Page 76 of The Fourth Option
“Dog hair in the hall,” Bates explained.
“Looks like the guy downstairs, just bigger,” Rayne offered. “Same kind of shirt and tattoos.”
“Same smell too,” Gormley added.
“I was getting to that,” Dupuis said.
“So, who killed him?” Bates asked.
Dupuis flipped his notebook closed and looked at the other officers.
“Same person who killed the dude on the landing and downstairs on the back porch?”
“Why kill downstairs man with a shovel and these three upstairs with a firearm?”
“He wanted to keep it quiet downstairs,” Gormley offered.
“Why didn’t the John Doe downstairs have a piece?”
“Excuse me, sir?” Dupuis said.
“Draco AK pistol on the floor over there probably belongs to the stiff who got chewed up by Cujo. This poor fucker without a face is still holding his. Dead asshole at the top of the stairs has the Desert Eagle cannon. But the guy outside is unarmed?”
“Maybe our perp killed him with the shovel and took his weapon, used it on the rest of the crew,” Rayne said.
“Maybe. But who does something like that? Did you find any brass?”
“Just one casing from the Draco so far.”
“Think this guy cleaned up after himself? Grabbed his brass?”
“A more thorough search will tell.”
He lowered his eyes to the dead woman, her hair matted and tangled in a drying pool of blood. “What about her?”
“Multiple contusions to the feet, shins, knees, hands, and wrists,” Dupuis said. “Will probably match the bloody hammer on the floor. Ligature marks on her limbs and the plastic ties indicate she was zip-tied to the chair at her ankles, arms behind her back.”
“Until someone cut her out,” Rayne said.
Bates turned to Gormley. “What did you find in the kitchen?”
“Open bottle of red. Some sort of roast in the oven. Very well done when I got here. The chrome faceplate was smeared with blood.”
“So, she had invited someone for dinner.”
“Yeah,” Gormley said. “That someone killed the rest of these fucks.”
Even though they were inside with the lights on, Bates examined the woman with his penlight. She was dressed up in a silky blouse and nice pants. She was also barefoot, which to Bates’s way of thinking meant she was probably comfortable with whomever she had invited over. He let the light linger a little too long over the thin silk concealing her breasts.
The three subordinate men exchanged a look.
Bates shook his head. “Looks like Mrs. Staub had a date. He interrupted a robbery. Whoever he was, he cut the zip ties and tried to revive her. That’s why she’s out of the chair. He took at least one weapon from the man he killed on the back porch.”
“And why did he leave? Why not call 9-1-1 and wait for the cops? Be a hero?” Dupuis asked.
“Maybe he knows how we treat heroes?”
“What?”
