V.I. Warshawski 04 - Bitter Medicine by Sara Paretsky Read Free Book Online Page A

pictures of the smashed-in door, of rice flung over the floor and stove. No doubt Gervase Fen or Peter Wimsey would immediately have grasped the vital clue revealing the identity of the murderer. But to me it looked like wreckage.
     
    “Fingerprints? Any kind of indicators?” I asked.
     
    Rawlings revealed a gold cap in a wide, unamused smile.
     
    “The little creeps all wear gloves these days. They don’t know how to read, but they pick it up on TV. We’re sweating the snitches-they’re the only ones going to give us a lead if we find one.”
     
    “How many you figure were in the apartment?”
     
    Two, by the looks.“ He took the photographs back from me and pulled out one showing living-room carnage. ”Punk One stood here“-he jabbed the right side of the picture with a thick forefinger-”in size-ten Adidas-left the logo on a big swadge of rice he’d picked up in the kitchen. Punk Two had bigger feet, but he didn’t leave the shoe designer’s name for us.“
     
    “So you don’t really suspect Tessa Reynolds, Detective,” I said.
     
    The gold gleamed again. “Hey, Ms. W.-you a lawyer, you know better than that. We suspect everybody right now. Even you and the doc here.”
     
    “Not very funny, Detective.” Lorry’s thick brows rose again in hauteur. “I have patients waiting, so if you’ve nothing further?” She swept from the interrogation room: Her majesty was definitely not amused.
     
    I followed her more slowly, hoping for some last comment from the detective. When it came, it wasn’t particularly helpful: “Now that’s one cold-blooded lady. Doesn’t turn a hair over a murder that made me sick. I can see someone getting pissed enough to off her.”
     
    There were days when I agreed with him, but I said, “You ever catch a bullet, Rawlings, make sure they take you to Dr. Herschel-they don’t come any better.” I caught up with Lotty at the entrance. We walked silently back to the car.
     
    As we headed back cross-town, Lotty said, “What do you think?”
     
    “You mean, will they find the punks who did it? It doesn’t seem likely. It all depends on how much bragging they do, how scared the snitches are of them. Your best bet is to get Hatcher and the hospital to keep up pressure on the Sixth Area commander-that’ll keep top resources on the case. This looks very much like a random home invasion, and the only way you crack those is routine.”
     
    “Fabiano?”
     
    “I know, I know-Carol and Paul both think his machismo got the better of his tepid interest in Consuelo and he murdered Malcolm to prove he was a real he-man, protecting his woman. But that little squirt? Come on.”
     
    “Nonetheless, Vic, do me a favor: Look into it.” The black eyes were demanding-not friend to friend but head surgeon to neophyte.
     
    My hackles rose slightly. “Sure, Lotty, to hear is to obey.” I braked hard in front of the clinic.
     
    I’m being unreasonable? Yes, perhaps I am. Malcolm mattered to me, Vic. More than that sad child or her intolerable husband. I need to be sure that the police do not just sweep this under the rug-put it into their unsolved-crime book.“
     
    “File,” I corrected irritably. I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel, trying to control my impatience. “Lotty, this is like-like a cholera epidemic. You wouldn’t think you could cure that-you’d call in the state public-health people and leave it to them. Because they have machinery and resources for treating epidemics and you don’t. Well, Malcolm’s death is like that. I can check on a few things, but I don’t have the technology or the people to grind through a hundred spouts, and follow up five hundred false leads. Malcolm’s death is really, truly, a job for the state.”
     
    Lotty stared at me fiercely. “Well, to use your analogy, if one friend I loved was dying in this epidemic, I would treat him, even if I couldn’t stop the plague. And that’s what I’m asking on Malcolm’s