"Oh, sure, Lincoln," said the aide with a cheerful smile, walking into the room. "Always happy to drop everything in the face of such polite requests."
"We need you again--another chart."
"Do you?"
"Please."
"You don't mean it."
"Thom."
"All right."
" 'Myra Weinburg Crime Scene.' "
The aide wrote the heading and stood ready with the marker, as Rhyme asked, "Now, Pulaski, I understand it wasn't her apartment?"
"That's right, sir. A couple owned it. They're on vacation, on a cruise ship. I managed to get through to them. They'd never heard of Myra Weinburg. Man, you should've heard them; they were way upset. They didn't have any idea who it might've been. And to get in he broke the lock."
"So he knew it was empty and that there was no alarm," Cooper said. "Interesting."
"Whatta you think?" Sellitto was shaking his head. "He just picked it for location?"
"It was real deserted around there," Pulaski put in.
"And what was she doing, do you think?"
"I found her bike outside--she had a Kryptonite key in her pocket and it fit."
"Biking. Could be that he'd checked out her route and knew she'd be by there at a certain time. And somehow he knew the couple were going to be away so he wouldn't have any disturbances. . . . Okay, rookie, run through what you found. Thom, if you would be so kind as to write this down."
"You're trying too hard."
"Ha. Cause of death?" Rhyme asked Pulaski.
"I told the doctor to have the medical examiner expedite the autopsy results."
Sellitto laughed gruffly. "And what'd he say to that?"
"Something like 'Yeah, right.' And a couple other things too."
"You need a bit more starch in your collar before you can make requests like that. But I appreciate the effort. What was the preliminary?"
He looked over his notes. "Suffered several blows to the head. To subdue her, the M.E. thought." The young officer paused, perhaps recalling his own, similar injury a few years ago. He continued, "Cause of death was strangulation. There were petechiae in the eyes and inside the eyelids--pinpoint hemorrhages--"
"I know what they are, rookie."
"Oh, sure. Right. And venous distention in the scalp and face. This is the probable murder weapon." He held up a bag containing a length of rope about four feet long.
"Mel?"
Cooper took the rope and carefully opened it over a large sheet of clean newsprint, dusting to dislodge trace. He then examined what he'd found and took a few samples of the fibers.
"What?" Rhyme asked impatiently.
"Checking."
The rookie took refuge in his notes again. "As far as the rape, it was vaginal and anal. Postmortem, the tour doctor thought."