The Assailant by James Patrick Hunt Read Free Book Online Page A

George.”
    Hastings went back into the investigation room and said to Geoffrey Harris, “You’re free to go. We appreciate your cooperation.”
    â€œNot at all. I presume I passed your test?” A little irritation in his voice.
    Hastings said, “You did. Can we offer you a ride back to the airport?”
    â€œNo, thank you. If you could telephone a taxi for me.”
    â€œSure. Mr. Harris, did Ashley tell you where she was going? By chance, did she tell you that?”
    â€œYou mean to another appointment?”
    â€œYeah. Something like that.”
    â€œNo, Lieutenant. She was a professional, you see. The purpose is to delude an old man like myself into thinking she’s happy to spend time with him. For her to speak of other ‘clients,’ if you will, would dispel the charade. The sad thing is, we’re grateful when they lie.”
    Hastings smiled. “I suppose.”
    Harris put his coat over his arm. “I hope you find your murderer, Lieutenant. She was a nice young lady. She didn’t deserve this.”
    â€œNo, she didn’t.”
    Hastings noticed that Harris was suddenly uncomfortable. Not out of guilt but because he thought the American policeman mightbe expecting a handshake. Hastings was not, and he opened the door.
    Harris said, “If there’s anything else you need, you know where to contact me.” Then he was gone.
    In the hall, Klosterman said, “Well?”
    Hastings looked at his watch. It was almost seven o’clock. “Oh, shit. Let me make a call real quick.”
    Carol answered the phone.
    â€œHi,” Hastings said. “Where are you?”
    â€œI’m at home. What’s going on?”
    â€œI’m still working that homicide. Ah, listen, I’m sorry, but we have to do one more thing before we go off shift.”
    He heard her sigh.
    â€œI’m sorry, Carol. We don’t really have any suspects and—well, I’m sorry.”
    â€œIt’s all right. When do you think you’ll be done?”
    â€œMaybe a couple of hours. I know we planned dinner, but—”
    â€œDon’t worry about it,” she said. “Call me when you finish. If it’s not too late.”
    â€œI will. Goodbye.”
    â€œBye.”
    Klosterman said, “Told you not to get married.”
    â€œI didn’t marry her.”
    â€œOh. Well, I told you not to marry Eileen.”
    â€œThat’s right,” Hastings said. “You did. What about your wife? Is she going to let you stay out?”
    â€œSure. You want to go talk to some more hookers?”
    â€œI was thinking we should go to the girl’s apartment. See if there’s a fellow living there.”
    â€œWe haven’t got a search warrant.” Klosterman looked at his watch. “We can call a judge, get a telephonic. But it’s pretty late.”
    â€œJudge Reif will give us one. He’s usually up late.”
    â€œI’ll call him on the way.” Klosterman asked, “You think she was killed by someone she knew?”
    â€œSort of. If she’s a high-class call girl, I don’t think she would’ve been standing on a street corner pitching for a job. I don’t think she would have gotten into a car with a stranger. And it’s usually someone they know.”
    It wasn’t anything Klosterman didn’t know. Most murdered women were done in by boyfriends and husbands, exes who didn’t want to let go. He said, “Yeah, but this was a hooker, George. That widens the scope.”
    â€œI know that,” Hastings said. “But let’s check on what we know first.”
    â€¢
    Reesa Woods’s apartment was in the Soulard area. It was on the first floor, a short set of brick steps leading up to the door.
    Hastings knocked on the door, calling out “hello” after three raps.
    Klosterman looked into the front window. The lights were out. Klosterman said, “I