Free The Crossword Connection by Nero Blanc

her?”
    Sister Mary Catherine studied Lever, an expression of growing comprehension and compassion on her quiet face. “I appreciate your concern, Lieutenant, and the strain you must feel … especially given yesterday’s situation, but I’ve spent my life among the lost and hopeless, whether children or adults. Their faces are like road maps, showing each path taken, each disappointment, each mistake, each unfulfilled hope. This unfortunate woman did not live on the streets.”
    â€œOkay, but—”
    â€œI’ve said a prayer for her, and for you and your team of police officers, as well. There’s nothing else I can offer you. Now, if someone could drive me back to the mission, I would appreciate it. I apologize if I seem brusque, but I have a great deal of work … among the living.” She touched Lever’s arm in tranquil finality. “Of course, I will be available at Margaret House if you want to question me further … or should you wish to talk with some of our residents.”
    Lever’s glance moved from the nun to the dead woman and back again. He didn’t speak for a moment; when he did, his tone was solemn. “Thank you for your time, Sister … and for your prayers.” Then he nodded to the officer who’d originally escorted the nun to the scene. As the two walked purposefully away, they passed Carlyle’s van backing down the alley; Sister Mary Catherine briefly placed her hand on the vehicle’s dark metallic side.
    The medical examiner took another fifteen minutes to finish his on-site examination and load the body onto his van. He worked in perfunctory silence, but before leaving the scene, he spoke to Lever while giving a conspicuous nod in Rosco’s direction. “Would you like to hear my initial thoughts or should I wait until we’ve returned to headquarters and dispensed with nondepartmental personnel?”
    Lever sighed. He’d been through this routine before. When Rosco had been NPD, he and Carlyle had had a number of disagreements. The medical examiner resented Rosco’s unconventional methods; Rosco often considered Carlyle’s work sloppy; he felt the city deserved better. To top it off, Rosco’s assessments had a sneaky way of being correct.
    But Lever needed to keep peace, and at the moment, Carlyle was the one who required attention. “Take a hike, will you, Polly—crates? But don’t leave the scene. I want to learn more about this Gus character.”
    Rosco walked to the end of the alley, then strolled into the bus depot and had a chat with with the newspaper vendor. He bought a copy of the Boston Sentinel. By the time he’d returned to the alley, Carlyle had left.
    â€œSo?” he said to Lever.
    â€œWhat do you think, Polly—crates? Carlyle had nothing new to add. Just that he thinks you’re a class-A jerk. He wanted to take this opportunity to reiterate his words of wisdom.”
    â€œThis is interesting.…” Jones said as he crouched to examine the area where the body had been. “The victim’s head was resting on today’s issue of the Boston Sentinel. The Crier copies are all old, but the Boston paper’s new. If we fixed the hour the bus depot newsstand opens, we might be able to narrow our time of death.”
    It was Rosco who answered. “The newsstand’s a twenty-four-hour operation. The Sentinel comes down from Boston between four-thirty and five every morning except Sundays. The current vendor doesn’t remember a homeless woman in overalls, but he didn’t start work until eight A.M. … Of course, she could have pulled the paper out of the trash or gotten it from the coin box on the corner. That information’s from the vendor, not me.” Rosco handed a slip of paper to Lever. “But just in case she didn’t get it from the coin box, here’s the home phone of the guy who had the midnight-to-eight