Simantov by Asaf Ashery

Author:Asaf Ashery
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780857668509
Publisher: Watkins Media
Published: 2020-06-14T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Mazzy recognized the scene from afar: emergency crews and fire trucks with flashing lights that flickered through the morning fog. As she made her way among early risers and inquisitive neighbors, two ambulances came from opposite directions. Two Search and Rescue volunteers were dragging a sealed black bag to a police car.

Whatever awaited her there was serious enough to put her own problems on hold.

As she entered the cordoned-off area, someone with the white epaulettes of a police cadet and carrying a red StickLight demanded identification. She smiled and patted his shoulder gently. When she gave him her name, he apologized.

“They’re waiting for you there,” he gestured toward the greenhouse. Mazzy spotted the white tent that Doron and his team had set up, and her partner’s silhouette inside. When she opened the zipper, she realized that Crime Lab had set up so many spotlights, the greenhouse was flooded with artificial daylight. Daylight and unbearable heat.

Beads of perspiration glistened on Yariv’s forehead and dark circles stained his armpits. Mazzy jumped right in.

“What’s going on?”

Before Yariv could answer, his phone rang.

“Constant visual contact? He was there all the time? Not even for five minutes? Okay, stay with him. Give me a buzz if he so much as takes out the garbage.”

He pocketed the phone, and swung his attention to Mazzy.

“That was the officer tailing Almadon, we might not like the look of him but he wasn’t anywhere near here.”

Mazzy felt her shoulders drop.

“Libby,” Yariv called out, “fill the inspector in.”

Libby hurried to Mazzy with a pad full of notes written in a rounded curly hand. Mazzy hated frills of any kind. But she reminded herself that Libby was new to this, and still had to learn not to take things personally. Not just because scenes like this one would become routine, but because all the men around expected her to stumble, so she mustn’t provide them with ammunition.

“The owner of the house, Professor Abigail Odem, is missing. We assume she was the target.”

“Professor of what?”

“Jewish studies. The last phone call she made was to her research assistant. She told her that the messenger had delivered the material. The delivery service confirmed that their guy had been here at noon. He was the last person to see her. Well, of those who survived. Yesterday morning, she called in sick. We woke up her secretary, who told us the professor hadn’t missed a day of work in years…”

“Hang on a sec. What do you mean ‘of those who survived?’”

“Professor Odem’s house was well guarded. The messenger told us he saw a whole team of female security personnel. Some were quite good looking, in his opinion. The yard was full of wires, cables, cameras, and footprints of the guards. No one survived to tell the tale. There were bodies strewn all over, but no sign of the professor. It’s as if something came from the sky and whisked her away.”

Mazzy nodded to indicate that she had enough information for now, and moved deeper into

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