Part 2 (2/2)
”So you can follow the cosmic dust?”
Diesel opened the back door and pushed me through. ”Very funny. Keep in mind not everything I say is bulls.h.i.+t.”
”What would you say is the bulls.h.i.+t percentage? Twenty? Thirty?”
”Thirty might be low.”
We circled the building and jumped into my Jeep. I cranked the engine over, and an animal control van rolled into the lot just as we were leaving.
”Now what?” I asked Diesel.
”Did you thoroughly search Munch's house?”
”Lula and I walked through the rooms and looked in closets and drawers. There wasn't much to see. The house was empty. No clothes, no food, no toothbrush in the bathroom.”
”Maybe we should take a second look.”
I made the trip back to Trenton in less than thirty minutes. Traffic was non ex is tent at midday, and I didn't get a single red light. Diesel took credit for this, but I thought his claim might register a ten on the bulls.h.i.+t-o-meter. Then again, maybe not.
I turned onto Crocker and immediately saw two cop cars and an EMT truck angled into the curb in front of Munch's house. I did a slow drive-by, turned at the corner, and stopped at the entrance to the alley. There were two more cop cars parked with lights flas.h.i.+ng halfway down, plus a crime lab truck, an unmarked cop car, and what looked like the medical examiner's meat wagon.
”This doesn't look good,” I said to Diesel.
Diesel stared down the alley. ”Call your boyfriend and find out what happened.”
I crept forward, parked just past the alley, and dialed Morelli.
”Is there something going on in Martin Munch's house on Crocker Street?” I asked him.
”A call came in reporting two women and a monkey doing a B&E;,” Morelli said. ”One of the women was fat and black and stuffed into not nearly enough green spandex, and the other was wearing jeans and a red T-s.h.i.+rt. I don't suppose you were in the area?”
”Who, me?”
”s.h.i.+t,” Morelli said. ”Where'd you get the monkey?”
”What monkey?”
”Fine. I don't actually want to know. Fortunately, it's not my case. I have a nice, sane, multiple gang-slaying to work on.”
”What happened?”
”The usual. A bunch of kids shot each other.”
”No. What happened at Munch's house?”
”A uniform responded to the call. He looked in the windows and tried the doors and was on his way back to his car parked in the alley when his attention was caught by a pack of vultures sitting on a white '91 Cadillac. The car was parked one house down from Munch's. Long story short, there was a body in the trunk.”
”And?”
”Unidentified male. Not Munch. No bullet holes or stab wounds. Bucky Burlew pulled the case, and since the guy's head was facing in the wrong direction, Bucky's thinking his neck was broken. Ordinarily, I wouldn't know any of this, but I was supposed to meet Bucky at Pino's for lunch. This is half-price day for meatball subs.”
”Did you get a sub anyway?”
”Yeah. I went with Joe Zelock. He's in town with those naked male dancers. He's their token heteros.e.xual.”
Zelock used to be a Trenton cop. He rose in the ranks, went politico, and got busted for acting in a p.o.r.no film. Somehow, he got himself onto one of those reality talent shows. He didn't win, but he got a gig with a traveling Chippendales-style dance troupe. Word on the street is that he's making okay money. Of course, some of it gets stuffed into some pretty strange places, but I guess a little disinfectant spray, and the money's as good as any other.
I disconnected and told Diesel about the dead guy.
”Did Morelli say there was anything unusual about the victim?”
”Like what?”
”I've seen Wulf's handiwork. He likes to break his victim's neck. Nice and neat. Doesn't get blood on his clothes. He uses an ancient Chinese technique that only a few men have ever mastered. In fact, it's said you have to be born with the Dragon Claw.”
”What's a Dragon Claw?”
”Wulf can channel energy to his hands and use them to burn a brand into flesh. When he uses his hands to kill, he also inflicts a perfect print of his hand on the victim's neck.”
I felt the blood drain out of my brain, my vision went cobwebby, and bells clanged in my head.
Diesel reached over and put his hand to the back of my neck. ”Breathe,” he said.
His hand was warm, and the warmth radiated out to my fingertips and toes and everyplace in between.
”Are you okay?” he asked me. ”Your face turned white, and I felt your blood pressure drop.”
”Too much information. I didn't need to know about the Dragon Claw.”
Diesel smiled wide. ”You're such a girl.”
”I'm going to take that as a compliment.”
”I need to crash,” Diesel said. ”I was brought in from Moscow last night and I'm beat.”
”Where do you want me to drop you?”
”Take me home.”
”You have a home?”
”Take me to your your home. I'm staying with you.” home. I'm staying with you.”
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