Page 95 of Fury In Death

Chapter Fourteen

For reasons that both baffled and pleased her, Eve cruised downtown as if on a highway. She decided she’d hit some rare pocket where traffic didn’t exist. Or barely.

Dog walkers, suits, pedestrian commuters glided along the sidewalks as she slid, time and again, through green lights.

Like magic.

The lucky pocket dumped her at the morgue early, so she programmed three coffees in go-cups. Might as well spread the joy.

She stuck one in her jacket pocket, carried the other two down the preternaturally quiet tunnel.

And found Morris already with his sealed hands inside Cruz’s open chest cavity.

“I didn’t think you’d be this far along.”

“Saw the flag, came in early.”

“Appreciated, but you didn’t have to—”

“Not just for you,” he said. “Three in this condition in barely twenty-four hours? I’m invested.” He nodded at the coffees she held. “Is one of those for me?”

“Yeah.” She set it aside, took Peabody’s out of her pocket, put it next to the first.

“Also appreciated. Dent’s in the drawer. We’ll release the body to his family later today if you’ve no objections. Our latest guest has a son according to your on-scene report.”

“Yes. I notified him last night. He’s coming in today.”

“I’ll do what I can to persuade him against viewing the body. He escalated with this one. I would have thought it next to impossible. You see here? The ribs, not just broken, shattered. Pieces of them pierced internal organs. Massive internal bleeding.”

Eve stepped closer, watched Morris work. Today’s music leaned into guitars and a pumping piano. Today’s suit was deep, dark green, echoed in the thin stripes on a snow-white shirt. The tie added a deep, dark gold. And both colors wound through the braid down his back.

“I’ve seen you open bodies that’ve taken a dive out a twenty-story window with less damage.”

“This was unrelenting. I can tell you Mr. Cruz enjoyed his alcohol a bit too much, and his diet leaned away from balanced nutrition. He’d enjoyed a couple of tequila shots about an hour before death.”

“There’s a bar right down the block from his place. Uniforms report he stopped in there on the way home, and often did.”

“I’d say they served the salsa and tortilla chips he had with the shots.”

“He was a husky guy. A couple of shots shouldn’t have impaired him. Defensive wounds?”

“Here, right forearm? Possibly an attempt to block a blow. In my opinion, the first strike, the assailant’s fist to the face, broke the nose, knocked out these two teeth, splitting the top lip. Frontal assault, powerful blow. The victim may have remained conscious, but he would surely have been dazed.”

Morris paused, shook his head. “What had he done to incite so much rage?”

“He blew up the apartment building with his killer’s pregnant wife and two-year-old son in it, among others.”

Morris’s eyes held on Eve’s. “There’s no end of cruelty in the world, is there? So you know the killer, but don’t yet have him.”

“Steven Redman. Went out for ice cream thirteen years ago, so the people who hired Cruz to take him out missed him. No, we don’t have him yet. I’ll send you a copy of the file if you’re interested.”

“I am. And I believe I’ll have that coffee now.”

As he walked over to wash away the blood, Peabody came in.

“I’m two minutes early! I timed it.”

“I was earlier, and so was Morris. You got coffee.”