Blood Ties Read Online Free PDF

give her a douche or that he was concerned for her modesty?”
    Sam pursed his lips slightly, which meant that he saw her point. “By that logic, then the glass in the kitchen was left behind deliberately. And if it yields a usable saliva sample, it’ll match up with the semen.”
    â€œThat’s right. And if the panties didn’t do the job, he’s given us a backup. He wants us to have his DNA.”
    â€œAnd the glass will check clean for prints.”
    â€œHe knows what he’s doing, Sam.”
    â€œThen he’s very weird, even for a guy who likes to carve up waitresses.”
    â€œYes, he’s very weird.”
    *   *   *
    The discovery of Sally Wilkes’ internal organs meant virtually a second autopsy. And because their villain seemed to have such a wonderful sense of fun, Forensics would even have to cross-check tissue samples to make sure they really were Sally Wilkes’ internal organs and not some other lucky girl’s. It would be the middle of the week before the reports were ready, and in the meantime the investigation would have to subsist on such tidbits as Dr. Shaw felt inclined to dispense through his subordinates.
    While they waited for the evidence team to show up Ellen had a chat with the elderly couple who lived downstairs and, as expected, owned the duplex. They hadn’t heard anything, and they hadn’t seen any strangers around. They didn’t seem to like their tenant very much and didn’t seem surprised when they were told she had been found dead that morning.
    What really offended them was hearing that the apartment would be sealed.
    â€œWas she killed up there?”
    â€œWe don’t think so,” Ellen replied, hoping she wouldn’t have to tell them about what was in the upstairs bathtub. “But we have reason to believe the murderer may have been on the premises, so it’s a possible crime scene.”
    â€œWell, how long will it have to be empty?”
    â€œHard to say. A few months at least.”
    â€œIt’s the last time we ever rent to a single,” the woman said, clutching her bathrobe around her as she sat on the sofa in her living room, glaring at her husband as if he were somehow responsible. They were probably in their seventies, but both of them looked frail and bleached out. Even their eyes seemed colorless. “Singles are worse than people with young kids.”
    Outside, technicians from Evidence were busy unloading a blue van and preparing for their assault on the walkup.
    â€œWe can go now,” Sam announced, his face as empty of expression as a dish towel. “As you know, I’m allergic to fingerprint dust.”
    *   *   *
    Since it was Sunday, and also Sam’s turn to buy, they had lunch out of the vending machines on the third floor of police headquarters. Ellen had a bag of corn chips and coffee. Sam was the only person she knew who was actually prepared to eat the sandwiches.
    â€œWhat is it today?”
    Sam spread open one corner of the sandwich and looked inside, shaking his head. “The label says salami, but I’m not certain.
    â€œTell you what, if I volunteer to do some phoning around, will you write the sheets?”
    â€œSure. Give me your notes on the guy who found her.”
    The arrangement in Homicide was that partners had adjoining desks and one computer, each little constellation changing owners from shift to shift. The computer was always on the junior partner’s side.
    You filled out form sheets. There was an arrest sheet, an interrogation sheet, a search sheet, a properties sheet. It was endless. Ellen always did the sheets. She was the junior partner and she could type.
    Meanwhile Sam checked in with the Men’s Club, that vast network of drinking buddies and guys in this or that department who owed him favors or just liked to gossip about whatever case or semipublic scandal was on at the moment.