MURDER TAKES TIME

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Ties to the Past

Detective Lou Mazzetti pulled to the curb and got out of the car, his creased Oxford loafers splashing slush onto frayed pant cuffs. He buttoned his coat, positioned his hat to cover a bald spot, then went up the walk toward the old brick house. The house was still in nice shape—most were in this neighborhood, a community of predominantly Italian and Irish, but with a good mix of Poles and a smattering of Jews. Lou nodded to a patrolman stationed at the door as he climbed the steps. Today he felt as tired as he was old.

"How is it?" Lou asked.

"Neighbors didn't hear anything, but they didn't get home till late." The patrolman shook his head.

"Looks the same as the first one."

Same as the first one. A disturbing thought, but as Lou examined the scene it proved to be true: dead male shot once in the head, once in the heart. And damn near every bone in his body broken. No shell casings, and he felt certain the crime scene unit would find hairs, blood, skin, and DNA from a wide assortment of people. Lou looked at the medical examiner, Kate Burns, a pretty girl with skin as pale and freckled as her Irish name suggested. "Anything?"

Kate shook her head, wrapped up her kit and tucked it into a bag. "I'm sure we got his DNA, but it's mixed in with the rest."

"Process it all."

"I'll process it, but unless you get something more, it won't do you a damn bit of good."

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Detective Frankie Donovan stepped through the door and wiped slush from his Moreschi shoes using a monogrammed handkerchief. He unbuttoned his cashmere coat, hung it on a rack behind the door, then surveyed the crime scene with the hazel eyes he inherited from his father. Rumor was he got the Irish luck from his father, too, but that's where the gifts stopped. The dark skin, bold nose, and brown hair came from his Sicilian mother, along with a birthmark on his neck, which his grandfather swore resembled a map of Sicily. It was a dark pigment, almost black, and it sat just below and left of a solid, square jaw that looked as if it might shatter. He'd had it hit enough times to know it wouldn't.

"I just ran into Kate. She said we got nothing."

"Hey, Frankie." Lou walked over and gave him a slap on the back. "They told me you were coming. Anybody fill you in?"

"The lieutenant gave me the basics. He said you've had three now."

Mazzetti nodded. "Three, yeah, but this might be the worst."

Frankie motioned for Lou to join him in the kitchen. "Lou, listen, I—"

"Donovan, don't worry. I knew the captain was gonna give the lead to someone. I'm glad it's you."

"Thanks, Lou."

"Let me fill you in. First one was bad, like this. The guy makes them suffer. Kate says they're dead before he shoots them."

Frankie listened as Lou went over the details, then he spent time walking around. He checked the body, looked at the mess on the floor, picked a few things off the dresser then headed toward the kitchen. "What's this?" he asked, looking at an evidence bag on the counter.

"Rat shit."

"You said there were no clues."

"I bagged it, didn't I? But it's no clue; it's rat shit." Mazzetti laughed. "You want more? We got cat hairs in the sink, but he doesn't have a cat. There's probably dog shit in the bedroom, or who knows, maybe in the freezer. But no dog. And we got enough DNA to represent half the criminals at Riker's." Mazzetti waved his hand in the air, as if to surrender. "It's the same old shit.