Chapter 42
ONE OF the advantages of having a partner detective is that you have someone to grouse to. I couldn’t even drink a beer without finding a murderer or having a lapsed drug pusher scream for help. I set the half-finished Stroh’s on the bar, told the girls to stay with Eric, and followed Ian Reamer’s truck screeching through the empty streets back to his mom’s flat.
The two-story home still looked soft, the brick walls starting to sag and curve around dissolving mortar, but someone had punched the ragged wire screen out of the front storm door, presumably so they could reach through and flip the flimsy latch. I followed Reamer through the front hall. The worn living room had been tidy a couple hours ago, but someone had just used it for a demolition derby. The couch had been shov
