Read Sex and Murder.com: A Paul Turner Mystery for Free Online Page A

there.”
    “I agree,” Fenwick said. “The part I like the best is him being able to get in. We get a fingerprint or two of him in all that blood, and we’re in great shape.”
    “He already admitted being in there,” Turner pointed out. “I don’t see how proving the accuracy of his own statement is going to help us much.”
    “I also like Girote as a suspect,” Fenwick said.
    Turner said, “I don’t think he did it.”
    “Why not?”
    “He struck me as the kind of guy who would be confessing loudly and often.”
    “The loudly part I can believe. I’m not ruling him out.”
    Turner said, “We need to find people who knew Lenzati. Let’s try the neighbors and then his office.”
     
    The mid-morning was cool and crisp as they began the canvass of the neighborhood. Turner knew their best hope was to find the neighborhood gossip or a shut-in.
    Judy Wilson and Joe Roosevelt, two other detectives from the squad, joined them. Roosevelt was red-nosed and short, with brush-cut gray hair and bad teeth. Judy was a fiercely competitive African-American woman. They had a well-deserved reputation as one of the most successful pairs of detectives on the force. When Turner and Fenwick met them on the sidewalk, the other two detectives were arguing over what was the proper way to hang the toilet paper roll in a bathroom.
    Turner had heard Roosevelt and Wilson raising their voices to each other about everything from the most appropriate caliber of gun a cop should keep in reserve, to the politics in the Streets and Sanitation Department in the city, to the proper method for sharpening a pencil. He figured they must take delight in disagreeing. Over the years neither had ever requested a transfer. Turner forestalled a resumption in this latest round of debates between them by diverting their attention to the case at hand.
    Turner knew the appearance of extra detectives to help with the canvass was a sure sign that the case was of major concern to the higher-ups in the city bureaucracy. A detective was lucky to have a partner to do the canvass with him, much less extra help. Pressure on the case would only continue to build with each hour they didn’t make an arrest.
    “What have you guys got so far?” Roosevelt asked.
    “A lot of blood,” Fenwick said.
    “We heard you got a no brainer late yesterday,” Wilson said.
    Turner said, “A killer confessing to everything except the Lindbergh kidnapping and taking a shot at JFK.”
    Fenwick said, “I could have kissed her.”
    Roosevelt chanted, “Fenwick and a suspect sitting in a tree, k-i-s—”
    “Cop humor,” Turner interrupted. “Some of the finest and most sophisticated wit on the planet.”
    “Let’s get this done,” Fenwick said.
    bust the neighbors on either side of the house north and south were not at home. At a mansion across the street they found three housekeepers who had seen nothing. At the fourth house, catty-corner from Lenzati’s, they had better luck. A decidedly pregnant woman in her mid-twenties answered the door. She held a child of about three. The detectives introduced themselves and showed their identification.
    “I’m Amanda Veldon. Is it true that Craig Lenzati is …” She glanced at the child in her arms. “Is he?”
    Turner said, “We’d like to ask you a few questions, about your neighbor.”
    “I didn’t really know him.”
    “Any little bit would be helpful.”
    She led them into the house. She placed the child on the floor amid a scattering of toys. She and the detectives sat in comfortable chairs a few feet away.
    “Mr. Lenzati is dead,” Turner spoke softly so the child would not hear the news.
    “How awful. What happened?”
    “We’re trying to build a profile of the victim,” Turner said. “That often helps in solving these cases. What can you tell us?”
    “Not much, I’m afraid. We just moved in a month ago. My husband was transferred here from Puerto Rico.”
    “Does he work in the computer business?”