The police had besieged the entire east-domiciled apartment building in droves. The second time in the week. The second in the day.
The interior of number forty-three was concentrated by three officers from the investigation department, two forensics, and four private policemen. One of the high-ranking elements, with a lean, chipped face, gazed at Tobi's inert body as one gazing at a piece of rotten meat.
"There are no fingerprints, other than those of the deceased, Morino," one of the officers snapped. "He handgun, but the impact was only on the lower limb"
Morino, with both hands covered in the regulatory latex texture of the exam gloves, scanned the body garments.
Empty pockets, except for some personal effects. Not a receipt, document, or printed data. He looked up directly at the
