Truth Read Online Free PDF Page A

cards, the PINs?’
    ‘They actually have no idea who could get into the apartment. Just about anyone in security can make a card, program the PIN. Then later they could change back to the old ones.’
    ‘Shit. Okay, moving on. Scientists.’
    Dove inclined his head at Weber.
    ‘No prints, they say DNA’s unlikely, it’s cleaner than a hospital,’ said Weber, the bright look.
    ‘No longer a benchmark, hospitals,’ said Villani. ‘What’s the butchery say?’
    Weber had a printout. ‘Time of death around midnight on Thursday. C5 snapped, very likely head jerked back, no bruising or abrasions. Recent intercourse. Tearing to vaginal and anal passages. No semen. Used cocaine. She’s sixteen to twenty. Scar on left tricep, more than a year old. Bruising on her ribs left side, probably punched, that’s recent. Slightly displaced septum, probably in the last six months.’
    Silence.
    ‘So what do they offer?’ said Villani.
    Weber coughed, he looked at Dove.
    Dove said, ‘She’s possibly had her hands tied, she’s gagged, something soft, there’s vaginal and anal intercourse, he’s behind her, he’s very big, as in huge or he’s wearing something or it’s an object, that kind of thing. He at some point jerks her head back violently, breaks her neck. He would have her head in his hands. He places her in the bath and washes her, pulls plug.’
    ‘Then,’ said Weber, ‘then he disposes of her clothes, shoes, everything and wipes all surfaces touched.’
    ‘Just another homey night in the Prosilio building,’ Villani said. ‘Before the sex, they probably ate pizza, watched a DVD. Checkedfor that, did you, Mr Dove?’
    Dove blinked. ‘Ah, no. No.’
    ‘Possibly
Pretty Woman,’
said Villani. ‘Religious text for hookers. Hooker’s New Testament. Message of salvation. Familiar with it, Mr Weber?’
    Weber made a smile, perhaps he forgave the levity, they would never know. ‘You’re saying that, boss? A hooker?’
    ‘No,’ said Villani. ‘I’m just leaning that way. I’m close to falling over. Checked the laundry chute, the garbage?’
    ‘Nothing in the laundry chute,’ said Dove. ‘Garbage taken on Friday morning. It’s in the landfill.’
    ‘That’s really promising,’ said Villani. ‘The manager produce the other stuff?’
    ‘I don’t think Manton’s flat out on this,’ said Dove, stroking his head. ‘He referred us to Ulyatt, to Marscay. The owners.’
    Ulyatt. The man who could speak to someone who could tell the chief commissioner what to do.
    ‘What about the casino guests?’
    Dove looked at Weber. Weber said, ‘Uh, I left that with Tracy, boss. Casino security is run by a company called Stilicho. Sounds like it’s part of Blackwatch Associates.’
    ‘Well, retrieve it,’ said Villani. ‘That’s not her job. Since when do Blackwatch do this kind of thing?’
    ‘Don’t know much about Blackwatch, boss,’ said Weber.
    ‘The name Matt Cameron mean anything?’
    ‘The cop?’
    Villani had served under the legendary Matt Cameron, gone to the scene of the killings of his son and his girlfriend, taken part in the massive, fruitless man-hunt.
    ‘Once the cop. He runs Blackwatch. Part owns.’
    ‘This lot is a new company,’ said Dove. ‘I think it’s Blackwatch in partnership with someone else.’
    ‘Okay,’ Villani said. ‘Dead woman, no clothes, no ID, no idea how she got there, no vision, so we have dogshit.’
    ‘Encapsulated it, boss,’ said Dove, the little smile-smirk.
    Villani rose, stretched his arms up, sideways, rolled his head, some bones clicked, he went to the window, he could not see the eastern hills, lost in smoke. He thought about his trees. If they went, he would never go back there, he would not be able to bear that sight. Smoke, he needed a smoke, he would always need a smoke. Weber would always be a pain, his purity a living reprimand, but he would worry and lose sleep, do a good job. Dove was another matter. Too clever, too cocky, not enough