Faye Kellerman - The Burnt House

“Your Honor, there is a very likely chance that Mr. Dresden may have destroyed or misplaced the evidence.”

“Then shame on him! He lives in the twenty-first century, he knows better than to tamper with something like that. If that’s the case, then I’ll also allow your team to search the condo, but I’m putting limits on it, Lieutenant. Don’t even bother with printing, fibers, hairs, or even minor blood seepage. The woman lived there; you’re going to find all of the above. What I’ll allow you to search for is evidence of blood loss and spatter patterns that is beyond and/or defies a reasonable amount of blood loss typical for a household injury. I have no problem with your bringing out your blood-spatter experts. Just don’t make too big of a mess, all right?”

“We’ll do our best. Thank you, Your Honor.”

She spoke as she wrote out the warrant. “One word of caveat. If you or your experts find a large amount of blood loss on a cushion of a couch or a chair, or on the bed, without any concomitant spatter to go with it, please proceed with caution. Men tend to forget that we women sometimes leak during our periods. You don’t want to arrest the man because Roseanne wore a faulty Tampex.”

A STRONG SERIES OF raps on the front door produced the wanted voice on the other side. Decker said, “Police, Mr. Dresden, open up.” When no immediate response was forthcoming, he said, “We have a warrant, sir. Open the door now!”

A couple of seconds later Decker heard the dead bolt sliding, but the door remained shut.

The voice said, “I need to see the warrant!”

“I can show it to you as soon as you open the door.”

“And if I don’t, what are you going to do? Break down the door?”

“There’s no need for drama, Mr. Dresden. We have…” Decker rolled his eyes at Marge and Oliver. “We’re here to seize the phone that Detective Sergeant Marge Dunn found by accident a few days ago. That phone is described very specifically in the papers.”

The door flew open. Dresden caught it before the doorknob punched a hole in his interior wall. He narrowed his eyes when he saw Decker. “Who’re you?”

Out came the identification. Dresden studied the credentials as Decker studied the stockbroker. Ivan was a good-looking man in that dark, brooding, Gothic fashion. He wore a muscle shirt and a pair of gym shorts and had a towel around his neck. His face was dry, without a hint of flushing: the workout had yet to occur, or it had occurred a long time ago, or it never occurred at all. He certainly spent more time than necessary on confirming that Decker was who he said he was.

“You have nothing better to do than harass me after I just got home from work?”

“Serving a warrant works out better when you’re home, Mr. Dresden.”

The stockbroker scowled. “Let me see that warrant.”

Handing him the paperwork, Decker was stone-faced as Dresden slowly made his way through the legalese. It wasn’t that complicated.

Dresden slapped the warrant into an open palm. “I told your two lackeys over there, it was an old phone. It’s gone. I threw it away. You wasted your time, but I suppose that being on the government dole, that doesn’t matter much to you.”

Decker’s face was flat. “The warrant states that we can look for it.”

“And mess up my apartment?” Dresden’s chuckle was sarcastic. “No thank you, I’ll pass.”

At this point, Decker had had enough. He bullied his way past Dresden, careful not to knock him on the shoulder. “You don’t have any choice, Mr. Dresden. We’re here to do a job and that’s what we’re going to do.” He stood in the center of the condo’s living room and began to glove up.

Marge and Oliver followed. She said, “If you have the phone, Ivan, make it easier on all of us and just fork it over.”

“Didn’t you hear what I just told you?” Dresden screamed out. “I threw the phone away!”

Decker spoke to his detectives. “Dunn, you take the kitchen; Oliver, you handle the bedrooms; and I’ll do the living room.” His eyes returned to Dresden. “We’re not going away. This warrant says that if we don’t find the phone, then we’re allowed to bring in our blood experts and start looking for evidence of a crime. And that’ll take up even more time. So make yourself comfortable and let us do our job.”

“This is totally absurd-”

“If you have the phone, now’s the time to make your move.”

“I don’t have the fucking phone!” Dresden growled. “I threw it away…what’s the fucking use! I’m calling my lawyer!”

“Whatever you need to do, sir.” Decker took out his cell and connected to the techs. “It’s Lieutenant Decker from West Valley, I’m looking for Mike Fagen…sure I’ll hold.”

“Who’s your captain?” Dresden shouted.

Decker said, “Are you talking to me?”

“Yes, I’m talking to-”

“Hold on a minute,” Decker said to Dresden. “Mike, it’s Lieutenant Decker. It looks like we’re going to need you because Mr. Dresden has admitted throwing the phone away. When do you think you’ll start spraying?”

“Spraying?” Dresden was aghast. “Spraying for what!”

“Hold on a sec, Mike, I can’t have two conversations at once and Dresden’s antsy.” Decker threw a hand over the mouthpiece of the mobile. “My superior is Captain Strapp. If we don’t find the phone, we’re going to spray for blood and blood spatter. Don’t worry about your carpet. It only glows bright blue if there’s blood protein. Otherwise nothing will show up.” He spoke into the mobile. “Sorry, Mike. When can you make it over here?”

“I don’t believe this!” Dresden ranted as he paced back and forth. “I’m still grieving for my wife and you have the nerve to barge in and accuse me of mur-”

Dresden stopped himself and turned away. His face hadn’t been flushed before, but it certainly was now-fire-engine red and bathed in sweat. He now looked as if he had completed that strenuous workout. Decker often wondered about the exact purpose of exercise. If it was just to elevate the heart rate, there were lots of other ways to do that without spending mind-numbing hours killing one’s feet on a treadmill: sex, stress, and caffeine instantly came to mind.

“If you break or ruin anything in my home, I’ll sue your ass off!” Dresden cried out. “You have no right to…what the fuck is that!” Dresden was responding to noises emanating from one of the bedrooms. He stomped down the hallway and Decker could hear him venting his spleen at Oliver.

After completing his phone call to the tech, Decker took a few moments to get the layout of the room and decide how he wanted to organize the search. Dresden was probably telling the truth when he’d said he threw the phone away. If there was something incriminating on it, he’d dump it without thinking. Yet there were those occasional perpetrators of violent crime who retained damning evidence. Some of the criminals were too arrogant or too lazy to bother chucking the offending article, but others kept indicting evidence as a memento; something that allowed their warped minds to visit and revisit the crime over and over.

The component that occupied the most space in the living room was a stark white entertainment unit complete with drawers, cabinets, and shelving-almost a quaint nod to yesterday’s technology because nowadays so many families were buying flat-screens. It appeared that Ivan hadn’t moved up yet. Maybe that was the first thing on his agenda as soon as he got the insurance money.

Dresden’s white elephant unit contained a big bulky TV behind pocket doors and lots of shelves on either side of the screen. One side was taken up by DVDs, CDs, and stereo components; the other side held a row of books, another row of CDs, and a lone shelf devoted to curios and pictures: six silver-framed photographs, all of them showing Ivan in various poses of physical prowess. The only hint that a woman had once lived there were several scattered scented candles and a small collection of porcelain cats.