Decker agreed. “Canvass the block. On your way back, Tom, check all the alley Dumpsters. We’ve got a gunshot wound, maybe we’ll find a gun. We’ve got multiple stab wounds, maybe someone chucked a bloody knife.”

Webster said, “Odd, Loo. We got gunshot and stab wounds.”

“Very.”

“Suggestive of more than one person?”

“Indeed.” Decker looked around. “This much blood spatter…maybe we’ll find more than one shoe print.”

Martinez said, “Or a bloody glove.”

“Man, you jest but somewhere there is a pile of bloody clothing begging to be tagged and filed. Be careful. And before you pick up anything to bag it, snap a picture. Anyone have a camera?”

“I got a thirty-five millimeter in my car,” Martinez said.

“Good,” Decker said. “If you got enough film, Bert, take a few pictures of the body for me.”

“Will do.”

“Y’always carry a camera, Bert?” Webster asked.

“The missus keeps one in the cars for spontaneous family shots,” Martinez answered. “I think I’ve got half a roll left over from our Labor Day picnic.”

Webster said, “Might be a good idea if you took that one in for developing, Bert. Separate the postmortems of Sparks from the family snapshots.”

“A very good idea,” Decker concurred. “Everyone be sure to cover your butt. It plays well on prime time.”

Martinez said, “Speaking of prime time, Loo, look who’s coming our way.”

Decker’s eyes strained in the darkness. Strapp with camera crews in tow.

“I’ll handle it.”

“Then we’re dismissed?” Webster said.

“Unless you want to talk to Strapp.”

Martinez waved good-bye. He and Webster headed down the alley, jogging away from Strapp.

Decker turned to Gaynor. “You stay here at the scene, wait for the ME and Forensics. Make sure no one…and I mean no one…screws up evidence. You watch them, Farrell, stand over their shoulders and direct if necessary. No screwups. Not while I’m in charge.”

“Where are you going, Loo?”

“I’m going to satisfy Strapp, and hopefully deflect the media. Get the field clear so my detectives can do their jobs. Then, I’m going to notify next of kin.”

Gaynor patted his back. “Brave man.”

Decker felt sick inside. “Someone has to take out the garbage.”

3

As the captain advanced with the television army, Decker held up his index finger indicating a minute. Strapp held out an open palm, telling the media troops to halt, and said something to a coiffed brunette in a teal-blue silk pants suit. She placed her hands on her hips, and shook her head defiantly. Strapp was not impressed and shot back a response, his face hard, his shoulders stiff. The brunette looked upward, threw up her hands, then went back to her underlings. Strapp approached Decker by himself. Gaynor stood back to guard the body, happy to be out of the picture.