Free The Kills by Linda Fairstein

weeks ago.
    "What
do you need?"
    "You
told me you were going to assign last night's homicide to someone."
    "I
forgot about it completely." I had promised Mike that I would tell Sarah
Brenner, my deputy, to make one of the unit assistants available on the murder
of the elderly woman.
    "I
know. I just tried to reach Sarah so I wouldn't bother you. She didn't know
what I was talking about. I could hear her kids in the background-"
    "She's
got her hands full at this hour."
    "I
think I can make it easy for you. Just a quick detour. Dr. Kirschner thinks I'm
wrong about the rape. Autopsy shows no sign of sexual assault."
    "Nothing?"
I asked.
    "Not
a single thing with a foreign profile. No semen, no loose pubic hair-"
    "Bruising?"
I would expect, in a woman as old as Mike's victim, that the vaginal vault
would exhibit lacerations and swelling, because of the atrophy that accompanied
the lack of sexual activity.
    "Not
internal. Not even on her thighs."
    "Sounds
like a blessing to me if she wasn't subjected to rape as a final
indignity."
    "Kirschner
thinks the scene was staged to look like a sexual assault. He just finished up
and if you can get there within the hour, he'd go over the results with you and
show you the crime scene photos. Brainstorm and see what you think. That way I
can get started in a new direction when I go in tomorrow morning."
    "Okay."
    "And
Coop? Say good night to Queenie for me?"
    "Is
that her name?"
    "McQueen
Ransome. Known to her neighbors as Queenie. Lived in that same little apartment
for the last fifty years. Never hurt a fly."
    "Family?
Next of kin?"
    "Not
a soul. Had one son who died before he got to high school. No sign that she was
ever married, but there are pictures of the boy on the wall in the living
room."
    "Sounds
like a stupid question to ask about an eighty-two-year-old lady, but did she
have any enemies?"
    "Not
that I heard about today. Kids were hanging out all over the stoop. They loved
her. Did all the errands for her in exchange for candy, and some
entertainment."
    "What
do you mean?"
    "She'd
sing and dance for the kids, that's what they say. Put on her old vinyl records
and cut a rug. I got a whole children's crusade working on the case with me.
Told 'em all they could be my deputies if they catch the killer. Anyway, leave
a message on my cell and I'll speak to you at the end of the day
tomorrow."
    "Last
thing, Mike. You make any progress on Tiffany Gatts?"
    "She
won't be arraigned before morning. There was a labor demonstration over in the
garment district, and the backup cause of all the extra arrests for dis con is
cramming the system. Have Mercer walk you to your car. Mama Gatts'll be looking
for blood."
    "Thanks
for the reminder."
    "We
may have a lead on the mink. Found an open squeal in the Seventeenth Precinct.
UN delegate from France named du Rosier. Reported a theft six months back. He
and his wife thought it was an inside job. His chauffeur had access to the
apartment, even when the couple was back in Europe. A bunch of jewelry, two furs,
and some pricey antique silver service."
    "Any
description?"
    "The
du Rosiers are traveling at the moment. I'll try and get something more
detailed from their insurance company tomorrow. Speak to you then."
    Mercer
waited while I closed up and we headed out the door together. My car was parked
near the intersection of Centre Street and Hogan Place, at the corner of the
courthouse. The laminated NYPD plate displayed in the windshield was one of the
privileges of rank in the office, and I was pleased that no one had
double-parked me in place, as often happened when cops delivered prisoners to
the courthouse.
    The dump
sticker from the town of Chilmark, where my home on Martha's Vineyard was
located, and the Squibnocket beach pass on the rear window, were the only
things that personalized my winter-green SUV. It was even more heartwarming to
see that the Vineyard stickers had not seemed to draw the attention or wrath of
Etta Gatts, who might have