The Violet Crow Read Online Free Page A

perpetrator. They leave behind residues of those emotions on things they’re in contact with during the event. Just like fingerprints. Blood. Fibers. Candy wrappers. I can pick up traces of fear, pain, panic, anger, or lust. The intensity of emotion leaves psychic clues that I can retrieve …” He stood up abruptly and walked toward the Chief, “But not when the crime scene’s been trampled on like this one has.”
    â€œI never worked with a psychic before,” Chief Black stammered. “We thought we were finished here.”
    Bruno patted him on the shoulder. “No way you could have known. Just explaining for future reference.” He shoved his hands deep into his jacket pockets and swiveled around to survey the room. “Boy, it’s cold in here. When do you think this place was built?”
    â€œColonial times, I guess. Sign says the school was founded in the 1760s or something like that.”
    â€œThey sure didn’t know much about heating a building in those days, did they?”
    â€œMaybe the Quakers didn’t believe in it.”
    â€œLike it’s a form of vanity to be warm? Hard to get in touch with God when you’ve got a frozen tush .” Bruno shifted to a different topic. “So, Chief, how do you think the body got here? What’s your theory?”
    â€œWe don’t have a very good one, I’m afraid. You’d have to suspect an inside job because there’s no sign of a break-in. But none of the people with access to the building are very likely suspects. First of all, they’re all Quakers. Most of the teachers are older women. Hard to imagine them breaking necks and hauling a dead body around. Master Quentin, the head of the school? He’s famous for being a conscientious objector.”
    â€œWhat about the maintenance guy? The older guy who let us in this morning?”
    â€œBennett DeKalb. He’s worked at the school for I don’t know how long. Ever since Master Quentin got here. Sometime back he stole the school truck. We tracked him down. He apologized. Returned the truck in good condition. The school declined to press charges. And they let him keep his job. No problems since then.”
    â€œSo he’s the most likely suspect. Did you talk to him?
    â€œAbsolutely. He has an airtight alibi.”
    â€œReally. Airtight?”
    â€œYeah. He plays darts at a bar over in Audubon. They were having a tournament that night, which he won by the way. At least a dozen people saw him.”
    â€œThat’s some alibi. What about Quentin?”
    â€œLike I told you. He got drafted, refused to serve so they put him in some kind of medical unit …”
    â€œI meant today. You say he’s not around …”
    â€œNot till this afternoon.”
    OK. Let’s go see the girl. We can pop back in and see Quentin after lunch. Do you think the morgue’ll be this cold?”
    The Chief drove toward Camden, then headed north on Route 130—a dismal parade of bankrupt businesses, empty apartments, fast food, gas stations and a cemetery or two. Then he swung around into a residential neighborhood. Bruno wondered why they would put the morgue in the middle of a residential neighborhood. The Chief kept turning and Bruno grew more disoriented by the second. Finally they arrived at a housing project with a chain link fence at the end of its parking lot. Somehow the Chief found an opening and they drove up to a squat blue building that looked like a bunker. At the back was a loading dock with three bays, presumably for ambulance deliveries.
    â€œI couldn’t find my way back here in a million years,” Bruno mumbled, half-dizzy, as he hauled himself out of the cruiser.
    â€œJust as well,” yawned the Chief. “It’s not a place you want to visit, even under your own power.” The parking lot was almost empty and there weren’t any medic trucks in the back. A good sign. He