That woman in there is forty-five if she’s a day. And to add to your headaches, she’s not a vic … at least not of a crime.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Frovarp screamed loud enough to be heard at Katz’s. “There’s blood all over the fucking place.”
“We won’t know for sure until we do the autopsy,” said the ME, “but my guess is myocardial infarction is the COD.”
“A heart attack?” Frovarp liked that less than she liked me. “Bullshit on that.”
Dougherty shrugged. “Or possibly an aneurism, but I’d bet on heart attack. Maybe the fall killed her.”
Frovarp was skeptical. “The fall?”
“And the blood?” Shulze wanted to know. “Last time I looked, none of that shit you’re talking about comes with external bleeding. Unless I’m seeing things, there’s a lot of blood in that apartment.”
“Almost all of it came from a gash on her forehead and wounds on her face. I’ll show you.”
The ME turned and walked back into 5E. Frovarp and Shulze were so pissed that they didn’t notice I followed them into the apartment. We huddled in the passageway between the bathroom and bedroom.
“Here’s what your CSU guy and I think must have happened,” Dougherty said when he saw we were there with him. “The victim undresses to take a bath or a shower, or just to get ready for bed. She starts heading into the bathroom, but the MI or the aneurism seizes her before she makes it fully inside, and she falls headfirst onto the tile floor. You can check with CSU. They say there’s a cracked tile under that large area of dried blood. If you look carefully, you can see it.”
“Okay, keep going,” Frovarp said.
“She’s stunned or unconscious, which is why there’s such a large amount of blood in that one area. She wasn’t moving. Head and facial wounds tend to bleed very intensely. She finally rouses. Realizing she’s got to call for help, she crawls back into the bedroom to find her cell phone. That accounts for these streaks of blood on the floor here and leading into the bedroom. Unfortunately, she expires before she can find the phone or use it.”
“So if that’s not Siobhan Bracken, who is it?” I heard myself say.
“Get the fuck outta here, Prager,” Frovarp groused. “Go wait in the hall.”
“Hey, this is one less case to close,” I said. “What’s eating you?”
Shulze gave me a less than gentle shove. “Outside, Prager. Wait outside!”
I went outside all right, but I didn’t wait. Those two asshole detectives weren’t going to give me any information or make my job any easier, so I didn’t see why I should make their charming lives any easier. And there was no doubt they were the types to give me a hard time simply because they could.
No, thanks
. I wasn’t in the mood. I hadn’t committed any crime. Well, I guess, technically I had, but it wasn’t the type of thing people got prosecuted for. The uniforms who had first responded were long gone, and the guys who had replaced them didn’t know who I was. They just let me walk right onto the elevator and go.
I didn’t figure I’d have much time to chat with the doorman after Frovarp and Shulze realized I hadn’t stuck around. So as I left the building, I handed the doorman my card and a couple of twenty-dollar bills. “What time you get off your shift?”
He didn’t bother looking in his hand. “Six, but you know what I’m thinking? I’m thinking maybe I might be busy tonight, you know?” he said with a familiar Bronx Italian inflection.
“There’s more where that came from, so make sure you’re not busy, okay? I’ll meet you at Grogan’s Clover on Avenue C at 6:15. You know it?”
He was a dark, good-looking man with a tough guy attitude. “I’ll find it. Is everything okay with Siobhan—I mean, Miss Bracken? She’s real nice to me. I would hate it if like somethin’ happened to her, you know?” he asked, his hard exterior cracking slightly.
“I’m not sure, but
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Frovarp screamed loud enough to be heard at Katz’s. “There’s blood all over the fucking place.”
“We won’t know for sure until we do the autopsy,” said the ME, “but my guess is myocardial infarction is the COD.”
“A heart attack?” Frovarp liked that less than she liked me. “Bullshit on that.”
Dougherty shrugged. “Or possibly an aneurism, but I’d bet on heart attack. Maybe the fall killed her.”
Frovarp was skeptical. “The fall?”
“And the blood?” Shulze wanted to know. “Last time I looked, none of that shit you’re talking about comes with external bleeding. Unless I’m seeing things, there’s a lot of blood in that apartment.”
“Almost all of it came from a gash on her forehead and wounds on her face. I’ll show you.”
The ME turned and walked back into 5E. Frovarp and Shulze were so pissed that they didn’t notice I followed them into the apartment. We huddled in the passageway between the bathroom and bedroom.
“Here’s what your CSU guy and I think must have happened,” Dougherty said when he saw we were there with him. “The victim undresses to take a bath or a shower, or just to get ready for bed. She starts heading into the bathroom, but the MI or the aneurism seizes her before she makes it fully inside, and she falls headfirst onto the tile floor. You can check with CSU. They say there’s a cracked tile under that large area of dried blood. If you look carefully, you can see it.”
“Okay, keep going,” Frovarp said.
“She’s stunned or unconscious, which is why there’s such a large amount of blood in that one area. She wasn’t moving. Head and facial wounds tend to bleed very intensely. She finally rouses. Realizing she’s got to call for help, she crawls back into the bedroom to find her cell phone. That accounts for these streaks of blood on the floor here and leading into the bedroom. Unfortunately, she expires before she can find the phone or use it.”
“So if that’s not Siobhan Bracken, who is it?” I heard myself say.
“Get the fuck outta here, Prager,” Frovarp groused. “Go wait in the hall.”
“Hey, this is one less case to close,” I said. “What’s eating you?”
Shulze gave me a less than gentle shove. “Outside, Prager. Wait outside!”
I went outside all right, but I didn’t wait. Those two asshole detectives weren’t going to give me any information or make my job any easier, so I didn’t see why I should make their charming lives any easier. And there was no doubt they were the types to give me a hard time simply because they could.
No, thanks
. I wasn’t in the mood. I hadn’t committed any crime. Well, I guess, technically I had, but it wasn’t the type of thing people got prosecuted for. The uniforms who had first responded were long gone, and the guys who had replaced them didn’t know who I was. They just let me walk right onto the elevator and go.
I didn’t figure I’d have much time to chat with the doorman after Frovarp and Shulze realized I hadn’t stuck around. So as I left the building, I handed the doorman my card and a couple of twenty-dollar bills. “What time you get off your shift?”
He didn’t bother looking in his hand. “Six, but you know what I’m thinking? I’m thinking maybe I might be busy tonight, you know?” he said with a familiar Bronx Italian inflection.
“There’s more where that came from, so make sure you’re not busy, okay? I’ll meet you at Grogan’s Clover on Avenue C at 6:15. You know it?”
He was a dark, good-looking man with a tough guy attitude. “I’ll find it. Is everything okay with Siobhan—I mean, Miss Bracken? She’s real nice to me. I would hate it if like somethin’ happened to her, you know?” he asked, his hard exterior cracking slightly.
“I’m not sure, but
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