The Dead Play On

“I know some tough women,” Steve said, “but none with a right hook like the one that downed me. No, it was a man dressed as a woman. And he looked pretty damn real, at least through the peephole.”

 

 

Larue pulled out his notebook and asked Steve to go over everything that had happened. Grace Leon had arrived with her crew by then. She suggested that Steve might need medical attention, but he said he was fine for now and promised to see a doctor later.

 

Quinn walked back in then, and Larue ceded the floor to him. Between the two of them, Steve was asked nearly every possible question.

 

When they asked what color the “woman’s” eyes were, Steve was thoughtful for a moment and told them that they were yellow. “Like demon eyes,” he said.

 

“Seriously?” Larue muttered.

 

“Contacts, maybe?” Quinn asked.

 

“Probably,” Steve said.

 

Larue swore. “Bastard changes like a chameleon. He’ll be something else next time he strikes. We’re getting nowhere,” he said in disgust.

 

Quinn caught Larue’s eye and nodded toward a corner. Before he turned to speak to Larue privately, he said to Steve, “I’m sorry, but we need to know everything you can think of about what happened. Would you mind talking to us down at the station?”

 

“Not at all,” Steve said. “The truth is, I don’t want to hang around here alone.”

 

“We’ll get going, then,” Larue said. “Grace, I’m saying a prayer you’ll get a print.”

 

“He wore gloves,” Steve said. “Black lace gloves.”

 

“Of course,” Larue said drily. “Grace—”

 

“I’ll see what I can get, anyway,” she finished for him. Then she turned to Steve and said, “Before you go, I need to know where he was, anything you can remember him touching, anything at all that could help us find even the most infinitesimal bit of forensic evidence.”

 

“I’m all yours,” Steve told her earnestly.

 

Larue headed out to join Quinn, and a minute later Danni followed. When she stepped outside and joined them, they were already talking about Gus Epstein.

 

“We don’t have a single piece of real evidence,” Larue said. “The best I can do is ask Epstein if he’ll come in and tell us anything he can think of for the record. I can tell him we’re talking to everyone who knew any of the victims.”

 

“Why not just stop by and visit him? Make it look casual, less stressful,” Danni said. “Plus we could look around his place on the sly.”

 

“Good idea,” Quinn said. “Though if he is our guy, he’ll find an excuse not to let us in, not if he has any kind of evidence lying around.”

 

“Worth a try, though. You two stop in and see him,” Larue said. “It won’t look as suspicious if I’m not there. Meanwhile, I’ll try to figure a way to get a search warrant. Because if we don’t handle this legally, any evidence we find will get thrown right out of court.”

 

“If we don’t handle this some way,” Quinn said, “we’ll just have more bodies piling up.” He looked at Danni. “Let’s go,” he said grimly.

 

*

 

“I know why we can say we’re dropping in on him,” Danni said.

 

“Really?” Quinn asked her. “Why?”

 

“We’re worried about him. Steve was just attacked, and after the killer’s targeted so many people we know, we can tell him we’re trying to check on everyone we know and make sure they’re all doing okay.”

 

“Sounds good,” he told her.

 

When they pulled up in front of Gus’s house, Quinn saw that a patrol car was parked on the block. Larue had been doing his best to keep eyes on both suspects and possible victims.

 

Quinn pulled up directly in front of the house. He noted that Gus’s SUV was in the drive, just where it should have been.

 

He went around to Danni’s side of the car, but she was already out. “Be careful,” he warned her. “He does have a gun.”

 

“I know.” She patted her shoulder bag. “So do I.”

 

He nodded. “Yeah, you do, don’t you?”

 

He knocked on the door. There was no answer. He looked at her with a frown then pounded harder on the door. Still no answer.

 

The patrol officer down the street got out of his car. “He’s in there—has to be. I never saw him leave,” he called, hurrying toward them.

 

“Unless he went out the back,” Quinn pointed out. “Or someone went in.”

 

At least the cop had the grace to blush.

 

“I’m going around back. Be careful and stay covered,” Quinn said to Danni, who pressed herself tightly against the wall, out of range of the windows and doors.

 

Gun drawn, Quinn hurried around the side of the house, trying to see through the windows as he went. The house was dark; Gus could be sleeping, getting ready for another late night.

 

But he wasn’t, and Quinn knew it.

 

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