Chapter 4
The alley off of Fremont Street was dark, dingy and smelled bad. Detective Alex Vartann was waiting when Nick and Greg arrived.
"Hey, guys. David Phillips is finishing up at another scene and then will be on his way. At first blush, this one looks like love gone bad." He led the way around piles of garbage to a body beside a dumpster.
"Meet William Tennant."
Mr. Tennant was sprawled prone on the tarmac in a pool of blood, arms outstretched, pants and underwear down around his ankles, gunshot to his left temple. Nick looked closely at the injury.
"Small caliber weapon at close range. .22 maybe? Is there an exit wound?"
"Just an entrance, which would support your hypothesis. .22s often don't have enough force to exit the skull, but instead bounce around inside, lacerating the brain. And the blood splatter and blood pool suggests this is the crime scene."
"What was Mr. Tennant doing in this alley?"
Vartann indicated a doorway.
"That leads to Mr. Tennant's bar. This dumpster is where they empty their trash. According to the assistant manager, Tennant was here alone after closing last night, doing the books. The back door was unlocked. Either he let his assailant in and they moved it back here, or he was surprised in the alley when he took out the trash."
Greg looked around the filthy alley and met Nick's gaze, mutually acknowledging that they had a long night ahead of them.
"Okay, G. You want the body or the alley?"
"I'll start with the alley, thanks."
"Okay. I'll take the body then move in to the bar. Let's get to work."