The Mephisto Club

“I’m with the Chenango County Sheriff’s Office.” He glanced at Jane, who was coming down the porch steps to meet him. “You’re Rizzoli?”
    “Yeah. We just got here a few minutes…” Jane stopped, her gaze suddenly freezing on the black Mercedes, on the man who had just stepped out of it. “What the hell is
he
doing here?”
    “He predicted you’d react that way,” said Jurevich.
    Anthony Sansone strode toward them, black coat flapping in the wind. He nodded to Jane, a curt greeting that acknowledged the obvious: that she did not welcome him. Then his gaze fixed on Maura. “You’ve already seen the body?”
    She nodded. “Last night.”
    “Do you think we’re dealing with the same killer?”
    “What’s with this word
we
?” Jane cut in. “I wasn’t aware you worked in law enforcement, Mr. Sansone.”
    Unruffled, he turned to face her. “I won’t get in your way.”
    “This is a crime scene. You shouldn’t even be here.”
    “I don’t believe Chenango County is in your jurisdiction. This is up to Detective Jurevich.”
    Jane looked at Jurevich. “You’re giving him access?”
    Jurevich gave a shrug. “Our crime scene unit’s already processed this house. There’s no reason he can’t walk through it with us.”
    “So now it’s a public tour.”
    “This has been cleared through the sheriff’s office, by special request.”
    “Whose request?”
    Jurevich glanced at Sansone, whose face revealed nothing.
    “We’re wasting time out here,” said Sansone. “I’m sure we’d all like to get out of this wind.”
    “Detective?” pressed Jane.
    “If you have any objections,” said Jurevich, clearly unhappy at being caught in the middle, “you can take it up with the Department of Justice. Now, why don’t we get inside before we all freeze?” He climbed the steps to the porch, with Sansone right behind him.
    Jane stared after them and said softly, “What’s his pull, anyway?”
    “Maybe you should just ask him,” said Maura, and she started up the steps. Jurevich had already unlocked the front door, and she followed the men into the house. Inside, she found it scarcely warmer, but at least they were now sheltered from the wind. Jane came in behind her and closed the door. After the glare of the snow, it took a moment for Maura’s eyes to adjust to the interior gloom. Looking through a doorway into the front parlor, she saw sheet-draped furniture and the dull gleam of wood floors. Pale winter light shone in through the windows, casting the room in shades of gray.
    Jurevich pointed to the bottom of the stairs. “You can’t see them, but Luminol turned up lots of bloody smears on these steps and in this foyer. Looks like he wiped up after himself as he left the house, so any footwear evidence is pretty indistinct.”
    “You went over the whole house with Luminol?” asked Jane.
    “Luminol, UV, alternate light source. We checked every room. There’s a kitchen and dining room through that doorway. And a study beyond the parlor. Except for the shoe prints here in the foyer, nothing very interesting turned up on the first floor.” He faced the stairway. “All the action took place upstairs.”
    “You said this house was vacant,” said Sansone. “How did the killer get in? Was there any sign of forced entry?”
    “No, sir. Windows were shut tight. And the realtor swears she always locks the front door when she leaves.”
    “Who has a key?”
    “Well, she does. And she says it never leaves her office.”
    “How old is the lock?”
    “Ah, geez, I don’t know. It’s probably twenty years old.”
    “I assume the owner has a key, too.”
    “She hasn’t been back to Purity in years. I hear she’s living somewhere in Europe. We haven’t been able to reach her.” Jurevich nodded at the sheet-draped furniture. “There’s a thick layer of dust on everything. You can see no one’s lived here for a while. Damn shame, too. A house this solidly built was meant to last a century, and this one just sits here empty. The caretaker comes up once a month to check on it. That’s how he found the body. He saw Sarah Parmley’s rental car parked out front, and then he found the front door unlocked.”
    “Have you checked out the caretaker?” asked Jane.
    “He’s not a suspect.”
    “Why not?”
    “Well, to start off with, he’s seventy-one years old. And he just got out of the hospital three weeks ago. Prostate surgery.” Jurevich looked at Sansone. “See what men