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“Speculation until the autopsy. Blunt trauma to the back of the head. Fresh needle injection site on left arm. Time of death estimated to be seven-thirty A.M.”
“Could the head injury be the result of a fall?”
“The positioning is inconsistent with a fall, but it’s not completely ruled out.”
“So shortly after he arrived in his office he might
have been knocked out and injected with something that killed him.”
“That’s the current thinking, but again, it’s conjecture. It could also be that he injected himself, had a catastrophic reaction, and fell.”
“What about the knife sticking out of his neck?” Ranger asked.
“He was actually stabbed several times. All postmortem.”
“Ranger ran the security video for me, and I recognized Victor Waggle,” I said to Morelli. “Waggle entered the building at eight-twenty this morning and left a half hour later. He looked angry. He kind of stormed in, waving his hands around and talking to himself.”
“I’ll send someone out to pick him up for questioning,” Morelli said.
Ranger and I exchanged glances.
“What?” Morelli said.
“He could be hard to find,” I said. “He hasn’t got an address.”
“This is the guy who stabbed those two people on State Street, right? He has a snake tattoo on his neck. It’s not like he’s unrecognizable.”
“True,” I said.
Ranger smiled.
“Do you mind if I look around?” he asked Morelli.
“Try not to trip over CSI.”
Ranger studied the photographs on the wall. He looked out the window. He looked at the desktop. Multi-line phone, desk clock engraved to the happy couple from Aunt Tootsie, and a couple pens. Ranger pulled on gloves and went through drawers and file cabinets. He examined the locks on the doors. He went back to Morelli.
“We’re heading out,” Ranger said. “I’ll send you a copy of the video.”
“Appreciate it,” Morelli said. “And remember she has a ten o’clock curfew.”
Another smile from Ranger.
We walked the hall and took the stairs to the garage.
“Is there a way to get into the garage without a keycard?” I asked.
“No.”
“So, we can assume the killer had a front door key or a keycard.”
“Yes, but there are a lot of them floating around. This isn’t a secure building. Some of the tenants prefer it that way. They can bring clients up through the garage after hours and no one knows.”
Ranger left the garage and drove the length of Stark Street. He idled in front of the Snake Pit building.
“You’ve been here,” he said.
“I was here with Lula and Hal.”
