“It would take a cool hand to root around in an alley looking for a slug while a dead body is sitting a few feet away.”
“I agree. But again, the bullet may still be found.”
“I understand his wallet was missing.”
“Let’s put it another way. No wallet was found on him. Was he in the habit of not carrying one?”
Fiske looked away for an instant. “We haven’t seen each other much the last few years, but I think you can assume he was carrying a wallet. So you didn’t find it in his apartment?”
“Give me a little slack, John. Your brother’s body was only found yesterday.” Chandler opened his notebook and picked up a pen. “The alley where he was found is a high-use drug area, among other things. To your knowledge was he a drug user? Casual or otherwise?”
“No. He was not a drug user.”
“But you can’t be sure, can you? You just said you hadn’t seen much of each other. Right?”
“My brother set the highest goals for himself with everything he did, and then he surpassed those goals. Drugs did not enter into that equation.”
“Any idea why he would’ve been in that area?”
“No, but he could have been kidnapped somewhere else and driven there.”
“Any reason why someone would want him dead?”
“I can’t think of a one.”
“No enemies? Jealous boyfriends? Money problems?”
“No. But again I’m probably not the best source for that. Do you have a prelim on the time of death?”
“Pretty vague. I’m waiting on the official word. Why?”
“I just came from the morgue. I felt my brother’s hand. It was soft, supple. Rigor had long since passed. What was the condition of the body when it was found last night?”
“Let’s just say he had been there awhile.”
“That’s surprising. From what you said, it’s not an isolated area.”
“True, but in that area dead bodies in alleys aren’t all that uncommon. Then again, about ninety-nine percent of the homicides in that area involve black victims for the very simple fact that whites just don’t frequent the place.”
“So my brother should have stood out, you’re saying. Any ATM withdrawals? Credit card purchases?”
“We’re checking all that. When did you last speak with your brother?”
“He called me over a week ago.”
“What’d he say?”
“I wasn’t in. He left a message. Said he needed my advice on something.”
“Did you call him back?”
“Not until recently.”
“Why’d you wait?”
“It wasn’t high on my priority list.”
“Is that right?” Chandler twirled his pen between his fingers. “Tell me something. Did you even like your brother?”
Fiske looked at him squarely. “Somebody killed my brother. I want to catch whoever did it. And that’s really all I’m going to say about it.”
The look in Fiske’s eyes made Chandler decide to move on. “Maybe he wanted to talk about something to do with work? See, what makes this case intriguing is your brother’s occupation.”
“Meaning, is his murder related to something at the Supreme Court?”
“It’s a long shot, absolutely, but what you just told me about your brother’s phone call might just make it slightly less of a long shot than it seemed a minute ago.”
“I doubt if he wanted my two cents on the latest abortion case.”
“Then what? How to pick up women?”
“You must not have seen a picture of him. He never needed help with that one.”
“I have seen a picture of him, but the dead don’t photograph all that well. But he said he wanted some advice. Maybe it was legal.”
“Well, you can always make a trip to the Court to see if there are any conspiracies going on up there.”
“We have to tread lightly, you know.”
“We?”
“I’m sure your brother has personal effects there, and it would not be unusual for next of kin to visit his place of work. I’m assuming you’ve been there before?”
“Once, when Mike first started. My dad and I.”
“And your mother?”
“Alzheimer’s.”
“Sorry to hear that.”
“Any other developments?”
In answer, Chandler rose, took down his jacket from a hanger on the back of the door and slipped it on. “I’d like to take you down to your brother’s car.”