The Fixer by Woods T E

Author:Woods, T E [Woods, T E]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery & Detective / General
Published: 2012-05-17T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Five

“I’m having a déjà vu experience, Mort.” Jim DeVilla, Chief of Forensics for the Seattle Police Department, stood in Walter Buchner’s kitchen as his team searched the crime scene for the second time in nine days. “You got anything in mind or are we just fishing?” Jim scratched the ears of the eighty-five pound German Shepherd sitting beside him.

Mort opened the freezer and eyed the contents. He pulled out a half-eaten container of ice cream and frowned. “Man, wouldn’t it be easy if we found a ball of cash or two inches of blow instead of half a pint of Cherry Garcia?” He slammed the freezer door shut. “There’s got to be something.”

De Villa called out to the two women re-dusting the living room for prints. “You hear that? We highly-paid investigative types will continue to stand here with our thumbs up our asses while you diligent forensic officers re-do what you did last week. Make sure to give us a shout if you run across, wait a minute.” He turned toward Mort. “What was it you said you were looking for, Detective? Oh, that’s right. ‘Something’. Officers, make sure you let us know if you find ‘something’.”

The two women responded with stifled grins. Mort walked past them into Buchner’s bedroom. De Villa followed, his canine shadow matching step-for-step. They stood at the foot of the unmade bed. Mort, hands on hips, surveyed the room while De Villa rocked on his heels and Bruiser sat at attention.

“We’re missing it, Jimmy. Buchner was Joe Average. No record. No tickets. Look at this place. It’s a dump. The only thing worth stealing is his laptop and that fancy recording gear in the front room.”

De Villa flipped through his notebook. “Buchner was a research geek in audiology. According to his co-workers, he was working on something to do with voice synthesizing. Cutting edge stuff and all that bullshit.” De Villa closed his notebook and slipped it back into his pocket. “That’s what the world needs. More talking.” De Villa reached down and tousled the shepherd’s rough fur around the scar from a bullet that had ripped apart Bruiser’s throat when he leaped in front of an undercover cop to save him from a drug dealer’s deadly intent. “Maybe we could hook you up, huh, Buddy? I sure would love to hear you bark again.” De Villa looked up at Mort. “University wants to know when they can pick the stuff up. I guess it’s worth more than you and I make in any given year combined.”

“That’s just it.” Mort turned to the man he’d trusted with evidence for more than a quarter century. “That fancy tape recorder’s still here.”

“Voice synthesizer,” De Villa said.

“What-the-fuck-ever. It’s here, not in some pawn shop. No forced entry. Nothing gone.” Mort took another look around Buchner’s room. “But Average Joes don’t get their faces blown off. You get anything off his background?”

De Villa shrugged. “Hard working boy genius type. Paid enough to live in this palatial splendor. A little more than two hundred in his savings account.

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