Page 50 of Unbearable
“Not much yet. I’m hoping his mother knows where he was going last time she saw him. We might need to ask that before telling her about his death. Dex is waiting to run down video as soon as we have a place.”
“Good idea. Are victim services meeting us there?” she asked.
“I told them to wait outside for us. We don’t want it to look like we’re rushing the house. Hopefully he was only into cars, but you never know.”
They reached a small house in one of the rougher parts of town. It couldn’t have been more than a thousand square feet in size with peeling paint and a patched roof. She would bet it was still an object of pride based on the flowerbeds that lined the house. The yard was also clean and neat. She stepped out of the car, meeting Danny on the sidewalk.
“Mrs. Russo,” Dover asked when an older woman answered the door. She guessed this must be Tony’s grandmother. “I’m Detective Addams, and this is Detective Gallagher. We’re with the Boston Police Department. May we come in?”
“Gloria,” the woman shouted over her shoulder before turning back to Dover. “Are you here about Tony?”
“Yes, ma’am. May we step inside?” Danny asked. The woman opened the door, and they slipped inside the house. It was as she expected. Neat, warm, and inviting.
“Mom, what’s going on?” a woman not much older than Dover asked, stepping into the entrance.
“Ms. Russo?” The woman nodded. “May we sit down?” Wordlessly, she ushered them to a floral couch that had to have come straight out of the seventies. They sat down, and the women took the two armchairs. “When was the last time you saw Tony?” Danny continued.
“Two nights ago. He said he was going out with some friends to a bar in the north end,” the younger Ms. Russo said.
“Do you know which bar?”
“Sbarra. He said he might just crash with one of his friends since he had an interview the next morning. Why, what’s happened?”
“Can you give me a list of his friends?”
“If you tell me what’s happened.”
“Ms. Russo,” Dover cut in. “I’m so sorry to have to tell you, but we found Tony deceased this morning.” She watched as the older woman cried out and clutched the younger’s hand.
“Give me your book,” the younger woman hissed. Danny handed her his notebook and pen. She hastily scrawled something on it before handing it back. “Those are his friends. Tell me what happened.”
“We don’t have all of the details yet, but I promise to keep you informed as we get more information. There is a liaison outside who would like to introduce themself. They will make sure to answer any questions you might have. May we have them come inside?” Danny waited for them to nod then got up.
“I’m so sorry for your loss,” Dover said again.
“Just tell me you’ll find out what happened,” the younger woman said. She now had her arm around the older woman as she cried into a handkerchief.
“I will do my very best. That, I promise you.”
CHAPTER 19
Fox bentover the new floorboard he was nailing in place. The Victorian home needed more work in the attic than he had originally thought. Every time he turned around, there was another problem.
He also had the problem of Edmund sitting around watching him as he worked. He had been Edmund’s entire focus from the moment he started.
The second story had a team working on the remodel, but the owner’s son insisted he handle the attic personally. The space wasn’t part of the original remodel when air conditioning was installed. It was the attic after all. He’d set up fans but still poured sweat. Nothing seemed to help.
It was late in the afternoon, and for once, it was just him in the attic. Sweat ran down his body in rivulets. He debated taking his T-shirt off.
Then Edmund showed up with his iced drink and nasty smirk. Something about him gave Fox the creeps. Everything about him gave Fox the creeps. The work was progressing slowly as well because of one specific problem—the man kept asking him questions.
Edmund took a seat in the lawn chair he had dragged up. Fox felt his gaze run over him as he undoubtedly was thinking of the best way to torture him. Finally, he sat his drink on an old box next to him and cleared his throat. Fox braced himself for the onslaught.
“Why do you have to replace those boards? They look fine to me,” Edmund asked.
“There’s old termite damage. They’re too weak for continual foot traffic,” he answered. He began another countdown in his head. It felt like the hundredth since the project began, but he knew it was better than losing it on a client.Did the man never go to a job?He let his mind focus on ripping out the current board and counting backward from ten.
“Hmm.” Edmund always answered with a derisive sounding grunt if the reason Fox did something didn’t agree with his observation. Fox would love to leave the floors as is so Edmund would fall through them eventually. Not enough, though, to lose his job over.