tears.
“I saw her just six days ago,” said Maura. “At another death scene.” She looked up at Tripp. His face was hidden in shadow, and all she saw was that hulking silhouette looming above her. “The one over in East Boston.”
He nodded. “Eve joined the unit just a few weeks ago. Came over from Narcotics and Vice.”
“Does she live in this neighborhood?”
“No, ma’am. Her apartment’s down in Mattapan.”
“Then what’s she doing here on Beacon Hill?”
“Even her boyfriend doesn’t know. But we have some theories.”
Maura thought of the young cop she’d just seen sobbing in Daniel’s arms. “Her boyfriend is that police officer? The one with Father Brophy?”
“Ben’s taking it pretty hard. Goddamn awful way to find out about it, too. Out on patrol when he heard the chatter on the radio.”
“And he has no idea what she’s doing in this neighborhood? Dressed in black, and packing a weapon?”
Tripp hesitated, just long enough for Maura to notice.
“Detective Tripp?” she said.
He sighed. “We gave her kind of a hard time. You know, about what happened on Christmas Eve. Maybe the teasing got a little out of hand.”
“This is about her getting sick at the crime scene?”
“Yeah. I know it’s juvenile. It’s just something we do to each other in the unit. We kid around, insult each other. But Eve, I’m afraid she took it pretty personally.”
“That still doesn’t explain what she’s doing on Beacon Hill.”
“Ben says that after all the teasing, she was pretty fixed on proving herself. We think she was up here working the case. If so, she didn’t bother to tell anyone else on her team.”
Maura looked down at Eve Kassovitz’s face. At the staring eyes. With gloved hands, she pulled aside strands of blood-stiffened hair to reveal a scalp laceration, but she could palpate no fractures. The blow that had ripped that flap of scalp did not seem serious enough to have caused death. She focused next on the torso. Gently she lifted the sweater, uncovering the rib cage, and stared at the bloodstained bra. The stab wound penetrated the skin just beneath the sternum. Already, the blood had dried, a frozen crust of it obscuring the margins of the wound.
“What time was she found?”
“Around ten P.M. Butler came out earlier, around six P.M ., to bring out a trash bag, and didn’t see her then.”
“He took out the trash twice tonight?”
“There was a dinner party for five people inside the house. Lotta cooking, lotta garbage.”
“So we’re looking at a time of death between six and ten P.M. ”
“That’s right.”
“And the last time Detective Kassovitz was seen alive by her boyfriend?”
“About three this afternoon. Just before he headed to his shift.”
“So he has an alibi.”
“Airtight. Partner was with him all evening.” Tripp paused. “You need to take a body temp or something? ’Cause we already got the ambient temperature if you need it. It’s twelve degrees.”
Maura eyed the corpse’s heavy clothes. “I’m not going to take a rectal temp here. I don’t want to undress her in the dark. Your witness has already narrowed down the time of death. Assuming he’s correct about the times.”
Tripp gave a grunt. “Probably down to the split second. You should meet this butler guy, Jeremy. I now know the meaning of anal retentive.”
A light slashed the darkness. She glanced up to see a silhouette approaching, flashlight beam sweeping the courtyard.
“Hey, Doc,” said Jane. “Didn’t know you were already here.”
“I just arrived.” Maura rose to her feet. In the gloom, she could not see Jane’s face, only the voluminous halo of her hair. “I didn’t expect to see you here. Crowe was the one who called me.”
“He called me, too.”
“Where is he?”
“He’s inside, interviewing the home owner.”
Tripp gave a snort. “Of course he is. It’s warm in there. I’m the one who has to freeze his butt out
“I saw her just six days ago,” said Maura. “At another death scene.” She looked up at Tripp. His face was hidden in shadow, and all she saw was that hulking silhouette looming above her. “The one over in East Boston.”
He nodded. “Eve joined the unit just a few weeks ago. Came over from Narcotics and Vice.”
“Does she live in this neighborhood?”
“No, ma’am. Her apartment’s down in Mattapan.”
“Then what’s she doing here on Beacon Hill?”
“Even her boyfriend doesn’t know. But we have some theories.”
Maura thought of the young cop she’d just seen sobbing in Daniel’s arms. “Her boyfriend is that police officer? The one with Father Brophy?”
“Ben’s taking it pretty hard. Goddamn awful way to find out about it, too. Out on patrol when he heard the chatter on the radio.”
“And he has no idea what she’s doing in this neighborhood? Dressed in black, and packing a weapon?”
Tripp hesitated, just long enough for Maura to notice.
“Detective Tripp?” she said.
He sighed. “We gave her kind of a hard time. You know, about what happened on Christmas Eve. Maybe the teasing got a little out of hand.”
“This is about her getting sick at the crime scene?”
“Yeah. I know it’s juvenile. It’s just something we do to each other in the unit. We kid around, insult each other. But Eve, I’m afraid she took it pretty personally.”
“That still doesn’t explain what she’s doing on Beacon Hill.”
“Ben says that after all the teasing, she was pretty fixed on proving herself. We think she was up here working the case. If so, she didn’t bother to tell anyone else on her team.”
Maura looked down at Eve Kassovitz’s face. At the staring eyes. With gloved hands, she pulled aside strands of blood-stiffened hair to reveal a scalp laceration, but she could palpate no fractures. The blow that had ripped that flap of scalp did not seem serious enough to have caused death. She focused next on the torso. Gently she lifted the sweater, uncovering the rib cage, and stared at the bloodstained bra. The stab wound penetrated the skin just beneath the sternum. Already, the blood had dried, a frozen crust of it obscuring the margins of the wound.
“What time was she found?”
“Around ten P.M. Butler came out earlier, around six P.M ., to bring out a trash bag, and didn’t see her then.”
“He took out the trash twice tonight?”
“There was a dinner party for five people inside the house. Lotta cooking, lotta garbage.”
“So we’re looking at a time of death between six and ten P.M. ”
“That’s right.”
“And the last time Detective Kassovitz was seen alive by her boyfriend?”
“About three this afternoon. Just before he headed to his shift.”
“So he has an alibi.”
“Airtight. Partner was with him all evening.” Tripp paused. “You need to take a body temp or something? ’Cause we already got the ambient temperature if you need it. It’s twelve degrees.”
Maura eyed the corpse’s heavy clothes. “I’m not going to take a rectal temp here. I don’t want to undress her in the dark. Your witness has already narrowed down the time of death. Assuming he’s correct about the times.”
Tripp gave a grunt. “Probably down to the split second. You should meet this butler guy, Jeremy. I now know the meaning of anal retentive.”
A light slashed the darkness. She glanced up to see a silhouette approaching, flashlight beam sweeping the courtyard.
“Hey, Doc,” said Jane. “Didn’t know you were already here.”
“I just arrived.” Maura rose to her feet. In the gloom, she could not see Jane’s face, only the voluminous halo of her hair. “I didn’t expect to see you here. Crowe was the one who called me.”
“He called me, too.”
“Where is he?”
“He’s inside, interviewing the home owner.”
Tripp gave a snort. “Of course he is. It’s warm in there. I’m the one who has to freeze his butt out
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