Page 8 of Done Dirty

Lieutenant Daniels was crouched in the doorway of 403 with a magnifying loupe. She wore tan BDUs and a navy KGSO polo, and her blond braids were pulled back in a long tail. Her CSI team was coming in and out of the condo.

She looked up as we approached. “Sheriff. Doc.” She stood and peeled off one glove. “This is a fun one. Vic is in the master bedroom. Hell of a mess. We’ve left it for you. I’ll bring the team in once you’re done.”

“What do you mean by a fun one?” I asked.

“Maybe interesting is the right word,” she said, shrugging. “You don’t see what’s in there that often. People are messed up.”

I knew what Daniels was trying to say. It’s not that she actually thought finding a dead body was fun for anyone involved. But when you deal with the dark side of death as often as we do, you start to see the same modes and patterns. And if Daniels thought the body was interesting, my curiosity was definitely piqued.

“Find anything?” Jack asked.

“Not much so far. Male victim. Ex-girlfriend and her friend are the ones who found the body. They’re downstairs. Building manager is in 401 if you want her. Jessica Contreras. She’s got the details on the victim.”

“Want to talk to her or look at the body first?” Jack asked.

“Let’s talk to her,” I said. “I want a picture going in. Especially if this is going to be interesting.” I arched a brow at Daniels.

“Heard you got a new lab, Doc,” she said.

“Something like that,” I said. “This will be my first homicide in my new space. Come visit some time.”

“You crazy?” She laughed hard enough that tears came to her eyes. “I don’t need a front row seat to your autopsy table. This is as close as I want to get. Besides, I heard you don’t have good ventilation.”

I sighed. This was true. “That’s just mean.”

She was still chuckling as Jack and I headed down to the door at the end of the hall.

Jessica Contreras answered the door of 401 before Jack finished knocking. She was mid to late thirties with dark hair pulled back in a sleek, high ponytail. Her black blazer was buttoned over a red-and-black polka-dot blouse and red capris. Nerves shone behind her eyes, but that wasn’t unusual when Jack and I showed up at someone’s door.

“Ms. Contreras?” Jack asked.

“Yes.” She stepped back to let us in. “Please, come in. I’ve been expecting someone to come by.”

Her voice had a little-girlish quality I found especially irritating.

The condo faced the park, and through the original factory windows I could see the fountain running, the iron benches along the path, and a dog walker cutting across the grass. The inside of her condo ran warm and personal—a gallery wall of framed botanical prints, a bookshelf packed with well-read books, and a deep-cushioned sofa in burnt orange with a cerulean throw folded across the arm. A glass of water sat full on the counter bar next to an open laptop, and a barstool was pulled out where she’d been sitting.

“I’m Sheriff Lawson, and this is Dr. Graves, our county coroner.”

She faltered at that announcement and looked at me quickly, emotion making her mouth quiver.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I just can’t believe this is real. Can I get you something? Coffee, water?”

She didn’t wait for us to answer, but set two mugs on the counter and filled both with coffee from the pot. She set cream and sugar on the kitchen table, so Jack and I took that as an invitation to sit down.

“You’re the building manager?” Jack asked.

“Since we opened,” she said. “Four years come October. My office is on the ground floor, but I live here, so I’m available around the clock. I decided to work from home this morning. This has never happened to me before. Someone dying here, I mean. We learn about procedures during training, but it’s not the same as it happening on your watch.” She wiped down the counter with a dish towel even though it didn’t need it.

“There’s nothing to be nervous about, Ms. Contreras,” Jack said. “Why don’t you sit down and answer a few questions for us, and then we’ll let you get back to work.”

She sighed with relief and said, “I’d appreciate that.” She took the chair across from us. “I manage a few other properties in the area as well, and it’s the beginning of the month. Things are always crazy when rent is due.” And then she remembered she’d left her own glass on the counter, so she got up and brought it back to the table. “I switched to water. I’ve already drunk a pot of coffee since the cops showed up. God, I can’t believe Wade is dead. He’s so young. So…vibrant.”

“Just to be clear, Wade is the owner in 403?” Jack asked.

“Yes, Wade Rivers. He’s lived here since the building opened. One of our original residents.” Something softened in her face when she said it. “He was an excellent resident. Quiet, respectful, never a noise complaint. Most of our residents purchase their units outright, and he’d opted to do that, so I didn’t handle his payments. But I assume he was up to date on everything. The HOA rules here are very strict.”

“Did you know him well?” Jack asked.