Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
December 11
Another fun-filled Tuesday night, or now, Wednesday morning. Detective Aiden McIntyre stood in the taped-off alley and jammed his gloved hands into the pockets of his parka. It had to be close to 4 a.m. He’d been standing in the biting cold while his team worked. Portable floodlights illuminated the grim setting. Aiden choked down the last of the ice-cold coffee that had tasted like shit when it was hot and shoved the cup into the loose trash bag at his feet.
The Medical Examiner’s van pulled up and stopped at the barricade. Eliza Bright, the forensic pathologist, walked toward him, pulling on her latex gloves, her breath misting the air. Aiden handed her the remaining lidded cup. She thanked him with a mock toast.
“Good to see my favorite detective back on the job,” she said.
“Not half as glad as I am. The real danger in police work? Desk duty. Death by paperwork.” Aiden mimicked hanging by a noose.
Eliza Bright assessed his frame. “How’s the shoulder?”
“Good as new.” He ended the line of questioning and turned to the reason they were there.
“What do we have?” she asked.
“Female late fifties. Looks like she was stabbed through the heart from behind. Owner of the diner called it in.” Aiden jerked his head toward the heavy steel door at his back. “Saw her when he was taking out the trash at closing.” He indicated the mid-range designer bag on the folding table. “Whoever killed her wasn’t trying to rob her or prevent her from being identified. Name’s Regina Phelps, New York driver’s license with a Manhattan address. There are also press credentials in there from a tech convention in Cincinnati last week.”
“I wonder what lured her to this enchanting corner of our fair city?” Dr. Bright asked.
“There’s a pack of smokes in there, too,” Aiden said.
Eliza nodded. “Why does a woman step into an alley?”
“Hey, Jimmy? You guys find a cigarette butt by the body?” Aiden asked.
“About a thousand so far, boss,” the crime scene tech replied.
Eliza pointed to the adjacent wall with her coffee cup. “Diner might be a good low-profile place to meet someone.”
Aiden walked out to the sidewalk and examined the front of the restaurant. “I was thinking along those lines.” He spotted a sign in the window. “Hey, Jimmy, why are we drinking liquid dog turd when this place claims the best coffee in town?”
“Opens at six,” Jimmy replied without looking up.
“Well, let’s have a look.” Eliza walked over to the body and began a cursory examination. “She’s been here at least a day. Lucky for us, that big storm they predicted Monday never materialized. The lack of snow and the cold did us a few favors.” Eliza lifted the back of Regina’s coat and blouse. “I can confirm your assessment of a stab wound as the likely COD. Single knife wound below the scapula. Likely severed the aorta. Your killer knows his anatomy. Help me turn her over.”
Together they gently turned the prone body face-up, and immediately Eliza Bright’s expression darkened. Aiden knew that look: two parallel wrinkles between her brows, lips pursed.
“What?” he asked.
“Aiden, this isn’t your primary crime scene. This body’s been moved.”
“What makes you say that? Lividity?” he asked.
“I’ll get to that in a minute, no. Her shoes are on the wrong feet.”
Aiden looked down at the corpse and, while the difference was subtle, it was clear the woman’s square-toed heels were on the opposite feet. “Whoever killed her dragged her here and lost her shoes in the process.”
Dr. Bright finished Aiden’s thought. “Went back to get them and jammed them on the wrong feet.”
“There’s no blood trail,” Aiden noted.
“There’s certainly not enough blood here. You think maybe a boyfriend or a husband stabbed her in one of these apartments, waited for her to bleed out, then moved her?” She waved toward the upper floors of the surrounding buildings.
“She’s an out-of-towner. Ran her info. She was on a Delta flight Sunday night. Uber dropped her off just after midnight. It’s possible the killer just pulled the body back from the entrance of the alley to avoid being seen.”
Aiden stared at the asphalt, a thought striking him. Grabbing Regina’s bag, he dumped the sparse contents on the portable card table, pushing items around with a pen. He walked to the body and checked her pockets. Eliza waited.