sort of froze for a minute at first, you know? And no, I mean, his eyes . . . they . . .” She shook her head and for a minute Reed thought she might cry. But she pulled her shoulders up and continued. “With his eyes . . . missing, and the black stuff on his face, it’s hard to tell, but offhand, no, I didn’t recognize him. We have a guy who works in the garage doing maintenance and whatnot, but he’s an Indian man named Arjun.”
Reed could agree the man propped against the wall was not Indian. Still, they’d have to come back with a photo from the coroner once the victim was cleaned up just to be safe, but he didn’t tell Sabrina McPhee that right then.
“Have you seen anything strange in your building or the parking garage in the last few weeks that might stand out as suspicious now?”
She shook her head. “Nothing.” Her eyes darted over to where the body was. “God, how will I ever come down here again? It’s like someone left that body just for me. Who would do that, detectives?” She looked back and forth between them.
“Reed!”
Reed startled, turning when he saw Daphne Dumont jogging toward him, her heels click-clacking on the concrete. She looked behind her several times before she made it to him, as if checking to see if anyone was after her. She’d obviously somehow slipped past the officers guarding the entry.
Great.
“Daphne, you’re not supposed to be in here. This is a crime scene.”
“I know, I know,” she said breathlessly, flipping her blonde hair back. Daphne Dumont was a newscaster for one of the local networks. She was tenacious and single-minded when it came to tracking a story, though not without morals. Reed liked her. He’d even dated her for a few months a year or so before but it hadn’t gone anywhere. He’d found himself feeling more obligated than excited to call her and had broken it off. She’d been annoyed, and—he knew—hurt, but they’d moved on and had a good rapport now. “I saw you and slipped around the barrier. I didn’t think you’d mind. Can you give me any information about what’s going on here? Rumor has it—”
“Excuse me,” he said to Sabrina McPhee as he led Daphne away and nodded at Ransom to wrap up the interview. When he had her a few feet away by a large, square column, he said, “This is a serious situation, Daphne. There’s been a murder, and we can’t have you compromising the crime scene.”
“I wouldn’t do that, Reed. You know me.” She craned her neck over his shoulder but he stepped to the side, blocking her view of where several criminalists now worked around the DOA. She shot him an irritated glance. “Rumor has it there might be a serial killer on the loose in Cincinnati.”
“Where’d you hear this rumor?”
She flipped her hair again, bringing her chin up. “I can’t reveal my sources. Suffice it to say, I have other connections in the CPD, Reed. More than one, in fact.” She narrowed her eyes slightly and smirked at him. Her expression and the way she said it made him suspect the statement had been meant to make him jealous, but the only thing Reed felt was annoyance.
“Listen, I don’t have a statement right now. All I can tell you is that there’s been a murder and we’re investigating. Now you’ll need to leave so I can get back to work.”
“Fine,” she mumbled, chewing at her glossy lip. She glanced off to the side and then back at him. “Listen, if you want to get a cup of coffee sometime, call me, okay? We were both really busy last year, and maybe the timing wasn’t right, but I feel like we had a good thing.”
Shit. “Listen . . . Daphne, I’m really up to my eyeballs in work right now.” He suppressed a grimace at his own inopportune wording. Also, Christ, there was a dead man lying a few feet from where they stood.
“You don’t even have time for a cup of coffee?”
He pressed his lips together. He didn’t want to be unkind, but he didn’t want to lead her on either. “No. I’m sorry.”
Her face fell slightly, but she nodded. “I get it. I’ll get out of your hair. Hey, if you do have a statement, call me first, okay?”
“I will. I promise.”
She smiled, that light-up-the-screen grin she was known for. “Great. See ya.”