Nikki saw the tremble in his hand. An ordeal like this would take its toll on
anyone. The locksmith was young, maybe about thirty, but for a small guy built slim
like a pro bowler, it must have been extra rough on his body. “Mr. Windsor, we won
’t keep you, but I’m wondering if you can tell me what happened.”
“Shit, you and me both.” The pale guy on the stretcher had an affable soft-
spokenness that reminded Nikki of Detective Rhymer, in whose mouth profanity sounded
quaint instead of offensive. “Sorry,” he said. “Another quarter in the swear jar
for me.” He took one more pull off the O2 mask and continued, “It was a slow day
for business. I was sitting, just doing the Angry Birds at the counter. Next thing,
I hear something behind me, and before I can turn, this hand comes around over my
face. That’s all she wrote till I woke up out here.”
“Was there a rag in the hand?”
He shrugged. “Sorry, just don’t remember.”
“Did you smell anything? Something sweet, maybe?”
His face lit up and he nodded. “Now that you say, yeah. Sort of like cleaning fluid
or something.” Heat whispered an aside to the EMT to have the ER check him for
chloroform.
“What time did this happen?”
“Let’s see. I was waiting for lunchtime. About noon.” Nikki looked up the block
at the bank clock. That would have been almost an hour ago. She felt a hot trail
going cold by the minute.
“Sorry, Detective Heat,” said the paramedic. “You’re going to have to continue
this later.” Heat thanked Glen Windsor for his time as they wheeled him to the back
of the ambulance. Then she appointed one of the uniforms to ride with him and stay
by his side at the hospital until she got there.
“Got your gas source right here,” said the FDNY supervisor when Nikki came back
inside Windsor’s Locks, using the door this time. He pointed to the open metal
hatch on the heating unit embedded flush in the wall of the shop. He had to shout
over the din of the ventilator fans. “See here? Pilot’s out, the combustion motor
’s been disconnected, and somebody pulled the stopper plug out of the test feed
joint. Nothing to stop the gas and nothing to burn it off, so it just streamed out
and filled the room. I don’t want to think about what this could have done.”
Detectives Feller, Malcolm, and Reynolds arrived to assist them in the search for
clues. “And by clues, you mean string, right?” asked Rook. “ ’Cause it don’t
mean a thing if it ain’t got that string.”
“Let’s just strike a match and end this,” said Reynolds to Malcolm.
The first wave of the search yielded none of the earmarks of the prior crime scenes.
As the fire crew declared the atmosphere safe enough to turn off their fans, Heat
stared at the one positioned at the open back exit and asked the supervisor to find
out if his men opened the door themselves or found it ajar.
“Found it that way,” said the uniform next to her. Officer Strazzullo had been
among the patrolmen that Heat sent to cover the alley then called back for the
evacuation. “When we accessed the alleyway, the back door to the shop stood open
about yay.” He sectioned about eighteen inches of air with his hands.
“Dang,” said Detective Feller to Heat. “Bet you almost had him, and he booked.”
Raley asked her, “You think he could have been in here when we rolled up?”
Heat didn’t say anything. Instead, she stepped out the open door to the alley. The
rest followed, and when they joined her, Nikki stood beside a Dumpster positioned
under the fire escape ladder leading to the roof. “Officer Strazzullo, was this bin
here when you arrived?”
“Sorry, I don’t recall.”