I looked around for some place to wait out the arrival Finger’s mystery expert, but they didn't seem to be any room that wasn't painted red floor to ceiling, and this apartment didn’t have a balcony.

So I moved over to the kitchen counter. Leaning against the melamine, and watch the proceedings, thought about the forms I’d be filling out.

The one thing that caught my attention was that there was an awful lot of blood spread all over the apartment. I wondered if the police had thought about the volume as was well.

So, suddenly curious, I decided to take a bit of a look around.

If there was as much in the bathroom in the bedroom and in the closets and wherever the manner the spray can attach to his arteries could throw enough blood and looked like more than someone had in his body.

So I thought, what the hell, it's probably already been searched. Let's take a look in the fridge. So I went around the column, moved over to the refrigerator.

The fridge was also caked in its fair share of blood. I tried to spot a portion on the handle that wasn't spattered.

Tried to avoid messing up the crime scene, if it turned out to be one, I took a pen out of my pocket wedged between the handle and the surface, and popped it open.

I was relieved to see that it was empty, and there was no sign of any blood inside. Then I looked up the freezer.

There was a layer of frost over the contents, signs that there had been thing stacked in there. But I didn't see any blood either.

I decided to ask Fingers about my idea, and looked around. One of the crime scene guys told me he’d gone to the second bedroom, where there were still some pictures being taken.

“You guys checked the fridge didn't you.” I asked.

He turned back to me, nodded.

“Yet he said the crime scene guys took everything first thing in the morning before I got here.

“It looks like the freezer was full of something.” I told him. “They find anything in there.”

He shrugged, “I'll check with them. Why do you ask?”

“I don’t know,” I told him. “This all seems an awful lot of blood for just one person.”

“You’re professional opinion?”

I had seen what the blood of nearly a dozen people blood looked like splattered about, once, a long time ago.  But that had been strictly amateur, I had to admit.

“I guess it does look like more than just Billingsly could have done this.” I was deciding to be helpful. “In fact, you probably might want to get the blood from different parts of the place tested.”

Yeah, I know, I couldn’t believe what was coming out of my mouth.

But it had to have been more than one, from what I saw. It always was supposed to take more than one. Three maybe, seven, even thirteen once in a blue moon.

I was wondering how careful Billingsly had actually been. Garbage pickup was today. But not for a few hours.

The man who killed the Grappos had send their parts down the chute.

I mentioned that to Fingers, said his guys had better check it out.

He smiled.

“I knew bringing you down would be helpful.”

“Yeah,” I replied. “Just don’t tell anyone else, please.”

“Whatever you say.”

He nodded then went back to talking with the police photographer.

I went back to the kitchen, leaned against the counter again, berated myself.

I should have told him this was none of my business and spent the day handling calls like I was paid to. Or, I should have said nothing. Instead I practically shouted I knew what this was about.

And did I. Probably.

While I stared at the activity still going on around me, I wondered, was this it really ? Was it time to get the hell out? I’d thought about it three years ago, even though that killing turned out to be over a stupid coffee table.

I’d thought about it when Finger’s had brought his crazy grandfather over and the old man went totally gaga over my house of cards.

I’d even thought about it when my boss Peter had that heart attack and Emily offered me the old man’s job.

“You’ve been here five years,” she’d told me. “You were Peter’s assistant. You know the job, know the building, as well as anyone can. You don’t need to go anywhere.”

Damn if I wasn’t stupid enough to set down roots. Think I had put everything behind me.

I glanced back at the counter, and the blood that had been spread over it, followed the streaks. At the edges, the red spilled over between the cracks.

Shit, I thought. It all was going to need to be ripped out, totally replaced. Damned Billingsly’s bloody redecorating was just costing more and more.

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Go to Chapter 10

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