Removal by Peter Murphy Read Free Book Online Page A

questions which were better not asked at a public venue such as the FBI’s Headquarters. She remembered the building’s expensive taste in artwork, and had speculated that it was probably not a cheap place to live. And now somebody there was dead, and the Chief of Police for the District was anxious to share jurisdiction. As she approached the building, Kelly saw several D.C. police cars parked outside the front entrance to the building with their emergency call lights flashing. At the entrance, two uniformed officers were talking to the concierge. As she was driving her private car, Kelly parked in the next block, and walked towards the officers, holding up her badge. One of the officers inspected it and waved her inside.
    ‘It’s Number 462, Agent. The Chief asked that you go up as soon as you arrived. You are welcome to use the elevator. The scenes-of-crimes people are through with it now.’
    ‘Thank you.’
    Kelly walked across the foyer, a massive space with a proportionately high ceiling and marble floor, ornate crystal chandeliers and ponderous fixtures. Two confused-looking night janitors, hispanic women, were sitting on a red velvet sofa in the center of the foyer, talking quietly to each other in Spanish. Kelly smiled comfortingly and greeted them in the same language, then entered the elevator and punched the button for the fourth floor.
    The fourth floor was swarming with police officers. One met her as she emerged from the elevator and inspected her badge carefully before directing her to apartment 462. Along the way, she noticed the doors of several other apartments slightly ajar, their occupants trying to get a look at whatever might be going on. The door of apartment 462 was open, but access was restricted by yellow crime-scene tape. Kelly’s badge was inspected yet again before she was allowed to cross the threshold. The officer asked her to wait at the door. Moments later, he returned with Henry Bryson, Chief of Police for the District of Columbia. To Kelly’s surprise, despite the antisocial hour, he was formally dressed in a suit and tie. Bryson motioned to her to follow him into the living room. One or two forensic officers were at work in one corner of the room, but there was apparently no reason to cordon off the rest of it.
    ‘How can we help, Chief?’ Kelly asked.
    ‘We have a little problem here, Agent Smith. A murder.’
    ‘Your people seem to have it covered, Sir. As you know, the Bureau has a very specific policy on jurisdiction, and the average murder in the District…’
    ‘I’m aware of that, Agent Smith,’ Bryson said sharply. ‘I’ve already had that conversation with your Director, and I don’t have time to go through it again.’
    Kelly nodded patiently.
    ‘Of course, Sir.’
    Bryson took a deep breath.
    ‘Believe me, if I thought this was an average murder, I would hardly have got the Director of the FBI out of bed in the middle of the night. I think we both know Ted Lazenby too well for that.’
    Kelly grinned.
    ‘Yes, Sir.’
    ‘The only reason I’m out of bed myself is that one of my officers found something he thought needed my attention. I think he was right. I’ll get to that in a moment. First, let me show you what we have in the bedroom.’
    Bryson motioned Kelly to follow him. At the door of the bedroom, he stopped and turned to her.
    ‘I take it you’ve seen this kind of thing before,’ he said. ‘It’s not very nice in there.’
    ‘Yes, I have, Sir,’ Kelly said. ‘But thank you.’
    The Chief led the way into the bedroom and signaled to an officer in plain clothes, who appeared to be inspecting something on a dressing-table, to join them.
    ‘Agent Smith, this is Lieutenant Jeff Morris, who works for me out of our Headquarters. Jeff, Agent Kelly Smith, FBI’
    Kelly shook hands with Lieutenant Morris. His grip was firm. He was just a shade taller than Kelly, dressed in a dark gray sports jacket which suited him well. His black hair had some