irregular pearl overwritten with tiny Chinese characters, a pierced metal cap from a bottle of Coke, and mounted on a gold ring a fragment of what looked to be glass from a shattered windshield—presumably a walk-away from some accident. She had a four-character chop tattooed on her face: "Pearl," "River," and one Laura read as "Traveling," all around a Phoenix. She had a habit of periodically hunching her shoulders and peering out from between them, a mannerism which made her look like a questing ferret. It was particularly pronounced when she was running her fingers over Dante's dresser drawers, and around the frame of the smashed window. Every time she did it, Officer Pierce would shoot a questioning look at her, accompanied by an impatient grunt.
At first the angel volunteered her information quickly enough: one intruder; male; looking for something. Had been alarmed while in the bedroom.
"Extraordinary," Officer Pierce growled, looking down at the blackened package of firecrackers still lying on Dante's (bare, painted) living-room floor. "What would we do without you?"
"A question I often ask myself," the angel shot back. Pierce rolled his eyes.
While the young white cop took Laura's statement, Pierce strolled around the apartment, listening and making notes. As far as Laura could tell, nothing had been stolen.
The angel's shoulders jerked as she bent over Dante's dresser. A curious, guarded expression came over her face.
"Well?"
The angel glanced back at Pierce. "Nothing... definite," she said.
He scowled.
Brushing her skirt away from her knees, the angel knelt down and ran her fingertips over the handle of one of the drawers, very, very carefully, as if stroking a venomous snake. Her shoulders jumped up and she hissed with a sharp intake of breath.
Pierce's scowl deepened. "What have you got?"
"Not—not much," the angel stammered. Unthinkingly, she reached to touch the pearl hanging from her neck.
"It's some angel thing, isn't it? You all get that shifty look when you're concealing evidence."
The angel stood up, bristling. "I get paid by the hour, Sergeant, whether I'm here or at my desk. I'm perfectly happy to let you handle this on your own, if that's what you want."
"Now, now," young Donnelly said soothingly. "We all know it's late and tempers are a little—Awhh! (yawn!) Excuse me!—are a little short. Let's try to get along." He held up his hands diplomatically. He was smart enough not to direct his charm at Officer Pierce, Laura noticed.
Pierce rolled his eyes. He did it with an expressive power and economy of movement that suggested frequent practice. Scowling, he turned back to Laura. "You know the occupant?" Laura nodded. "What's he do?"
"He works in a biology lab at the University."
"Student?"
"No. Just a paid tech. Dropped out halfway through his Master's."
"How long has he been living here?"
"Three years, I think. He was here when I moved in."
Officer Pierce's eyebrows rose in some surprise. He looked around the room. "Awfully bare for a place someone's been living for three years. No television, no record player, no magazines. Everything neat."
Laura shrugged. "He spends a lot of time out. If Dante wants to watch something, he goes to the movies. If he wants music, he goes to a club, or the symphony. He always preferred the place bare. Less to clean up if you bring home, um, company, he says."
"Company?"
They heard the angel laugh sharply from the kitchen. "A stack of condoms in his bedroom drawer," she explained. "No bread or milk in the fridge, but a tin of pâté and two bottles of wine. Ooh, very nice," she added. "Front-du-Lac '84."
Officer Donnelly grinned broadly, and a small smile even escaped Officer Pierce. "Did Mr.—"
"Ratkay."
"—Ratkay have any enemies you know of, Ms. Chen?" He glanced at the bedroom. "Disappointed girlfriends, for instance?"
After a moment, Laura shook her head. "I don't think so. He was never really close with any of them. Dante's a nice guy,
At first the angel volunteered her information quickly enough: one intruder; male; looking for something. Had been alarmed while in the bedroom.
"Extraordinary," Officer Pierce growled, looking down at the blackened package of firecrackers still lying on Dante's (bare, painted) living-room floor. "What would we do without you?"
"A question I often ask myself," the angel shot back. Pierce rolled his eyes.
While the young white cop took Laura's statement, Pierce strolled around the apartment, listening and making notes. As far as Laura could tell, nothing had been stolen.
The angel's shoulders jerked as she bent over Dante's dresser. A curious, guarded expression came over her face.
"Well?"
The angel glanced back at Pierce. "Nothing... definite," she said.
He scowled.
Brushing her skirt away from her knees, the angel knelt down and ran her fingertips over the handle of one of the drawers, very, very carefully, as if stroking a venomous snake. Her shoulders jumped up and she hissed with a sharp intake of breath.
Pierce's scowl deepened. "What have you got?"
"Not—not much," the angel stammered. Unthinkingly, she reached to touch the pearl hanging from her neck.
"It's some angel thing, isn't it? You all get that shifty look when you're concealing evidence."
The angel stood up, bristling. "I get paid by the hour, Sergeant, whether I'm here or at my desk. I'm perfectly happy to let you handle this on your own, if that's what you want."
"Now, now," young Donnelly said soothingly. "We all know it's late and tempers are a little—Awhh! (yawn!) Excuse me!—are a little short. Let's try to get along." He held up his hands diplomatically. He was smart enough not to direct his charm at Officer Pierce, Laura noticed.
Pierce rolled his eyes. He did it with an expressive power and economy of movement that suggested frequent practice. Scowling, he turned back to Laura. "You know the occupant?" Laura nodded. "What's he do?"
"He works in a biology lab at the University."
"Student?"
"No. Just a paid tech. Dropped out halfway through his Master's."
"How long has he been living here?"
"Three years, I think. He was here when I moved in."
Officer Pierce's eyebrows rose in some surprise. He looked around the room. "Awfully bare for a place someone's been living for three years. No television, no record player, no magazines. Everything neat."
Laura shrugged. "He spends a lot of time out. If Dante wants to watch something, he goes to the movies. If he wants music, he goes to a club, or the symphony. He always preferred the place bare. Less to clean up if you bring home, um, company, he says."
"Company?"
They heard the angel laugh sharply from the kitchen. "A stack of condoms in his bedroom drawer," she explained. "No bread or milk in the fridge, but a tin of pâté and two bottles of wine. Ooh, very nice," she added. "Front-du-Lac '84."
Officer Donnelly grinned broadly, and a small smile even escaped Officer Pierce. "Did Mr.—"
"Ratkay."
"—Ratkay have any enemies you know of, Ms. Chen?" He glanced at the bedroom. "Disappointed girlfriends, for instance?"
After a moment, Laura shook her head. "I don't think so. He was never really close with any of them. Dante's a nice guy,
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