Pete’s voice failed. David knew what he meant to say.
And look who is back on the island after ten years?
It was Pete. Because of Pete, he could be here, he was sure Pete’s superiors would see that he was ejected from the scene soon.
David stared at the dead girl, trying to take in every detail that he could. Bruises rounded her throat. The petechia in her eyes was pronounced. She wore lipstick, but it was smudged. Her blouse had been buttoned out of whack.
Had she done it herself?
There was the sheet that had been tossed over her-it almost looked as if the murderer had been forced to hurry. Where Tanya had been laid out to appear perfectly beautiful, it seemed that this girl had been quickly dumped.
“Lieutenant!”
One of Dryer’s top men came in and whispered to him. Pete glanced at David, sighed and nodded. He came to David and whispered, “Well, my men are beginning to comment on the fact that I’ve got a civilian in here. This is it-time for you to go.”
David lifted a hand. “Thanks for calling me, Pete,” he said.
Pete inhaled. “You were so adamant about not reopening the Beckett museum. But…hell, where there’s a psycho… I’m afraid that it’s not just you, David, who needs to worry about their displays. Now we know that. Any museum is up for grabs, so it seems. And Fantasy Fest is nearly here. Good God. We’ve got a murderer, and the streets are about to become wall-to-wall people. Heaven help us.”
“People may start canceling.”
“Hell, no. Okay, maybe. Some will. But a little thing like the murder of a prostitute isn’t going to stop anyone from partying. Lord, I hope the crime-scene folk can get something!” Pete said with disgust. “Why can’t we have a few more normal bar fights?”
“What about security cameras here?” David asked.
Pete gave him a dry look. “Ah, come on, David. This is your home-we’re not the damned backwoods. We checked that out first. Tape is gone. They’re dusting all over for prints, but…”
One of the techs finished for him. “The guy wore gloves. Seems like he knew just what we’d be looking for.”
“Footprints?” David asked.
The man shook his head. “He might even have worn some kind of bootie. Umm, not that we know if we’re dealing with a he,” he added, and looked away, busying himself with his work. He was a tech-the detectives were supposed to be doing the thinking.
David thanked Pete again.
He took shots as he left, shots of the entry, shots of ground. Shots of the locks, which seemed to have been undisturbed. He did so carefully, and still, he was surprised that none of the officers seemed to notice or stop him; maybe they were all in a bit of shock.
David left then, afraid that he’d be shown out soon. Just outside, he saw Liam questioning the people who had been the first through. They were two young girls and an elderly couple. He nodded to his cousin, who realized why he was leaving. Liam nodded in acknowledgment.
The crowd was growing. News stations were setting up, and several reporters were already on air.
As he walked out, he thought about Katie. He called her quickly to tell her about what had happened.
“I already saw the news,” she said.
Katie stared at the television.
The dead woman was Stella Martin. She had worked at a strip club on Duval, and most of the locals on the street who didn’t know her well still knew her. The club owner denied that any of his girls engaged in any illicit activity. Stella had been a good girl.
But the next person the reporter talked to was a pretty young girl from the Czech Republic. She worked in the bikini shop downstairs and next door.
“Stella…well, it is sad, so sad. But Stella…left with men often. She-she could not come in my shop anymore, the manager said. She propositioned men here, and my manager, he would not have it happening in here. A stripper is one thing…well, it is illegal here to charge for sex.”
A stripper.
A minute later, Lieutenant Pete Dryer was introduced by an anchor. “Lieutenant! Isn’t this a copy of one of the last unsolved murders to take place in Key West?” the reporter asked.
“A copy, just that,” Pete said.
“How do you know? The previous killer was never arrested, or known,” the reporter said.
“There are differences.” A barrage of questions started coming his way and he lifted his hand. “Naturally, we don’t want to give out details. We need to keep some information quiet so that we can investigate this killing and solve it. We have a lot more scientific investigative techniques now, and we’ll find out the truth this time, I swear.”
“But isn’t it true that the last murder involved the Beckett family-and isn’t it true that David Beckett has just returned home?” a reporter asked.
Pete was silent a second. Just a second too long.
“No further comment,” he said.