Wild Justice by Phillip Margolin Read Free Book Online

kilos hidden in this house. If he found the stash, he would leave and figure out a way to get a warrant. He could even tail Cardoni and try to catch him selling. The main thing was to find out if he was on a wild-goose chase. Vasquez turned his collar up against the chill and worked his way around the house, trying the exterior doors before resorting to forced entry. He got lucky when he turned the knob of a small door in the rear of the garage and it opened. Vasquez turned on the garage lights and searched. The garage had an unused feel to it. No tools hung from the walls; Vasquez saw no gardening equipment or junk lying about. He also found no cocaine, but he did find a key for the house hanging on a hook. A moment later Vasquez was standing in a downstairs hall at the foot of a flight of stairs. At the top of the stairs was a living room with a wall of glass that provided a panoramic view of the forest. Something moved on the periphery of his vision, and Vasquez went for his gun, stopping when he realized that he d seen a deer bounding into the woods. Vasquez exhaled and turned on the lights. He had no fear of being discovered. Cardoni s nearest neighbors were half a mile away. The living room was sparsely furnished; the furniture was cheap and looked out of place in such an expensive home. It occurred to Vasquez that there was no dust or dirt anywhere, as if the living room had been cleaned recently. There were plastic plates and cups in the cupboards, a few mismatched utensils in the drawers. A pottery mug half filled with cold coffee sat on the drain board next to the sink. Vasquez also noted a coffeepot still holding a small amount of coffee. He touched the pot. It was cold. The master bedroom had the same unlived-in feel. Vasquez saw an empty bookcase, a wooden straight-back chair and a cheap mattress that rested on the floor. There were no sheets on the mattress, but there were several dried brown spots that looked like blood. Vasquez searched the closets and the connecting bathroom. Then he moved on to the other rooms on the main floor. The more Vasquez searched, the more uneasy he felt. He had never seen such a tidily desolate home. Aside from the coffee cup and the coffeepot, there were no signs of life anywhere. When Vasquez finished with the main floor he headed downstairs to the basement. There were four rooms, one of which was padlocked. Vasquez searched the other rooms. All were empty and devoid of dust or dirt. Vasquez returned to the padlocked door. He had a set of lock picks with him and was soon inside a long and narrow room with walls and floor of unpainted gray concrete. A faint unpleasant odor permeated the air. Vasquez looked around. A sink was in one corner and a refrigerator in another. Between them, in the center of the room, was an operating table. Hanging from the padded tabletop were leather straps that could be used to secure a person s arms, legs and head. A metal tray that would hold surgical implements during an operation was completely empty. The detective studied the floor around the operating table more closely and spotted several bloodstains. Vasquez knelt to get a better look at the blood and caught sight of something under the table. It was a scalpel. Vasquez picked it up gingerly and examined it closely. Flecks of dried blood covered the blade and the handle. He laid it carefully on the tray, then turned his attention to the refrigerator. Vasquez grasped the handle. The door caught briefly, then popped free. The detective blinked hard, then released the handle as if his fingers had been burned. The refrigerator door slammed shut, and Vasquez fought the urge to bolt from the room. He took a deep breath and opened the door again. On the top shelf were two glass jars with screw-on tops labeled viaspan. The jars were full of a clear liquid with a faint yellow tinge. Vasquez spotted a plastic bag filled with a white powder on the bottom shelf. Not two kilos worth. Nowhere near that amount.