free time.”
Ranger closed his computer and stood. “I want to see Skoogie’s office, and then I want to see the Snake Pit building. Let’s go for a ride.”
* * *
■ ■ ■
Ranger drove to the Hamilton Building and went directly to the underground garage entrance. He slid his keycard into the machine, and the gate rolled up.
“Luis didn’t know about the garage,” I said.
“He doesn’t have access. We don’t patrol the inside of the building or the garage.”
“But you have access.”
“I’m special,” Ranger said.
Ranger parked, and we took the elevator to the second floor. Morelli was still in Skoogie’s office when Ranger and I walked in.
“What have we got?” Ranger asked Morelli.
“Speculation until the autopsy. Blunt trauma to the back of the head. Fresh needle injection site on left arm. Time of death estimated to be seven-thirty A.M.”
“Could the head injury be the result of a fall?”
“The positioning is inconsistent with a fall, but it’s not completely ruled out.”
“So shortly after he arrived in his office he might have been knocked out and injected with something that killed him.”
“That’s the current thinking, but again, it’s conjecture. It could also be that he injected himself, had a catastrophic reaction, and fell.”
“What about the knife sticking out of his neck?” Ranger asked.
“He was actually stabbed several times. All postmortem.”
“Ranger ran the security video for me, and I recognized Victor Waggle,” I said to Morelli. “Waggle entered the building at eight-twenty this morning and left a half hour later. He looked angry. He kind of stormed in, waving his hands around and talking to himself.”
“I’ll send someone out to pick him up for questioning,” Morelli said.
Ranger and I exchanged glances.
“What?” Morelli said.
“He could be hard to find,” I said. “He hasn’t got an address.”
“This is the guy who stabbed those two people on State Street, right? He has a snake tattoo on his neck. It’s not like he’s unrecognizable.”
“True,” I said.
Ranger smiled.
“Do you mind if I look around?” he asked Morelli.
“Try not to trip over CSI.”
Ranger studied the photographs on the wall. He looked out the window. He looked at the desktop. Multi-line phone, desk clock engraved to the happy couple from Aunt Tootsie, and a couple pens. Ranger pulled on gloves and went through drawers and file cabinets. He examined the locks on the doors. He went back to Morelli.
“We’re heading out,” Ranger said. “I’ll send you a copy of the video.”
“Appreciate it,” Morelli said. “And remember she has a ten o’clock curfew.”
Another smile from Ranger.
We walked the hall and took the stairs to the garage.
“Is there a way to get into the garage without a keycard?” I asked.
“No.”
“So, we can assume the killer had a front door key or a keycard.”
“Yes, but there are a lot of them floating around. This isn’t a secure building. Some of the tenants prefer it that way. They can bring clients up through the garage after hours and no one knows.”
Ranger left the garage and drove the length of Stark Street. He idled in front of the Snake Pit building.
“You’ve been here,” he said.
“I was here with Lula and Hal.”
“Waggle gives this as his address. Is that possible?”
“It’s just a shell. And this is a scary part of Stark.”
Ranger pulled to the curb and parked. “Let’s take a look.”
I got out and stood away from the SUV. It was Ranger’s personal Porsche Cayenne. It looked and smelled new. It was black. It was immaculate. And with a tap on his remote it was electrified.
“On Thursdays and Fridays when they have music here, the street is closed off and there are food trucks and big searchlights. I don’t know how they power the lights,” I said.
“Let’s go inside.”
The inside had been swept clean. No left-behind drug paraphernalia, no empty beer bottles, no wasted snowflakes.
“That’s the stage at the far end?” Ranger asked.
“Yes. The bands enter and exit through the door on the left.”
We walked toward the stage, and there was a bloodcurdling shriek from the street.
“Jeez Louise,” I said. “What was that?”
“I imagine someone tried to steal the Porsche.”
“Will they be okay?”
“Probably. I didn’t have it set on lethal.”
Ranger went out the side door and looked at the area behind the building. He walked down the alley to the street.
The Porsche was still parked at the curb. No other car in sight. No Porsche stealers lurking. Ranger clicked the security system off, but I kept my distance.
“You first,” I said.
Ranger opened the door and got behind the wheel. I touched a finger to the SUV. I