Powers of Arrest (Will Borders: Cincinnati Casebook 2)

He was not. His body was giving out on him after working the longest straight shift since he had gotten out of the hospital. He usually took a break in the middle of the day and laid down. Not today, and even the gift of adrenaline was starting to run out. His back was catching fire with pain. His right leg felt wrapped around itself with muscle spasms. He had been off pain meds for months now. Nothing to do about that except take Advil back at home. He popped his two Neurontin on time, washing them down with bottled water, and wished he could go upstairs by himself. But jurisdictional niceties must be observed.

“Can’t quit,” he mumbled, waiting for the pills to kick in and lessen the spasms.

He saw the headlights behind him and a dark Ford Crown Vic slowed. He waved and started the car, pulling up to the building’s main entrance. The Covington detective met him at the door. Her name was Diane Henderson, and she was also a thirty-something strawberry blonde, but she was shorter and lacked the youthful dazzle and fit build of Kristen. Henderson was still in the black jeans and white top she had worn when he had first met her and the other Covington cops that morning.

“You have a search warrant?” she said.

Will nodded. With a murdered police officer, the Hamilton County judges had been lined up to sign.

They approached the concierge, a middle-aged black man in a blazer and tie, who exuded a studied dignity. He examined Will’s badge and identification a long time. Will’s shield still lacked the black band of mourning. He’d have to fix that later. Then he read the search warrant. They asked if he had a master key.

“I’ll let you in,” he said. “Terrible thing, what happened to that girl.”

“Yes, sir,” Will said, and asked if the concierge worked there regularly. He did, every night except Monday and Tuesday. All visitors had to check in at his desk. Unfortunately, a log of names wasn’t kept. The concierge called the tenant and then the visitor was allowed to go up.

“Did Ms. Gruber have a boyfriend?” Will asked.

“Hmmmmm. Couldn’t really say, detective.”

“Which means?” Henderson said.

He stared at his shoes. “Which means, ma’am, that she kept male company, but I don’t know which were her boyfriends. I’m not paid to pay attention to things like that. She was a good tenant.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Will said. “So you’re saying she had more than one boyfriend?”

“She was a normal young woman,” the concierge said.

Will asked, “Did she have a lot of men or a few men? Regulars?”

“She was young and attractive. She was burnin’ rubber, if you know what I mean. And I don’t mean anything more than that. She was a good tenant, like I said. I can remember some men who came a few times. Some once or twice.”

They started toward the elevators, Henderson and the concierge sprinting ahead of him, or so it seemed. Will walked as fast as he could and they slowed down. “So they stayed the night? These men?”

“Some did.”

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sp; “Five in one year?” Will asked.

“Sounds about right.” He stared at Will. “Detective, I don’t get paid to keep track of tenants’ personal lives. In fact, I get paid to do the opposite, as long as they follow the rules.”

They stepped in the elevator and started to the fifteenth floor.

Henderson spoke. “What about women?”

“She had women visitors, if that’s what you mean.”

“Any stay the night.”

He paused. “I noticed one. Not my business to know more. Kids today are different.”

The elevator doors slid open with the sound of a whoosh and an electronic bell, and they stepped out into a carpeted hallway.

“We may be back in the next few days to show you photos,” Will said.

“I’ll try to help, but to be honest all you people look alike to me.”

Nobody laughed.