A Simple Act of Violence Read Online Free

‘most of the world is oblivious.’
    They returned to the Sheridan place to check on the forensics unit. Miller stayed downstairs, surveyed the scene before him, tried to imprint every detail on his mind for later reference. He thought of the movie that had been playing. It was something to watch with family at Christmas, not something to watch as you died.
    Roth came down and waited with him as forensics went through Catherine Sheridan’s kitchen, her bathroom, through drawers and cupboards, fingertip-searching her belongings, perhaps believing that they would find something to help explain what had taken place. They knew they were just looking for a single clue, a hint, a suggestion, a lead . . . the one thing that would let them catch this creature by the tail and haul it to the curb.
    It would come. Sure as Christmas. But not when they expected, nor how, nor why.
    Before Miller left he asked after the lead CSA, waited while one of the analysts brought him from upstairs.
    ‘You’re the chief on this?’ the CSA asked.
    ‘First one here, that’s all,’ Miller replied.
    ‘Greg Reid,’ the CSA said. ‘Would shake hands but . . .’ He held up his latex-gloved hands, smears and spots of blood visible on them.
    ‘I’ll leave my card on the table here,’ Miller said. ‘Just wanted you to know who I am, my number if you needed me.’
    ‘Have to give us the time we need,’ Reid said. ‘A day or two . . . I got a whole house to process. You speak to whoever you have to speak to and then come back, okay?’
    Miller nodded. ‘Anything immediate shows up, call me?’
    ‘Do have something,’ Reid said. He nodded toward the telephone table near the front door. ‘Bag there has her passport and a library card in it. She went to the library today, looks like she returned some books. The passport is the only picture I can find of her right now. You’ll need a picture for your walkabout. Maybe have one of your people clean it up, make her look like a human being.’
    ‘Appreciated,’ Miller said. ‘Let me know if there’s anything else.’
    Reid smiled sardonically. ‘What? Like we find the guy left his name and address?’
    Miller didn’t respond. He was tired. A CSA’s relationship ended with the crime scene; Homicide would live with this until it was done.
    Roth and Miller left by the rear door, paused once again in the lot and looked at the back of the house. Lights burned. Shadows up against the windows from the men working inside. Miller stood there until he felt the cold getting to him, Roth beside him, neither of them speaking until Miller told Roth to take the car.
    ‘You’re sure?’ Roth asked.
    ‘I’m going to walk. I could use the exercise.’
    Roth looked at Miller askance. ‘You feel like everyone you meet wants to ask you questions, don’t you?’
    Miller shrugged.
    ‘You heard from Marie?’
    ‘Not a word.’
    ‘She didn’t come get her things from your place?’
    ‘I think she’s gone away for a while.’ Miller shook his head. ‘Fuck, who am I kidding? I think she’s gone for good.’
    ‘Amanda didn’t like her,’ Roth said. ‘She said that she wasn’t down-to-earth enough for you.’
    ‘Tell Amanda that I appreciate her concern, but it was simply a fuck-up. We all know that.’
    ‘You figured out what you’re gonna do yet?’
    Miller appeared momentarily irritated. ‘Go home, would you?’
    Roth glanced back at the Sheridan house. ‘This is the last thing you want, right?’
    Miller looked down at the sidewalk, didn’t answer the question.
    Roth smiled understandingly. ‘I’ll go home now,’ he said, and started away towards the car.
    Miller stayed for ten or fifteen minutes, his attention focused on the lights in the Sheridan house, and then he buried his hands in his pockets and started walking. It was close to ten by the time he reached his apartment over Harriet’s Delicatessen on Church Street. Harriet, ancient and wise, would be out back, drinking warm milk