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"I give up."
"Cut the skin off the guy's finger. All of it. Down to the bone."
Rhyme gave a faint smile. "Ah, he's a smart one, isn't he?"
"Why's that smart?"
"To make sure nobody came by and took the ring. It was bloody, right?"
"A mess."
"Hard to see the ring in the first place. Then AIDS, hepatitis. Even if somebody noticed, a lot of folks'd take a pass on that trophy. What's her name, Lon?"
The older detective nodded to his partner, who flipped open his watchbook.
"Tammie Jean Colfax. She goes by T.J. Twenty-eight. Works for Morgan Stanley."
Rhyme observed that Banks too wore a ring. A school ring of some sort. The boy was too polished to be just a high-school and academy grad. No whiff of army about him. Wouldn't be surprised if the jewelry bore the name Yale. A homicide detective? What was the world coming to?
The young cop cupped his coffee in hands that shook sporadically. With a minuscule gesture of his own ring finger on the Everest & Jennings ECU panel, to which his left hand was strapped, Rhyme clicked through several settings, turning the AC down. He tended not to waste controls on things like heating and air-conditioning; he reserved it for necessities like lights, the computer and his page-turning frame. But when the room got too cold his nose ran. And that's fucking torture for a quad.
"No ransom note?" Rhyme asked.
"Nothing."
"You're the case officer?" Rhyme asked Sellitto.
"Under Jim Polling. Yeah. And we want you to review the CS report."
Another laugh. "Me? I haven't looked at a crime scene report in three years. What could I possibly tell you?"
"You could tell us tons, Linc."
"Who's head of IRD now?"
"Vince Peretti."
"The congressman's boy," Rhyme recalled. "Have him review it."
A moment's hesitation. "We'd rather have you."
"Who's we?"
"The chief. Yours truly."
"And how," Rhyme asked, smiling like a schoolgirl, "does Captain Peretti feel about this vote of no confidence?"
Sellitto stood and paced through the room, glancing down at the stacks of magazines. Forensic Science Review. Harding & Boyle Scientific Equipment Company catalog. The New Scotland Yard Forensic Investigation Annual. American College of Forensic Examiners Journal. Report of the American Society of Crime Lab Directors. CRC Press Forensics. Journal of the International Institute of Forensic Science.
"Look at them," Rhyme said. "The subscriptions lapsed ages ago. And they're all dusty."
"Everything in here's fucking dusty, Linc. Why don't you get off your lazy ass and clean this pigsty up?"
Banks looked horrified. Rhyme squelched the burst of laughter that felt alien inside him. His guard had slipped and irritation had dissolved into amusement. He momentarily regretted that he and Sellitto had drifted apart. Then he shot the feeling dead. He grumbled, "I can't help you. Sorry."
"We've got the peace conference starting on Monday. We--"
"What conference?"
