Page 21 of Framed in Death (In Death #61)

“He was so sweet, getting up because I had to. He said, ‘She-body, you need some chow,’ and made me coffee and a bagel. He even offered to come with, but he’s deep in a cyber scam case, and he thinks they’ll break it today.”

Rounding the second floor, Eve noted that the single slit of a window had been broken and boarded over. She recognized the same artist’s style in the multiple penises inside what looked like a take-out sack. It held the caption:

Eat a bag of dicks Simon.

“I suspect Simon is the building super.”

“I agree with your deduction,” Peabody said. “These stairs have about five years’ worth of grime on them. I don’t think Simon earns his pay.”

On the third floor, the scent of Zoner and despair leaked out of an apartment doorway. Eve watched a mouse streak across the hall and under another door.

On four, someone played depression music just loud enough for misery to coat the air. She walked down to 4-D, keeping a wary eye out for rodents.

“Record on,” she said, and sealed up. “Dallas and Peabody entering apartment of Robert Ren.”

She mastered in to the surprise of a man about the same age as the street thief and buck naked. He stood beside the rumpled sheets over the lumpy mattress of a sagging pullout.

They caught him in full yawn and stretch—and with his wake-up hard-on still in place.

“What the fuck!”

He tossed his head to clear most of the blue hair that covered his face.

“NYPSD.” Eve held up her badge.

“Okay, but what the fuck?” In a sudden swing to modesty, he crossed both hands over his crotch.

“Maybe you should put on your pants and we’ll talk about what the fuck. Got a name?”

“Jed.” He dragged on a pair of baggies way overdue for a wash. “Jed Jensson. Look, if Bobby got busted for something, I don’t have the scratch to bail him. I’m tapped until payday.”

“Do you live here, Jed?”

“Nah.” Now he grabbed a T-shirt off the floor, pulled it over his head. “Bobby lets me flop here some nights. He works nights, I work days. I give him ten when I use the bunk. What’d he do?”

“Got killed.”

Jed’s next yawn ended on a gasp. “What? For real? Man, that’s just down. All the way down.”

“How long have you known him?”

“I dunno. Awhile, a few months. Like I work the line at the all-day breakfast joint down the block, and he comes in most mornings after his stroll. I got booted from my place, and we made a deal about flopping some nights for ten.

“Are you sure he’s dead, because man!”

“Yes. Where’s his usual stroll?”

“He works the porn place—vids? On Seventh and, maybe Forty-Third? Around that. Bobby’s got a deal with the manager, he says.

Like the john coughs it up for two tickets.

Bobby gives the manager, I think, five percent of the sex fee, and Bobby doesn’t have to keep a separate flop for business, or pay the flop the going ten percent.

“Did one of the johns do him?”

“We’re investigating. Do you know any of his friends, associates?”

He started to scratch his balls, then remembered himself.

“Sometimes he’d come in with a couple other LCs. Ah, a woman. Little—I mean short woman. Luce something. And a guy, big guy, Ansel. He said I could make a lot more working the streets, but I got a couple hits, and they look at all that.”

“Yes, they do.”

“Look, I really gotta piss, then I’m out of here. I got work, and I need the job. I’m sorry about Bobby and all, it’s really down, but I just flop here some nights.”

“Go ahead.”

He hotfooted it to the bathroom, where Eve heard the stream through the paper-thin door, and had to admit. He’d really had to piss.

“Run him.”

“Doing that. He’s nineteen, got a juvie record. Illegals possession and intent, a car boost. Another illegals bust about three months ago. No fixed address. He is employed, the last seven months, at Breakfast Any Time.”

When he came out, he tossed the hair out of his face again. “I’m just gonna grab my shoes and take off.”

“We’re going to need your key to the place, Jed.”

Everything sagged, face, body. “Man. It’s not like he’ll be using it.”

“No, he won’t, and we’ll have to seal the flop up for the time being.” Eve held out her hand.

“Well, fuck it.” He dug into a pocket, handed it over. “I don’t have to leave the money for the nights I stayed this week, do I?”

“I think you’re clear there.”

“I guess that’s solid. Maybe I can talk to that asswipe Simon about subletting it or whatever.”

“Do that. And when you do, mention that Lieutenant Dallas, NYPSD, told you that since she personally observed a broken elevator, a poorly secured broken window, acres of grime, and a rodent, he can expect a building inspection by next week. We will be informing the owners of this building of same.”

“That’ll just piss him off.”

“Or,” Peabody said, “you could say you wanted to warn him, give him a heads-up on it.”

Jed brightened up. “Yeah, yeah, like a favor. Okay.” He shoved his feet in a pair of ragged kicks. “Um, anyway. Bye.”

Eve just shook her head when the door banged shut behind him. “How bad is your life when bagging a place like this is a step up?”

She glanced around. In addition to the pullout, he’d had a single chair, a folding table. In lieu of a closet, clothes hung on a rod or piled in a clear tub. In lieu of a kitchen, shelves held a mini-AC with two glasses, two plates, with a mini-friggie beneath.

The place wasn’t particularly messy. There weren’t enough possessions to create one. But domestic cleanliness hadn’t been high on Bobby’s list.

“Let’s give a look. It shouldn’t take long. Then we’ll see if we can hunt up the porn vid manager.”

They found a code-locked tablet, carefully hidden under clothes in the tub, a single brew, a single tube of Coke Plus!, a number of hygiene products that said Bobby cared more about his personal hygiene than that of his environment.

“Baseboard’s wrong there.”

Eve glanced over. “Everything in here’s wrong.”

“No, it’s just a little…” Peabody crouched down on the floor behind the single chair, gave the baseboard a tug.

A section came away in her hands.

“I knew it.”

“Good eye. What’s he hiding?”

Peabody took out a small plastic container.

“Something’s been chewing on it, so eeww.”

“But didn’t get through to his cash stash.”

“No.” Gingerly Peabody pulled off the lid, counted out. “Two-fifty, and one joint. Smells like Zoner, and looks pretty fresh.”

“Probably smoked right after a standard exam. Well, those days are over. Bag it up. We’ll get EDD to open the tablet. Anything else look wrong to you?”

“No.”

“Then let’s seal it up. We’ll find the porn guy, wake him up. When that’s done, I’ll do the notification while we’re in the field. We’ll hit the lab, then the morgue.”

They tracked down Alex Minor, a mixed-race male of thirty-six who lived in a decent apartment in a decent building.

The woman who answered the door looked pleasant and puzzled. Kids could be heard squabbling in the background.

“Ms. Minor. Lieutenant Dallas, Detective Peabody, NYPSD. We’d like to speak to your husband.”

“Oh. He’s sleeping. He works nights. Is it important?”

“Yes, ma’am, it is. We could arrange for Mr. Minor to be brought down to Central later.”

“Oh, I’d hate for you to have to do that. Boys! Hush now and eat your breakfast. It’s nearly time to leave for school.” She turned back to Eve. “Come in. I’ll go tell Alex you’re here.” She gestured to the living area. “Have a seat.”

Eve glanced around as the woman hurried toward a hallway, then turned right.

The living area didn’t have everything in place, but damn close. The furnishings weren’t new and shiny, but well-kept, and the double front windows sparkled clear.

Two kids, spookily identical with their sandy hair, blue eyes, round chins, sat over bowls at a table in the eating area and stared at the newcomers with expressions of suspicion and curiosity.

“Police wear uniforms,” the one on the right said.

“Not all of them.” Peabody smiled.

“Uh-huh. Officer Friendly came to our school. He wore a uniform. And at the parades they wear them.”

“That’s how you know,” the one on the left stated firmly.

“This is also how you know.” Peabody stepped over, held out her badge. “This says I’m Detective Peabody with the NYPSD.”

“Then where’s your uniform?” the first one demanded.

“Boys!” Mom came out. “Don’t badger the police officers. Alex will be right out. Get your bags, we’re going in two minutes.”

She scooped up the bowls, took them into the kitchen.

Instead of getting their bags, both twins walked up to Eve.

“Do you have one of those?”

“Badges? Yeah.” Eve took hers out again.

“Loo… Looie… What does that word say?”

“Lieutenant.”

The second one frowned. “What does it mean?”

“That I’m the boss.”

That seemed to please them, as both nodded, spookily in unison. “We’re going to be the boss one day.”

“Of what?”

Now she got a double eye roll. “We don’t know yet. We’re only seven.”

“Boys, bags! Oh, Alex. This is… sorry, school morning brain.”

“Lieutenant Dallas, Detective Peabody.”

Both kids ran over to their father, wrapped around his waist.

“Scram, you maniacs.” But he leaned down to give them both a quick wrestle. “I’ll see you this afternoon.”

“Park and ice cream,” they cried in stereo.

“Park and ice cream. Beat it.”

“There’s coffee.” His wife gave him a quick kiss. “Breakfast meeting. I’ll tag you after.” She shot an apologetic smile at Eve and Peabody, then herded the twins out the door.

“Can you tell me what this is about?”

“Robert Ren.”

“Robert… oh, Bobby.” He pressed his fingers to sleepy hazel eyes. “Shit. Let me get that coffee. I didn’t get home until almost six. You want some?”

“No, we’re fine.”

“Sit down.” He went into the kitchen, separated by a half wall from the rest. “I’m sorry Bobby’s in trouble, but I really try not to get involved in that area.”

“Bobby Ren’s body was found early this morning.”

“His what? His… body ?” When he almost tipped the mug, Alex grabbed it with both hands. “He’s dead? Jesus. How? When? I just saw him last night.”

“When was that?”

“Hell.” As he stepped out of the kitchen, Alex rubbed at his forehead. “It had to be around eleven-thirty. He’d had a customer.”

“The theater’s considered a public business, and isn’t licensed for sex work.”

Alex sat. “And the only way to stop that would be to hire guards to toss people out. I don’t own the place, and I can tell you, there’s no policing sex in a porn theater.”

“So you profit off it, personally.”

He looked into his coffee, sighed, looked up again.

“Since I took over management eighteen months ago, we haven’t had a single health violation.

Instead of having them sneak in, I’ve worked out an arrangement with the LCs who work that strip.

Yeah, I make some on the side. I also make sure the LCs are safe.

If any customer gets rough, we toss them.

Same with anybody who starts hassling the staff or other customers.

“I’ve got a family, and we want to move, get a house with a yard. Maybe a dog. So I make some on the side, and I keep the place clean and as safe as possible. Bobby didn’t die in the theater, I know that. Nobody hurt him either, inside it.”

“How about giving us your whereabouts last night between midnight and four A.M .”

“Jesus. At work. Last show ended at four-fifteen. Then it takes close to an hour, sometimes more, to shut everything down, clean everything up.”

“Anyone who can verify that?”

“Sure. Assistant manager, vid operator, two security staff, ticket seller, concession workers, maintenance. And then the cleaning crew. I don’t leave until they’re done, or it might not get done.”

“How well did you know Bobby Ren?”

“We had a business arrangement. I don’t know about his personal life.

I’ll say he was cocky.” Catching himself, Alex shook his head.

“No lousy pun intended. Sure of himself. He told me once he wanted to get into the business end. Run a stable, do it right. He looked like a kid. I remember I checked his license, verified it because he looked like a kid.”

“Where was he going when you last saw him?”

“Back out, I guess. I don’t know if he came back in. I don’t remember seeing him. Sometimes they get a customer who wants a flop, or doesn’t want to pay for the tickets. I didn’t think any more about it. I didn’t notice one way or the other.

“What happened to him?”

“Someone strangled him.”

“God.” He covered his face with his hands a moment, rubbed hard, then dropped them. “I don’t know what to say except it didn’t happen in the theater. I can take you through, open it up for you. But after we close, we wash it down. But I’ll open it up for you.”

“Not necessary at this time. He wasn’t killed there.”

“I can be grateful for that. I’m sorry this happened to him, but I’m damn glad of that. And I honestly don’t know what more I can tell you.”

“I think we’ve got it.” She signaled Peabody to give him a card.

“If you think of anything,” Peabody said.

“I’ll talk to the staff. If anybody saw anything, I’ll make sure you hear about it. Nobody had anything against him I know of. He was… no-pun cocky, but likable.”

“Thanks for the time.” Eve started out, stopped. “Did he have any regulars?”

“Maybe. I really tried not to pay much attention to that part of things.”

“Sounds real,” Peabody said when they walked down another flight of steps.

“He’d have had a hard time dressing an LC up and strangling them with a wife and two spooky kids.”

“Twins are kind of spooky.”

“Tell me. Most of the art in there, that apartment? Kid art, family photos. I don’t see him as an art buff. And we can easily confirm he was at the theater at TOD.”

When they made it back to the car, Eve gestured for Peabody to take the wheel. “Lab. I’ll notify the mother on the way.”