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“And the second individual?”
Trueheart wet his lips. “The second individual is identified as Louis K. Cogburn of apartment 43F.”
“And who is currently wailing inside apartment 42E?”
“Suzanne Cohen, cohabitation partner of Ralph Wooster. She called for aid out the window of said apartment. Louis Cogburn was assaulting her with what appeared to be a club or bat when I arrived on-scene. At that time—”
He broke off again when Eve held up a finger. “Preliminary examination of victims indicates a mixed-race male—mid-thirties, approximately two hundred and thirty pounds, approximately six foot one—has suffered severe trauma to head, face, and body. A bat, apparently wooden, and marked with blood and brain matter would appear to be the assault weapon. The second male, also mid-thirties, Caucasian, approximately one hundred and thirty pounds, approximately five foot eight, is identified as the assailant. Cause of death as yet undetermined. Second vic bled from ears and nose. There is no visual trauma or wound.”
She straightened. “Peabody, I don’t want these bodies touched. I’ll do the field exam after I talk to Cohen. Officer Trueheart, did you discharge your weapon during the course of this incident?”
“Yes, sir. I—”
“I want you to surrender that weapon to my aide, who will bag it at this time.”
There were grumblings from the two uniforms at the end of the hall, but she ignored them as she held Trueheart’s gaze. “You are not obliged to surrender your weapon without representation present. You may request a representative. I’m asking you to give your weapon to Peabody so there’s no question as to the sequence of this investigation.”
Through the shock, she saw his absolute trust in her. “Yes, sir.” When he reached down for his weapon, she put a hand on his arm.
“Since when are you a southpaw, Trueheart?”
“My right arm’s a little sore.”
“Were you injured during the course of this incident?”
“He got a couple of swings in before—”
“The individual you were obliged to draw on assaulted you in the due course of your duties?” She wanted to shake him. “Why the hell didn’t you say so?”
“It happened awfully fast, Lieutenant. He rushed me, came in swinging, and—”
“Take off your shirt.”
“Sir?”
“Lose the shirt, Trueheart. Peabody, record here.”
He blushed. God, what an innocent, Eve thought, as Trueheart unbuttoned his uniform shirt. She heard Peabody suck in a breath, but whether it was for Trueheart’s undeniably pretty chest, or the bruising that exploded over his right shoulder and mottled the arm to the elbow, she couldn’t be sure.
“He got in a couple of good swings by the look of it. I want the MTs to take a look at you. Next time you’re hurt on the job, Officer, make it known. Standby.”
Apartment 42E was in shambles. Though from what was left of the decor, Eve imagined housekeeping wasn’t a high priority of its residents. Still, it was doubtful the place was normally a minefield of broken glass, or the walls decorated with surreal paintings of blood splatters.
The woman on the gurney looked like she’d known better days as well. A bandage streaked across her left eye, and above it, below it, the skin was raw.
“She coherent?” Eve asked one of the medical technicians.
“Just. Kept her from going all the way under since we figured you’d want a word with her. Make it snappy though,” he told her. “We need to get her in. She’s got a detached cornea, shattered cheekbone, broken arm. Guy whaled on her good and proper.”
“Five minutes. Miss Cohen.” Eve stepped up, leaned down. “I’m Lieutenant Dallas. Can you tell me what happened?”
“He went crazy. I think he killed Ralph. Just went crazy.”
“Louis Cogburn?”
“Louie K., yeah.” She moaned. “Ralph was pissed. Music up so loud you couldn’t think straight. Fucking hot. Just wanted a couple of brews and a little quiet. What the hell? Louie K., he mostly plays the music loud, but this was busting our eardrums. He’s had it wailing for days.”
“What did Ralph do?” Eve prompted. “Ms. Cohen?”
