Streets of Fire by Thomas H. Cook Read Free Book Online

ring was far too large to fit any of them.
    ‘She wasn’t wearing it because it wasn’t hers,’ he said as he dropped the ring back into the bag.
    Patterson nodded. ‘Boyfriend’s, maybe?’ he asked hesitantly.
    Ben looked at him. ‘I don’t know. She could have worn it on a chain around her neck. She could have picked it up on the street.’ He walked over to the small metal desk at the rear of the room and looked at the ring under the desk lamp, turning it slowly in his fingertips. ‘No name,’ he said, almost to himself. ‘No initials.’ He dropped it back into the plastic bag and handed it to Patterson. ‘Send it over to be dusted,’ he told him, ‘and tell them to let me know what they find.’
    ‘Okay,’ Patterson said with a slight edge of sarcasm. Whatever they want in the front office, that’s what we do.’
    Ben did not seem to hear him. ‘Where’s her dress?’
    Patterson pointed toward a plain cardboard box which rested beneath a long wooden table. ‘Over there.’
    Ben walked over to the box, took out the dress and spread it across the table. ‘Which pocket did you find it in?’
    Patterson pointed to a single shallow breast pocket. ‘Right there.’
    Ben gazed steadily at the dress. In addition to the one on the right front of the dress, it had two side pockets, and he inserted his hands into each of them. ‘They’re a lot deeper,’ he said.
    Patterson looked at him oddly. ‘So what?’
    ‘Well, I was just thinking,’ Ben said. ‘If I were a little girl who wanted to keep from losing my ring, I’d put it in one of my side pockets.’ He looked at Patterson pointedly. ‘Wouldn’t you, Leon?’
    Patterson glanced down at the dress, then back up to Ben. ‘Yeah, I would,’ he said. He shrugged. ‘Unless I was careless.’
    Ben picked up the dress by the shoulders and turned it slowly in the light. It was badly soiled from the burial, and there were bloodstains on the skirt.
    ‘Those bloodstains,’ Ben said. ‘Where’d they come from?’
    ‘The rape,’ Patterson replied authoritatively. ‘Where else would they come from?’
    Ben twisted the dress around so that Patterson could see the back of it. ‘How come there’s no blood on her collar?’ he asked. ‘She was shot in the back of the head. I lead wounds are usually pretty bloody.’
    Patterson stared silently at the white, ruffled collar for a moment, then looked at Ben. ‘I can’t answer that, Ben,’ he said at last, ‘I really don’t know.’
    ‘I do,’ Ben said. He glanced back over toward the body. The small dark hand dangled from the metal carriage, casting a tiny shadow across the polished tile floor. She was naked when somebody shot her,’ he said. He lifted his right hand, fingers spread, and held it suspended in the air at about four feet from the floor. ‘She was naked, and she was standing about this high, Leon,’ he continued softly. ‘And somebody a whole lot bigger came up behind her and put a gun a few inches from the back of her head and pulled the trigger.’
    Something very dark silently passed over Patterson’s face. ‘Let me know if I can help you any more on this one, Ben,’ he said finally. Then he turned very quickly and walked away.

SEVEN
    During the night, police barricades had been set up at the entrance of the underground garage at headquarters, and several uniformed patrolmen now stood determinedly behind them, nightsticks already drawn, and with their eves squinting menacingly as Ben pulled to a halt.
    ‘Looks like you boys are getting ready for a rough day,’ Ben said as one of the patrolmen approached his car.
    ‘We’ve been told to expect anything,’ the patrolman replied. ‘Do you have business here?’
    Ben took out his identification.
    ‘Fine, Sergeant,’ the patrolman said instantly. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you.’ He looked over at the line of patrolmen who stood silently behind the barricade. ‘Open up,’ he called loudly. ‘Sergeant Wellman