the building superintendent, Walter Meyers, said for a third time as he shook his bald head.It was obvious that he was having trouble wrapping his mind around the concept. The barrel-chested older man had insisted on coming along with them to unlock the late William Reynolds’s fifth-floor apartment.“You sure it was murder?” he asked Esteban. Putting the key in the lock, he twisted it and opened the door, but blocked it with his rather wide body.Esteban deliberately moved the overall-clad, heavyset superintendent out of the way. “Most people don’t enclose themselves up in a rug, then slit their own throats,” he deadpanned as he and Kari walked into the apartment.Inside it smelled stagnant and oppressive.This place sure could use some ventilation, Kari thought to herself as she slipped on a pair of plastic gloves. Since Esteban was not following suit, she dug into her pocket and produced a second pair. She wordlessly held them out to him.After a beat, Esteban took them from her and slid the gloves on.Satisfied, Kari turned to Meyers.
