Page 37 of Witness 8

He was Detective Marvin Neeson. A thirty-year veteran. His career had begun when the city was climbing out of the grip of drugs, gangs and prostitution. When the murder rate was higher than his blood pressure was now. His face had a ruddy hue to it. Not just his cheeks, it looked as if someone had spraypainted his head in a pinkish-red.

‘Bloch?’ he asked.

Bloch nodded, took out her ID, showed it to him.

‘Why are we doing this now? I should’ve been home in bed two hours ago. Instead, I have to come down here and babysit you two,’ said Neeson.

‘We wanted to take a look at the scene around the same time the crime was committed. It helps,’ said Lake.

‘Helps what?’

‘Helps us get a better sense of the crime,’ said Lake.

‘You don’t need to be a friggin’ crime-scene expert to know what happened here. We got the murder weapon. End of story. Say, I didn’t see your ID.’

Lake nodded, said, ‘That’s right.’

‘You ain’t getting inside until I see ID.’

Bloch said, ‘He’s with me.’

She said it as both a statement of fact, and as an end to the conversation. Bloch was well known in New York law enforcement. A few years ago, she had trained some of their best officers in hand-to-hand combat, and advanced driving skills. At first, some of the cops were resistant to being taught self-defense by a woman. A couple were downright mad about it. Those two decided to take her on, on the mats, full contact. One of them was an NYPD golden gloves champion. The other had been an amateur wrestling champ and self-described ju-jitsu expert. Both of them had to eat a lot of shit from their lieutenants when they had to take a couple of months off, on paid sick leave, after their bouts with Bloch.

‘I know you,’ said Neeson.

Bloch nodded.

‘If he’s with you, fair enough. But you’re responsible for him,’ said Neeson, and handed Bloch the key to Margaret Blakemore’s house and got back in his vehicle.

Before Bloch put the key in the door, she stood back, lit up the lock face with a flashlight.

‘No toolmarks,’ she said, then tried the key.

Bloch and Lake went inside and shut the door behind them. Found the light switch.

The hallway was large, dominated by a beautiful wooden staircase with a red carpet in the center of the stairs, held down by brass runners. The floor was pale tile. They spent five minutes with their flashlights tracing the floor, looking for anything out of place, any spot of blood, markings on the floor, anything out of the ordinary. There was nothing.

‘No back door in these houses,’ said Lake. Bloch nodded, and they continued into the room on their left.

What had once been two rooms had been converted into a single living space. Wide and long. Couches, an antique roll top and side tables in the bay window area, and the second area at the back was the kitchen. A large chrome stove and porcelain sink, with a long table in the center of the room. A bench on one side, chairs on the other. It looked like a space for socializing. The stove top looked as if it had never been used. Along the opposite wall was a wine rack.

They scanned the kitchen area quickly and then focused their attention on the living area. Even though cleaners had been employed, there was still a darker grain to the wooden floor just in front of the window. Everything else was neat and in its proper place.

‘What do you think?’ asked Lake.

‘No forced entry. No signs of a struggle. She knew her killer,’ said Bloch.

‘That doesn’t help us with defending the good doctor.’

‘It is what it is.’

Down on her hands and knees, Bloch examined the stain, turned and then stared up at Lake.

‘We know the killer fired three shots,’ she said. ‘One took her in the chest and lodged there. No exit wound. Then, when she was on the floor, two shots to the head. The rounds were .22 caliber. No exit wounds from the skull. There’s not much bloodhere. Massive intercranial hemorrhaging would have led to bleeding from the nose, ears and the entry wounds,’ said Bloch.

‘With the head shots, both entry wounds were mid temple. Half an inch between them. That’s decent grouping,’ said Lake.

Bloch nodded.