Page 154 - Labelle Gramercy, Detective

Slow Burn

“Until recently, when a systematic study of such cases was made in
Europe, it was believed that human beings possessed the capacity of
suddenly bursting into flame and dying. Divine intervention was
usually cited, the sinner being struck down with a lightning bolt out
of the blue; even today the phenomenon, despite its extreme
infrequency, persists in the folklore of many countries as a normal
manifestation of natural law. Had it not been for modern occurrences
of ‘spontaneous combustion,’ we would still be wondering about it.”
“Oh.” She had unquestionably read a few more books than I had.
She was a few years older, after all.
Further discussion was interrupted by our arrival at the reported
address. A middle-aged woman was sitting on the stairs leading up to
the lobby. Her face was ashen.
We approached her. “Elsa Gundo?”
She looked at us blankly. “Yes. That’s me.”
“I’m Lt. Gramercy and this is Sgt. Donat. Let’s go inside and talk,
if you don’t mind.”
The woman had a key to the lobby door. She mutely led us
through it toward a flight of stairs. As we passed Apartment 1, its
door opened and a gray-haired woman poked her head out and
regarded us sourly. Then she popped back inside and slammed the
door.
“It’s up there, Apartment 5,” said the cleaning lady. “Do I have to
go back in again?”
“Did you touch the body?” asked Labelle.
“No.”
“Is the body in the kitchen?”
“Yes.
“Did you touch anything in the kitchen?”
“No.”
“Was the apartment door locked when you arrived?”
“Yes.”
“All right, then. Please give me the keys. Thank you; you will
receive a receipt for them later. Now Sgt. Donat will take your
address and telephone number. Then please wait for the police
technician: we need your fingerprints.”
The woman twitched. “Mine? What for? I ain’t done nothing. I
just found him, that’s all.”

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