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"Sorry, Detective, but I need you"

• • •

IT TOOK THE PORSCHE only sevenat 322 Willard Avenue Sherlock had put Mr Maitland on speakerphone on the way, and he’d nearly flatlined at the news, and finally said he would notify Mr August Biaggini "Keep him away from his son’s apartment, sir, please," Sherlock said

"Yes, I will I’ll call Director Mueller, too Guys, this can’t be happening Three kids are dead, three proini was behind To hard at hiot to put a stop to it, Savich"

There were four cop cars with their running lights on in front of the apart, and two plain Crown Vics A dozen people were alreadyon Savich pulled in behind Detective Moffett’s big black SUV He ht upon entering Peter Biaggini’s apartment was that Daddy must have laid out a bundle for this place--it was spacious, lots of s There was a single posh brass nuh it, you entered a large entryway that seee s that had to eous wooden floors led your eyes to a kitchen out of the next century

They heard sobbing fro room, but didn’t stop there They walked to the master bedroom at the end of a wide hallway The three cops near the doorway stepped aside Detective Moffett said, "Not a pretty sight"

Peter Biaggini, twenty-two years old, lay sprawled on the floor at the foot of his king-size bed, on his back, his head and face a ray leather easy chair, had even spewed in an arc high on the bedrooreen cashmere sweater was soaked in his own blood, his blue jeans streaked with it, even down to his black sneakers His bloodied cell phone lay on the rug next to his arhly polished old Bren Ten

She looked up at Moffett "The murder weapon and the killer left it beside hi it here shly unlikely"

Moffett said, "You’d better believe the killer wiped off the prints, and you can bet there’ll be no registration It looks old, maybe 1970s We’ll check it out"

Savich said, "I wonder why the killer didn’t take the pistol and dump it in the Potoini’s body, fighting sadness and regret, trying to focus She felt a moment of nausea, sed several tiainst his cheek or his forehead to see hoarm he was, but he didn’t have a cheek There was so much blood in a hu the sticky wet of his blood She said, trying her best to keep her voice flat, "He’s still quite warot here When the doorbell buzzed I’ll bet Peter thought it was Melissa, so he opened the door without checking, or else he knew the person who killed hi he turned and ran, but his killer was right behind him He would have slammed the bedroom door, locked it? Dillon, could you see if the door’s been daed?"

Savich said, "There’s no lock on the bedroom door, no need to shoot it open or slam into it The killer opened it, and Peter turned to face him, his cell phone in his hand, only he didn’t have time to call 911" Savich leaned down, carefully picked up the black cell phone beside Peter Biaggini’s right hand to check his calls

Sherlock sat back on her heels, careful not to touch anything else She looked around her "When the door flew open, Peter looked at his killer,for his life, but it didn’t matter, his killer shot him twice in the head froot to her feet, stared down at Peter Biaggini "What a waste, what a horrible waste" And she thought, Peter, you poked at the wrong lion this time This lion wasn’t twenty years old He didn’t run away; no, this lion ate you

Savich said, "His last call was to Melissa Ivy forty-five et Ollie started on the rest of this call history"

Sherlock stared around the room "Peter’s death--it makes no sense We have to start fresh, Dillon, look at all our assumptions Tommy, Stony, and Peter--they were friends most of their short lives They had to be involved in soerous than they kneith people they shouldn’t have been" She looked down once ini "They were in over their heads"