Free Bleed (Detective Ellie MacIntosh) by Kate Watterson Page A

all.”
    *   *   *
    The scene wasn’t pretty.
    Good.
    Carl Grasso was itching to get his hands on a real case again. Not the bullshit dead-addict-in-an-alley-with-a-needle-still-in-his-arm—that did not particularly require much detective work—but something like this that was different.
    There was blood splatter and lots of it on the walls, the window still open. Two bodies were sprawled in the mockery of death, one victim on the floor on his back, eyes still open, his dark shirt soaked in blood. The other one sat against the wall, as if he’d been thrown back by the impact of the bullet and slid down, which from the dark vertical stain must have been the case, like a snail leaving a slimy trail. This was obviously the dining room, with tall windows that overlooked a terrace, a long table with ten chairs, a crystal chandelier that illuminated the whole mess, and an obviously expensive oriental carpet that would never be the same.
    The new medical examiner was busy taking notes. Grasso hadn’t met her yet, and he had to admit she handled the scene in a capable fashion, her voice clipped as she gave instructions, her dark hair drawn back in a slick ponytail. Dr. Hammet glanced up as they approached and acknowledged their brief greeting and the flash of their badges. “Hello, Detectives. Word of warning, this is an interesting one. As usual, I’ll be able to tell you more once I’ve got them back at the morgue and do a thorough autopsy, but on the face of it, we have both of them shot with the same weapon, from a fairly close range. Your perpetrator has excellent aim. They both went down with one shot to the heart. From their position, I am going to say it happened in rapid succession, for it doesn’t look like either one of them had a chance to try to run.”
    First clue. A marksman. Not easy to do .
    MacIntosh crouched down and stared at the first victim. “I’ve never seen him before, but I’m almost as new to the department as you are, Doctor. Were they carrying identification?”
    “I think so.” The ME snapped off a glove. “This one’s front pocket is partially pulled inside out. “Whoever shot him probably took it, or that would be my interpretation. If you want ID, it isn’t here.”
    “Well … that’s a disappointment.” Carl meant it, looking at the victims. They were both maybe average height—was hard to tell on the one who was sitting up—white males, in their twenties, probably. One had slightly darker hair than the other, but was otherwise not very distinguishable from about a million other men in the state of Wisconsin.
    Ellie laughed and when they both looked at her, she just smiled ruefully. She was a slender, pretty blonde that had come from a county sheriff’s department up north, and she’d been assigned to homicide thanks to a serial murder case where she’d tracked down a killer that had been terrorizing that area for over a year. “I worked with Detective Santiago on my last multiple homicide case. Let’s just say his language would have been much more colorful. I’m still adjusting back to working with normal human beings.”
    There might have been a glimmer—just a hint—of a smile on Dr. Janis Hammet’s face. She rubbed her cheek with her ungloved hand. “I’m new and I’ve already been warned Santiago is somewhat of an acquired taste. Anyway, I’m sorry I can’t give you more, but it isn’t here. I am not going to say it is a professional hit necessarily, but I am going to say the shooter was prepared. It looks to me like they cleared the window, and he took them down one by one. Bang-bang and done.”
    When Carl surveyed the sprawled bodies and crime scene tape, it looked like that to him too. “I agree. They are both armed and it wasn’t a firestorm, but an execution.”
    “Whoever shot them knew they were coming.” MacIntosh knelt by the closest body without flinching. “Waited for them. A .38 maybe. It would have to be decently close range to be