I'll probably edit the name later...
"Kellie Holcombe, worked for the Alford family. A maid or housekeeper of some sort in that mansion uphill. Heard she was winding down her days there, that they weren't gonna keep a nanny or whatever around any more. And now she's here."
"So what's the official story right now?"
"Murder. By explosion. Shouldn't that be obvious?"
"I mean beyond that."
"Well, they don't think it was premeditated, if that's what you mean. Just the wrong place at the way wrong freaking time."
"But you're not buying it, Sullivan."
"Nah, suh, Mistah Velo. She done tell me something was up a coupla days ago," Sullivan paused for a moment. "Told me Friday, died Sunday, Wednesday in the ground."
Velo looked back at Sullivan. "What was that?"
"Just something from my man T.I. is all," Sullivan replied softly. "My reactions to these things tend to be in lyrics and poems. Like that old Solomon Grundy nursery rhyme? Ill on a Thursday and all of that. I think of that one a lot."
Velo grunted absently. He took two steps back from the wall he was inspecting. On and around the wall--the side of an apartment building, in an ordinary alley--were what remained of Kellie Holcombe. "What'd she tell you?"
"Nothing incriminating. Thinking that she might be in over her head, and wasn't sure if she knew something she shouldn't have. Wouldn't tell me shit, though."
"Is that what you're going on? To suspect foul play, I mean. Or is there more?"
"That's it. Unless you think it's relevant that I've always felt the Alfords were too shifty for their own damn good. Something about them never sat right with me."
Velo took another step back and was already up against the opposite alley wall. "Cramped place for an elaborate murder, wouldn't you agree?"
"I didn't say it made sense," Sullivan half-smiled. "I just said I didn't buy the 'wrong place at the wrong time' theory. I won't pretend that Baltimore's a safe place, but we don't generally have bombs going off unless they're intended to."
"If that's all you have to stand on, the department's in the right to ignore you and file this away."
"Great. So you think I'm just grasping at straws here, too?"
"No. You're just on the wrong path. The Alfords didn't kill Ms. Holcombe by exploding her, because the explosion didn't kill her."
Sullivan rolled his eyes. "Fuck you, Velo, don't jerk me around if you know something. What do you got?"
Velo pointed to a spot on the wall. "That didn't stand out to you?"
Sullivan looked. "It's burned flesh. There's a lot of it around us, in case you haven't noticed. You're almost stepping in some."
"If you're going to expect people to believe conspiracy theories, you need to take notice of details like this. All of the flesh and skin is at an angle suggesting that Ms. Holcombe was standing here--" Velo took a step forward, "--when the bomb went off. All, that is, except that little bit right there." Velo pointed again to the spot on the wall, a piece of flesh about the size and shape of an index finger.
"Okay, I understand that part," Sullivan nodded. "Now's the part where you tell me why that's important."
"It's all angles," Velo took a step back again, and directed Sullivan to stand in front of him. "Ms. Holcombe's standing there, bomb goes off, there's no way that a part of her ends up on the wall at that angle. The angle would suggest moreso a projectile, going downward--" Velo went through the motions as he described them--"right through her, and ending at the wall here. And it happened before the bomb exploded."
"So somebody shot her?" Sullivan asked, mind racing. "Okay then, one of the Alfords could have lured her here, shot her point blank, then set off the bomb, so there'd be too little left to determine the real cause of death!"
"The second part of what you said is correct," Kristogar began slowly. "That's the reason for the bomb. However, the only way she could have been shot, standing there, in this narrow alley, at that angle, is if one of the Alfords happened to be 12 feet tall. Are they?"
"No," Sullivan responded dejectedly. "I mean, unless they're metas, but I doubt that. So it had to be somebody else? But how?"
"Not necessarily. I'd say the shot probably came from up there," Velo gestured up the alley wall. "Lots of windows to choose from. To get the angle we need, I'd narrow the options down to..." Velo's eyes scanned and surveyed the wall a couple of times in silence while Sullivan waited impatiently. "Three. Interrogate the people in the middle windows on the third and fourth floor, and the far window on the fifth. If it's not one of those three, then my physics are more out of practice than I realize."
"So why haven't you cured cancer yet, Velo?" Sullivan asked half-smiling. "Is there anything I can do? You know, so it at least looks like I know what I'm doing?"
"Get this piece examined. It's not just at a different angle...I think it might be a different person. This isn't Kellie Holcombe on the wall right there...it's the bullet that killed her."
Sullivan heaved an angry sigh. "Now you've lost me for good. If that isn't her flesh, then who the fuck could it possibly be?"
"Make sure to get Gillpatrick and only Gillpatrick to examine it. I could be way off, but if I'm not, he's the only one we can trust," Velo stated this carefully as he continued to stare at the mystery piece on the wall. He slowly started to back out of the alley before finally taking his eyes off, turning around, and leaving Sullivan in the dark of the alley.
