Chapter Eighty Three
A crowd of about a hundred people, mostly black and Hispanic gathered across the street from Mal’s loft. Along with some diligent cops, only the spool of yellow crime scene tape wrapped around the front of the building and perimeter kept the rubber necking locals at bay.
The heavy rain had passed only to be replaced by a biting, icy drizzle, which had no effect on quieting the buzzing crowd at all.
Three Las Vegas box ambulances were parked near the front entrance and a dozen uniformed cops, as well as a half a dozen or so plain clothes police officers were milling around, chatting and pointing this way and that way.
Along with them were the usual, various coroners and CSI kids, who in their yellow parkas were scurrying in and out of the loft, as red and blue light
