“Why?”

  “I need you four people to leave the room, now.”

  The tall, handsome woman to his left shook her head. “I’m sorry Captain Patterson, we have—”

  It had been a while since she’d seen the expression Big Harv was now displaying. She cringed. It reminded her of her childhood when she’d screwed up. It wasn’t one she wanted to be directed in her direction, again.

  “Just get out. Or I’ll throw you out. I’ll tell you what goes at my crime scene.”

  He raised a beefy arm toward the door. The four of them exchanged glances, hesitated, then left the kitchen in single file. As they reached the door, the tall woman glanced back one more time, then hurried through the exit.

  “What the hell was that about, other than not jumping when you told them?”

  He shrugged his wide shoulders. “Just part of the rich-bitch police attitude these days. They don’t take orders well.”

  “I get that. Why boot them?”

  “You know damn well I’m old school. What we talk about is between us until we get a handle on things. Right now, I don’t trust anyone or anything else.”

  “Fair enough. But why don’t you trust anyone?”

  Big Harv rubbed his stubbled chin, then grinned that tiny trademark smile of his. “Ellie, have you known me to trust many? Especially in this day and age when there are too many people out there that don’t give you a reason.”

  “No. I haven’t and spoken like a true cynic.”

  “I’ve earned that label.”

  He pointed to the body. “Demler, and this surely looks to be him by his size and five-thousand-dollar suit, is a, how do I say this, discrete ‘investor’ involving several powerful people in the city. Who in hell knows where this could lead or who’s involved? My bosses, my big bosses, well, they want this quiet for as long as possible.”

  “You mean they want the killer in jail before the shit storm hits?” asked Ellen, a measure of anger rising up inside, again.

  He nodded. “Not only that. There’s the whole idea of following the money and where that could lead.”

  “Damn, dad. Covering their asses against money trails, you mean?”

  “Yeah, I do.”

  He leaned closer to her. “I’ve never had the Chief tell me to do this kind of thing before. I don’t know who’s ordering who. Demler’s reputation as someone who will pay for what he really wants bothers me here.”

  Ellen felt a tinge of her dad’s disdain course down her spine. “You think this could have political and dirty written all over it?”

  Shaking his hands like he was trying to rid himself of several spiders, he looked at her.

  “Maybe. But we’ve both been around long enough to know evidence doesn’t lie. So enough of the whys for now. You’re here to do what no one else does better, and of course, because you’re my daughter and I trust you. I’ll be right here if you need another set of hands, but Ellie, by God, you need to get this done.”

  There it was again, that measured contempt in his voice.

  Her turn to move closer. “Dad. What aren’t you telling me?”

  As always, he held her stare. The man had always seemed fearless to her. She supposed most little girls thought that of their fathers. But she had the real deal. He had no compunction to hide anything.

  “I think someone knew this was coming. Someone high up. I think it’s a hit.”

  She tilted her head toward her dad. “Let’s see if we can prove that.”

  CHAPTER-5

  After placing numbered yellow placards at different evidence points, including blood drops, minute particles of dirt, two dead insects, and several hairs, Ellen pulled out the right amount of polyurethane evidence bags and put them in one pile. She then took several more from her kit, tucked them neatly in the inside pocket of her bright green vest, placed her still warm camera on the top shelf of the kit, then stepped to the body.

  The victim’s suit was one of the finest she’d ever seen. She touched it with gloved fingers.

  Yep. Expensive.

  It was also tailored to him and fit like the proverbial glove. The three bullet holes in his chest marred the tailor’s work. That fit allowed her to see the contours of his body right up to the folded hands. There didn’t appear to be any injuries or blood south of his hands, none that she could see.

  Reaching his hands, she pulled back and stood.

  “What?” asked Big Harv.

  “Coming from the bottom to the top is how I usually work because evidence has a tendency to follow the laws of gravity.”

  “Okay.”

  “I can’t do that here. We have to go the other way. Especially given the way he’s staged.”

  “Why?” asked Big Harv moving closer to her, his steps echoing in the large room.

  “Because that’s where the motherlode is. And, for crying out loud, we have to ID this man for certain.”

  “Can there be any doubt?”

  “Probably not, but let’s confirm.”

  Ellen rose, removed the blue gloves she was wearing, took another pair from her jeans, and stretched on the new pair. Then she moved slowly toward the horror show at the man’s head.

  Kneeling on both knees, she reached for the blade in his right eye. Then stopped and leaned in closer, the angle of the light causing the jewels to sparkle.

  The blades were identical twins. If they were real, and she had no reason to believe they weren’t, both were worth a small fortune.

  The top of each was rung with inlaid gold, then a rowed layer of emeralds, then rubies, then what looked to be diamonds, then blue sapphires circled the hilt giving way to one more ring of gold.

  The daggers had been inserted into the orbital cavities with precision, each blade displayed in the identical position.

  She’d noticed most of that before, but this close drove the point home even further. Extending her hand, she used her index finger to touch the area on the handles that had drawn her attention.

  As she did, the large steel door opposite of where her and Big Harv were working opened with a raucous bang.

  She stood erect and pivoted on her heel just in time to see the large man rushing toward them.

  CHAPTER-6

  Pulling her weapon, eyes wide, Ellen widened her feet and struck the pose, the one that said she was going to shoot and ask questions later.

  “Wait,” she heard Big Harv yell.

  But she didn’t need his warning. A moment later, she recognized the man coming at them. Detective Brice Rogers was hard to miss.

  Tall, hazel eyes, and a physique that had earned him the nickname Superman covered the outside. And that was worth a second look. The inside of the man was another issue. His reputation for not working well with others came with the rest of the detective’s package.

  “What the hell are you doing, Rogers?” asked Big Harv.

  “What does it look like I’m doing, Captain Patterson? I got your text message about this possible homicide so I got here as quickly as I could.”

  “I didn’t─”

  Big Harv pulled out his phone, hit a button, then swore.

  “I meant to send it only to Ellie, FT Harper, that is. There wasn’t supposed to be any other CPD here until after we did the preliminaries.”

  Detective Rogers nodded toward Ellen, then shifted his gaze to her dad. “Well, I got it just the same. And why wasn’t I supposed to get it? Because of who lives here? Politics or some shit? That shouldn’t make a damn bit of─”

  “Shut up, Rogers. Of course it makes a difference. You weren’t born in a damn vacuum, were you? No. I didn’t think so. Politics and money win, at least sometimes.”

  The angry red crept up her neck. Even though Big Harv had said it before, she hated how it sounded. Apparently not as much as The Detective. He was struggling not to blow a gasket. She understood that quite well. She even sort of liked that he was a little like her.

  Big Harv raised a finger and wagged it slowly. “Not the time, Brice,” he said softly. “You can pop a blood vessel on your own time. Not here, not now.”

  In an exercise of pure will, she watched Detective Rogers slowly gain control of the emotion that had risen faster than her own. She, apparently, wasn’t the only one with a problem or two controlling the urge to choke the living shit out of someone at the drop of a hat.

  “Okay. Now that you’re here, let’s see if we can talk to the help. The man’s maid found him like this. She’s sitting in the dining room that leads through that door,” he said pointing to his left. “I’m staying here in the event FT Harper needs something. Get it in gear, Detective, so she can get back to what she was doing.”

  “Yes sir,” answered Brice. His voice still carrying a tinge of the brooding he’d become partially known for as he stepped across the kitchen.

  His reaction was almost, well, sexy. It had been months since anything or anyone had been sexy to her. Not even the male stripper show her friend Kate had taken her to see measured up. Fun, okay, but not sexy to her. Then again, had she ever really known what that meant?

  Sexy and love were partners she’d didn’t believe should be very far apart. Joel had nailed that concept for her, at first. Now she’d just as soon blacken his eyes, again, as look at him. The slow boil began again.

  She closed her eyes.

  Damn it. Just stop.

  Ellen exhaled, then shook it off, mostly, and refocused on where she’d been before Brice had entered the room. She’d drink wine and throw another pity party later.

  Dropping back down to her knees, she moved back to the dagger plunged into Demler’s right eye and studied the area she’d noticed before.

  She leaned in even closer. Looked at the dagger again, then back to the other.

  She swung the camera back around and snapped two more pictures, then moved it back over her shoulder. Her frown returned.

  Ellen wasn’t an expert by any means, but she’d seen artifacts over the years, especially if one had caught her fancy as a painter. She couldn’t remember how many times she’d visited Chicago’s museums and traveling displays that went from city to city. She’d seen her share of authentic ancient Japanese swords and weapons from almost every culture. These were special. So, who takes something as exquisite as these and bloodies them up? Anger was a possibility, but she suspected something more. Was it to show him that in the end, money didn’t matter? To show him up? But why? What was the point? Control?

  Even though those thoughts entered her mind, that part wasn’t her job. Brice and Big Harv could handle the why.

  Filing her subjective observations away, she went on to the next step in identifying the body.

  After standing, she moved directly over the victim’s eyes, then reached down, wrapped her gloved hand around the dagger in his left eye and began to pull straight up. At first, it didn’t move, then there came a subtle sucking sound as it gave way and released from its bed.

  Reaching for an evidence bag, she then pulled the blade out completely, dripping with small amounts of blood and tissue, and placed it in the bag. She repeated the process with the second. The same sound accompanied the extracting, but there seemed to be less fluid and tissue. She moved to the opposite side of the body and reached for the drawstring of the velvet bag that had been tightened around the man’s thick neck.

  “Dad. I need your help. Put on some gloves and help me pull this off.”

  Big Harv grunted. A minute later he was kneeling on the other side of the body.

  “This doesn’t help the arthritis in my damned knees.”

  “Yeah, I know. I’ll help you up, old man.”

  “Like hell you will. I don’t need help, yet.”

  “Okay. Just lift his head so I can get this off.”

  Putting his fingers under the man’s head, Harv lifted it an inch from the ground. She reached under with her fingers and pulled the bag from the back of the head. She then reached over to the other side of the head and peeled the bag over his chin. Then his nose. Then the bloodied eye sockets, minus his eyes. Lastly over his head and hair.

  She stared at the man in front of her, feeling her eyes widen.

  “Mother of God,” whispered Big Harv.

  CHAPTER-7

  “What the hell is going on, Ellie?”

  “I don’t know dad. Not yet,” answered Ellen. Even she could hear the shakiness in her voice. She bent closer.

  The man looked to be Gerald Demler, almost. The cheekbones were the same. The chin held the same subtle cleft. His eyebrows matched his salt and pepper hair. All as it should be, except it wasn’t.

  The side of his face, running down his jawline from just below his ear, was, well, loose. It appeared to be some kind of layer that had been added later. The subtle scar proved that.

  The skin itself was beginning to peel away along that scar line. That fact gave him the beginning look of a reject from a wax museum. As if the creator of that wax figure was having a bad day.

  She reached back over her shoulder and pulled her case to her side. She then pulled open a drawer on the second tier of the case and pulled out a small pair of wide-jaw pliers. With steady hands, she began to pull at one of the small flaps of skin.

  Gently, Ellen tugged at the skin, pulling it back evenly. In an instant, part of the skin gave way, causing her to jerk her hand back quickly.

  “Shit.”

  “What?” asked Big Harv.

  “Look underneath this section of skin that I pulled back. See that?”

  It took a few seconds before he responded. “Okay, I ain’t seen that before. What is it?”

  “I’ve only seen that one other time. Remember that professional model case a few years ago? The one that had her face torn off when she was pushed through those double windows.”

  “Yeah, I remember. That wasn’t pretty.”

  “No. Anyway, this is a dermal filler. It’s used in reconstructive surgery to reshape or restore the face.”

  “You mean as in plastic surgery?”

  “Yeah, dad, that’s what I mean.”

  “So why in hell would Demler do─damn. This isn’t him, is it?”

  She shook her head. “If I were a betting woman, I’d say no. It looks like him, physically, but I don’t think so. We need to run his fingerprints through IAFIS and DNA through CODIS, to be sure though.”

  Grunting as he slowly stood, Big Harv pointed at the body. “Let me throw out a theory then. So he gets someone to go through this surgery to be his double. I understand some of the reasons he might do that. He ain’t the most likeable man. I even understand the paranoia that some of these rich bitches harbor. But what or who is he afraid of and where in hell is he?”

  Good questions. Even though she loved science, she wasn’t immune to her own thoughts. Her own whys. She suspected, as her dad suggested, that Demler was hiding from something or someone. Yet, who knew for sure with the eccentric rich? And what did someone like Demler have to be afraid of?

  Ellen stood and stretched. “I don’t know dad. You’re the detective. I’m only going to gather this evidence and get it to the lab. I can tell you that side of the story. You’ll have to figure out the rest of what happened here.”

  “I can help with that.”

  They both turned in sync toward yet another door leading into the kitchen.

  Ellen felt her mouth drop open.

  Gerald Demler stood, legs spread, gun in hand, glaring at them.

  CHAPTER-8

  Ellen felt Big Harv move beside her. Maybe it was the whole father and daughter mystique or the fact that another person was standing near her, but she felt a certain calmness come over her.

  That state wasn’t something one would normally associate with a man with Demler’s physical appearance who was also carrying a look that seemed to say he was bent on killing them both.

  “Suppose you drop the gun and we can hear your story,” said Big Harv.

  “Suppose you kiss my ass,” Demler answered, raising the gun higher.

  “Take it easy. We’re here to help,” said Big Harv.

  “Yeah? That’s what the other four cops said when they got here. Now John is dead, my housekeeper too, and I’m supposed to trust you?”

  “What does that mean, Mr. Demler?” asked Ellen, her curiosity rising.

  “It means those four assholes who came to kill me are dead meat and I’m not. I killed every one of them. I blew their damned heads off. It means they got my double instead of me.”

  He stepped forward, his sneer close to evil. She and Big Harv held their ground.

  “Have you ever heard the phrase kill them all and let God sort out the bodies? In this case, I’m God. You’ll just be two more dead cops to sort out,” he hissed.

  Ellen was no profiler, but she could see this man had an ego the size of Lake Michigan but was still scared. That was as dangerous as it got.

  She touched Big Harv’s hand, telling him to give her a shot at this, then softened her voice. “I promise you, sir. We’re not here to harm you. I’m a forensic tech and this is my dad, Captain Harv Patterson. We only want to find out what happened so we can help.”

  He stared at her, then scanned her and Big Harv up and down. He threw back his head, laughing. “Daughter and dad? Really? That’s a first for even me. And I’ve seen a thing or two.”

  “Yes sir, I bet you have. We want to help, like I said.”

  “Do you?”

  “Yes. Will you tell us what happened here?”

  The idea of watching someone’s wheels turn as they struggled with a decision had always been a bit of a myth to Ellen. There was nothing scientific about that, but if ever that were true, she was seeing it.

  Finally, gun still gripped ominously in his hand, Demler moved within ten feet of them. “If you twitch in a way I don’t like, I’ll splatter your brains over that quartz bar, got it?”

  It was obvious he wanted to talk, yet his pride was still overshadowing his fear. But she suspected not for long.

 

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