The Killing Room by Richard Montanari Page A

hospital corners. Next to the bed was a worn night-stand and lamp. At the foot of the bed was a dresser; next to it a low bookcase with what looked like five years’ worth of crossword magazines, the kind that feature number-seek puzzles. That was it. No paintings or photographs on the walls, no throw rugs, no decorations of any kind. Jessica had enough experience with drug-related homicides to know that Danny Palumbo did not maintain a space this clean and spare.
    She crossed the room, opened the drawers on the dresser. Inside she found a few old T-shirts, a pair of jeans. She checked the pockets. All empty. In the bottom drawer she found Danny Palumbo’s certificate from the police academy. It was unframed. Beyond this, there was no other clothing or accessories that indicated a police officer had ever occupied this room.
    Jessica crossed the room to the sole closet, opened the door. The space was empty. There weren’t even hangers on the rod,or anything stacked on the pair of shelves. Mounted on the inside of the closet door was an inexpensive full-length mirror. Jessica looked at her own warped reflection for a moment, thinking back to the day she had graduated from the academy, how proud her father had been. She wondered if Loretta Palumbo had felt the same way. She was sure of it. She wanted to be sure of it.
    Jessica closed the door and, just to be thorough, got down on her knees and looked under the bed and the dresser. The only thing she found was a pair of worn green corduroy slippers under the bed. She looked inside, found nothing. She arranged them precisely as she had found them, matching their position to the dust-formed silhouettes.
    She got up, walked back to the door, stepped into the hall. She was just about to close the door when something on the ceiling caught her eye. She glanced up.
    There, in front of the doors and the windows, burned into the plastered ceiling, were marks in the shape of a cross.
    When Jessica returned to the front room she found Byrne and the woman standing near the door.
    ‘Do you know any of Danny’s acquaintances?’ Byrne asked. ‘Someone we might talk to regarding his whereabouts for the past few weeks?’
    Loretta Palumbo thought about this. Whatever crossed her mind brought a look of distaste to her face. ‘He did bring a friend over a few times.’
    ‘Do you remember this friend’s name?’
    ‘He was dirty. I didn’t like him,’ she said. ‘I think Danny called him Boise, or something like that.’
    ‘Boise? Like the city in Idaho?’ Jessica asked.
    ‘I don’t know.’
    Jessica made the note.
    ‘He had the HIV, you know,’ Loretta Palumbo added. ‘They said he had the full AIDS a year ago, that maybe he didn’t have too long to live, but then he got better.’
    Jessica looked at Byrne. This meant two things, at least in the immediate sense. One, it opened up the possibility of this being some sort of hate crime, in addition to the motive having something to do with the time Danny Palumbo had been in uniform. Second, and more importantly, was that Jessica and Byrne had both been exposed to Danny Palumbo’s blood. They had been wearing gloves when they touched him, and they both disinfected at the scene, so they were 99% safe. Still, you never knew.
    ‘Your son was HIV-positive?’ Byrne asked.
    Loretta Palumbo nodded.
    ‘I know this next question is going to seem very personal, but it is something we have to ask,’ Byrne said. ‘Was Danny gay?’
    ‘No. He got it from the … you know …’
    ‘He got it from sharing a needle.’
    She didn’t answer. She didn’t need to.
    ‘Mrs Palumbo, do you have a cell phone?’ Byrne asked.
    ‘A cell phone?’
    ‘Yes, ma’am.’
    ‘No. I just have the regular.’ She pointed to the cordless phone on the wall near the kitchen door.
    ‘I left my phone in the car,’ Byrne said. ‘Would you mind if I used your phone? It’s a local call, and I won’t be on long.’
    ‘Not at all,’ she said.