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having me hang around here while you get a warrant? It’s cold as hell, partner.”
           “You’re going to have to,” Shannon said. “She’ll clean out the place if you don’t. I’ll bring you back some coffee and a couple of doughnuts.”
           “Son of a bitch,” DiGrazia swore. “I’m going to freeze my ass out here.” He walked over to the in-law apartment entrance and peered in. “Get me some chocolate glazed.”
    * * * * *
           Judge Harold Coen was explained the urgency of the matter, and although he grumbled about the thinness of the evidence, he issued a search warrant for John Roper’s apartment. When Shannon returned to the triple-decker, Joe DiGrazia was breathing into his cupped hands. He gave Shannon a long, pained look, and Shannon handed him a cup of coffee and a bag of chocolate glazed doughnuts.
           “Anything happen?”
           DiGrazia took a sip of the coffee. “She snuck down at one point, but when I flashed the light at her, she scurried back upstairs.”
           “They’re still home then?”
           “Yeah, no movement.”
           Shannon walked up to the main entrance and rung the bell. There was no answer. After waiting, he knocked on the door and yelled out that he had a warrant.
           “Hell with it, we’ve got a warrant, right?” DiGrazia asked without waiting for an answer. He broke the glass pane on the basement door and unlocked it from the inside.
           Roper’s apartment was nothing more than a room with a bed, a worn-out sofa, a TV, a cheap stereo, and a table. In the corner was a small galley kitchen and next to that, a bathroom. A staircase led to the upstairs level. Dirty clothes and tissues littered the floor. Dishes were stacked up in the sink, a layer of grease covered the kitchen countertop. The apartment smelled faintly of urine. Shannon found a vodka bottle lying next to the bed. It was two thirds empty and rotgut quality.
           The door to the upstairs level opened. Wendy Soretti bounced down the stairs wearing a large, ratty bathrobe. Her husband peered down the staircase after her, but stayed where he was.
           “You broke into my house,” she accused, her voice harsh but barely above a whisper.
           “We have a search warrant,” Shannon said. He handed her a document. “You failed to open the door for us.”
           She glared at the paper and then at Shannon. “I didn’t hear you. Look at my door—you’re destroying my property. I’m calling the police.”
           “Feel free to do what you want,” DiGrazia said. “Just don’t interfere with our police work.”
           The husband’s face disappeared from the top of the staircase. Wendy Soretti walked over to the phone, picked it up, and then put it back down. She glared at both officers. “I’m going to watch you,” she said. She took a small notebook and pen from her bathrobe pocket.
           “Do whatever you want,” DiGrazia grunted as he pushed the mattress off the bed.
           Shannon had found a collection of porn magazines and metro bus schedules buried within a pile of newspapers. He called DiGrazia over and showed him what he found. Wendy Soretti peered angrily at them and jotted something down in her notebook.
           Shannon noted that it was an interesting collection for a guy who had been chemically castrated. DiGrazia suggested that Roper probably had them for the articles.
           “Yeah, I’m sure that’s it.” Shannon pointed out the bus schedule Roper had for Somerville. “You notice, partner, there’s a five-twenty bus from Revere that gets to Somerville by five forty.”
           DiGrazia stared at the bus schedule, his eyes narrowing as he studied it. He turned towards Roper’s sister. “Do you know how long he’s had these?” he asked her.
           “I’m not talking to you,” she