Price played with one end of his mustache. “No, I think we’ll be able to handle it. If this is going to be as high profile as you think, we can’t afford any bureaucratic funding roadblocks. You heard the mayor. I’ll pin it on her if I can’t make it happen. Surefire way to get it through. This may be a great opportunity to hit her again with the new forensic lab proposal...”
“Good idea. I’ll let you handle that,” Taylor said. “Getting back to reality... Our witnesses aren’t going to be much help. They didn’t see another soul. We’re hoping that will change when they get a chance to calm down.” She gestured toward the ceiling. A huge, dark brown watermark in the corner caught her eye, distracting her for a moment. Her voice trailed off, then she addressed him again.
“Price, there’s something else. There were some sweet-smelling herbs scattered on the body. Sam’s sending samples to a buddy to get a quick ID, but this changes the complexion of this case. They have to be part of the staging, because I doubt some drunk wandered by and threw a posy on her.”
“Herbs? What kind of herbs? What the hell is that about?”
“I have no idea, but we’ll have to keep a tight rein on that little tidbit. It could be a signature, and we really don’t want it getting out.”
“This place is leaking like a sieve, Taylor. You keep that deep, okay? Nobody hears about it outside of your detectives.” He leaned back in his chair. “So how do you want to run this? You’ve got a few open cases on your plate right now, but this should take priority.”
“Yeah, we have several that are on the burner, and two very active. I can offload them on Fitz, let him run them, and if this pops, we can pull him back in. He can manage things out of here for me if anything happens. Plus, I think it would be good to bring Marcus Wade in to back me up on this. He needs the experience.”
“Works for me. Which cases do you want to give Fitz?”
“The Lischey Avenue murder from last week. The one the paper picked up and ran with? Little Man Graft murdered Lashon Hall, Terrence Norton saw the whole thing, but he’s not talking. That one.”
Price groaned and Taylor grinned. Anytime the news got involved in their cases, something was bound to go wrong.
“Mayfield didn’t do us any favors, did she?”
“No.”
“Little Man and Norton are getting to be frequent fliers with Metro.” He shook his head, frowning. “Think you can nail them for this one? I’m getting tired of their antics.”
Taylor barked a laugh. “It’s not me, Price. Blame it on their peers. I made a solid case two months ago on an assault charge against Terrence, and the jury acquitted him in forty-five minutes. Anyway, I haven’t been able to shake anyone loose on Lischey Avenue. There is a fourteen-year-old kid who witnessed the murder, but his mom has him in hiding and won’t let him make a statement. I begged and pleaded, but she said no way. I don’t blame her—these guys are absolutely ruthless. There’s a better than even chance he’ll get himself killed if he talks.”
“So what do you want to do?”
“I want Fitz to work his magic on Terrence. See if he can scare anything out of him. Lashon was supposedly his best friend, so maybe Fitz can appeal to the kid’s conscience. If not, we don’t have enough to charge Little Man with this murder, but he is on probation. If Terrence will give it up, we can get him on a weapons charge at the very least. And then charge Terrence as an accessory. Like I said, it’s a mess.”
“Let Fitz go to town. He’ll nail one of them on something, and the rest will topple like dominoes.”
“That’s what I’m hoping. I was gonna pull him in on this anyway.” She got quiet for a minute. “There is one that I wanted to handle myself, but I can turn it over if you want. Suicide last week, seventeen-year-old boy. There’s something way hinky about this one. Rescue got the call that a kid committed suicide. They responded and found the boy shot in the bathroom, but he’d been dead for a few hours. The father made the 911 call. When the officers arrived, he told them he and the boy were sitting side by side on the bed in the father’s bedroom, having an argument. He claims the boy reached over him to the bedside table, pulled the father’s .44 out of the drawer, stood up, walked three feet to the bathroom door, put the gun to his right temple, and pulled the trigger. Sort of an I’ll show you gesture.
“When I got on scene, the father had hidden the gun in a basket across the hall from his room. His kid was lying there in a mess of blood and brains, and the dude asked me if he could step out for a bite to eat. I almost shot him myself. I think the father shot the kid, set the whole scene up.”
“Anything to back up your theory?”
“Instinct. Plus the wound didn’t have any contact burns, but it was such a mess that we’re waiting for the autopsy to come back to get the trajectory. The father has a record of domestic assault—the mother disappeared three months ago. I can’t shake the feeling that he’s lying to us. I’d like to find the mother. May be more than one murder there.”