Once Bitten by Stephen Leather Read Free Book Online

glass coffee table in front of the sofa and on top of it were a couple of fashion magazines. De'Ath was right, there was nothing there. No blood-stained knife, no pile of bloody clothes, no manuals on how to be a successful murderer. I could see why he was so disappointed.
    The kitchenette was white and spotless and looked as if it had never been used. There was a cooker, a microwave, a small fridge-freezer and a double stainless steel sink. There was a scrubbed wood knife rack in which were slotted black-handled knifes, a toaster, and an electric kettle.
    Everything was gleaming. Pristine. As if she'd never cooked there.
    De'Ath saw me looking at the clean, white surfaces. “Looks like she eats out a lot,” he said.
    “There's only wine and some fizzy water in the fridge.”
    “Nothing unusual about that,” I said. “You'll find precious little to eat in my fridge.” Funny how I kept wanting to make excuses for her. “Nice place,” I said.
    “Yeah, compact,” he said. “Bit small for me, but I guess a girl on her own would be quite happy here.”
    “Samuel, you know there's a knife missing from the rack?”
    “Yeah,” he said. “We noticed that.”
    “No toothpicks,” said Filbin as he came out of the bathroom.
    “Toothpicks?” I said.
    “We found a toothpick stuck in the shoelaces of the victim,” explained Filbin. “And there weren't any in his pockets. Could be from the perp.”
    They took me out into the hall and Filbin locked the door. While we waited for the elevator I asked De'Ath where he was going next.
    “Office,” he said. “We're still waiting for the report on the victim. And I want another talk with the girl.”
    The elevator arrived and we got in. “Can I come back with you?” I asked.
    De'Ath raised his eyebrows. “You seem to be taking more interest than usual in this case, Doc,”
    he said.
    I shrugged. “She intrigues me.”
    “Man, I am disgusted,” De'Ath guffawed. “You must be old enough to be her father.” He laughed and Filbin laughed with him.
    “Come on, Samuel. She's only ten years younger than I am.”
    Filbin shook his head in disbelief. “It must have been a rough ten years,” he said. Their laughing intensified and I was relieved when the doors hissed open and we went out into the sunshine.
    “Anyway, God forbid I should split up this laughing policemen act, but is it OK for me to go back to the station with you?”
    “Didn't you come in the Batmobile?” asked De'Ath.
    I sighed. “Yes, I meant that I'll follow you back.” I pointed to my car. “I'm parked there.”
    Filbin used his hand to shade his eyes from the sun. “Nice car,” he said. “English, is it?”
    “Yeah. Though an American helped design it. That's why it's got fins.”
    Filbin nodded appreciatively, then frowned. “What's that hanging from the aerial? It looks like a bat!”
    The Autopsy There were no free parking spaces in the precinct car park so I left the Alpine on the road. Most of the cops knew who I was so I reckoned I was unlikely to get a ticket. De'Ath and Filbin were at their desks by the time I reached the Homicide office. More than thirty detectives worked out of the big open-plan office, and all the desks were grouped in twos so that partners could sit facing each and answer each other's phones and steal each other's sandwiches. They worked a three-shift system and spent most of the time out on the streets which meant that there were never more than half a dozen detectives actually in the office at any one time.
    Filbin was talking into one of the phones, to Forensic by the sound of it.
    De'Ath saw me listening. “Forensic said they've sent her clothes back,” he explained. “Said they're clean and there's no point in hanging on to them.”
    “What are you going to do next?” I asked.
    “Ask her about the knife that's missing from the set in her kitchen. Ask her what she was doing in the alley. You know, Doc, police-type questions, just like you see on the