The street in front of Officer Kellog’s home was now crowded with police vehicles of all descriptions, and Mike was not surprised to see Mickey O’Hara’s antenna-festooned Buick among them.
“I don’t have to tell you what to do,” Chief Lowenstein said as he got out of the car. “Call me after the Milham interview.”
“Yes, sir,” Mike said, and walked toward the District cop standing at the door of the row house.
The cop looked uncomfortable. He recognized the unmarked Plymouth as a police vehicle, and was wise enough in the ways of the Department to know that a nearly new unmarked car was almost certain to have been assigned to a senior white-shirt, but this rumpled little man was a stranger to him.
“I’m Staff Inspector Weisbach. I know your orders are to keep everybody out, but Chief Lowenstein wants me to go in.”
“Yes, sir.”
Captain Henry Quaire and Lieutenant Lou Natali were in the kitchen, trying to stand out of the way of the crew of laboratory technicians.
They don’t have any more business here than I do. You don’t get to be a Homicide detective unless you know just about everything there is to know about working a crime scene. Homicide detectives don’t need to be supervised.
“Good morning, Henry, Lou.”
“Hello, Mike,” Quaire replied. His face registered his surprise, and a moment later his annoyance, at seeing Weisbach.
“Inspector,” Natali said.
Weisbach looked at the body and the pool of blood and quickly turned away. He was beyond the point of becoming nauseous at the sight of a violated body, but it was very unpleasant for him. His brief glance would stay a painfully clear memory for a long time.
“Shot twice, it looks, at close range,” Quaire offered.
“I don’t suppose you know who did it?” a voice behind Mike asked.
Mike turned to face Mr. Michael J. O’Hara of the Bulletin.
“Not yet, Mickey,” Quaire said. “The uniform was told to keep people out of here.”
“I have friends in high places, Henry,” O’Hara said. “Not only do I know Staff Inspector Weisbach here well enough to ask him what the hell he’s doing here, but I know the legendary Chief Lowenstein himself. Lowenstein told the uniform to let me in, Henry. He wouldn’t have, otherwise.”
“He’s out there?” Quaire asked.
O’Hara nodded.
“Talking to Captain Talley.”
“I want to talk to Talley too,” Quaire said, and walked toward the front door.
“So what are you doing here, Mike?” O’Hara asked.
“‘Observing,’” Weisbach said. He saw the displeased reaction on Lieutenant Lou Natali’s face.
“Is that between you and me, or for public consumption?” O’Hara asked.
“Spell my name right, please.”
“‘Observing’? Or ‘supervising’?”
“Observing.”
“Exactly what does that mean?”
“Why don’t you ask Chief Lowenstein? I’m not sure, myself.”
“OK. I get the picture. But—this is for both of you, off the record, if you want—do you have any idea who shot Kellog?”