neighborhood. And FYI, he’s got a permit to carry in here.” He slipped the wallet in the bag and laid it next to the body for Crime Scene to collect. “So he’s on his last legs, gets confused on his way to the hospital, and those two pieces of crap see an easy target and move in.”
Magozzi stood up, pressing his hands to the small of his back, and looked around at the scene. “It’d be pretty stupid to mug somebody in front of your own house.” He rubbed at the line between his brows. It felt deeper than it had yesterday. “Maybe Hardy was making a commotion out here. Calling for help, whatever. It’s the middle of the night, the guys inside get spooked, and come out packing. Hardy sees two men coming at him with guns in their hands, he starts shooting, and they shoot back. However it went down, it looks like these three killed each other. Case solved.”
Gino’s mouth turned down and his eyebrows went up while he considered. “I don’t know. Five shootings in this neighborhood in two days? This place is on fire all of a sudden. Maybe there’s something bigger going down.”
They walked toward the open door of the house just as the first responders came out in a hurry. They looked a little freaked out, which didn’t bode well for whatever was in that house, although Magozzi had trouble picturing something worse than the three bodies in the front yard.
One of the officers asked, “Are you two the detectives?”
Magozzi nodded and showed his shield.
“Then there’s something in that house you’ve gotta see right now.”
Gino narrowed his eyes. “What are you walking us into, Officer?”
“No shooters, no people, but there are ears out here, you know? Better if you see it for yourselves.”
Magozzi and Gino followed the first responders back into the house, taking in everything they could on the way to the mysterious bad place that had thrown two seasoned beat cops so out of joint.
The interior was nothing but bare walls, and a couple metal folding chairs around a card table that held a laptop and some papers—an eerie ditto of yesterday’s crime scene, sans the two dead guys on the floor in the living room.
One of the cops stopped at an open door at the end of the hallway and clicked on his flashlight, illuminating a dark room with boarded-up windows. “You ever see anything like this, Detectives? I know I haven’t, and this is my turf.”
The corona of the flashlight beam made a warm circle around the cold steel of guns and more guns—big, small, and everything in between: heavy artillery, boxes of ammo, and crates of God knew what, all arranged with efficiency and organization. It looked like a weapons repository at a military base.
“Holy shit,” Gino breathed.
“Pretty scary, right? No wonder we can’t keep guns off the street. Looks to me like we’ve got a world-class arms dealer right here in the heart of the city.”
Magozzi pulled out his own flashlight and played it across the room, finally focusing on a rack of RPGs and the stack of crates labeled with explosives warning symbols. “This isn’t just arms we’re looking at. This is war stuff. And if this house went up, it would level a city block. We have to get the hell out of here and call in the big boys.”
They all made fast tracks to the exit, but on the way out, Gino grabbed Magozzi’s arm and stopped him briefly at the card table, gesturing to a piece of paper. It was a printed calendar page for October, with a bold square of black marker rendered around the thirty-first of the month—Halloween.
15
W hen Annie returned to Harley’s loft Monday morning, resplendent in a shocking pink cashmere sheath, Harley and Roadrunner were already at their workstations. Harley spun in his chair and gave her a once-over. “You’re looking particularly soft and fuzzy this morning.”
Annie curtsied and deposited her tote on the floor by her desk. “How are you two boys doing?”
Roadrunner smiled up at her. “Good.
Magozzi stood up, pressing his hands to the small of his back, and looked around at the scene. “It’d be pretty stupid to mug somebody in front of your own house.” He rubbed at the line between his brows. It felt deeper than it had yesterday. “Maybe Hardy was making a commotion out here. Calling for help, whatever. It’s the middle of the night, the guys inside get spooked, and come out packing. Hardy sees two men coming at him with guns in their hands, he starts shooting, and they shoot back. However it went down, it looks like these three killed each other. Case solved.”
Gino’s mouth turned down and his eyebrows went up while he considered. “I don’t know. Five shootings in this neighborhood in two days? This place is on fire all of a sudden. Maybe there’s something bigger going down.”
They walked toward the open door of the house just as the first responders came out in a hurry. They looked a little freaked out, which didn’t bode well for whatever was in that house, although Magozzi had trouble picturing something worse than the three bodies in the front yard.
One of the officers asked, “Are you two the detectives?”
Magozzi nodded and showed his shield.
“Then there’s something in that house you’ve gotta see right now.”
Gino narrowed his eyes. “What are you walking us into, Officer?”
“No shooters, no people, but there are ears out here, you know? Better if you see it for yourselves.”
Magozzi and Gino followed the first responders back into the house, taking in everything they could on the way to the mysterious bad place that had thrown two seasoned beat cops so out of joint.
The interior was nothing but bare walls, and a couple metal folding chairs around a card table that held a laptop and some papers—an eerie ditto of yesterday’s crime scene, sans the two dead guys on the floor in the living room.
One of the cops stopped at an open door at the end of the hallway and clicked on his flashlight, illuminating a dark room with boarded-up windows. “You ever see anything like this, Detectives? I know I haven’t, and this is my turf.”
The corona of the flashlight beam made a warm circle around the cold steel of guns and more guns—big, small, and everything in between: heavy artillery, boxes of ammo, and crates of God knew what, all arranged with efficiency and organization. It looked like a weapons repository at a military base.
“Holy shit,” Gino breathed.
“Pretty scary, right? No wonder we can’t keep guns off the street. Looks to me like we’ve got a world-class arms dealer right here in the heart of the city.”
Magozzi pulled out his own flashlight and played it across the room, finally focusing on a rack of RPGs and the stack of crates labeled with explosives warning symbols. “This isn’t just arms we’re looking at. This is war stuff. And if this house went up, it would level a city block. We have to get the hell out of here and call in the big boys.”
They all made fast tracks to the exit, but on the way out, Gino grabbed Magozzi’s arm and stopped him briefly at the card table, gesturing to a piece of paper. It was a printed calendar page for October, with a bold square of black marker rendered around the thirty-first of the month—Halloween.
15
W hen Annie returned to Harley’s loft Monday morning, resplendent in a shocking pink cashmere sheath, Harley and Roadrunner were already at their workstations. Harley spun in his chair and gave her a once-over. “You’re looking particularly soft and fuzzy this morning.”
Annie curtsied and deposited her tote on the floor by her desk. “How are you two boys doing?”
Roadrunner smiled up at her. “Good.
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