bedroom.
“Somebody had to help her get that off,” Vicky said. “And that somebody is going to have some heavy questions to answer.”
They continued with the walk through.
“You think Darlene was this much of a neat freak?” Harry asked when they had been in every room.
“If she was, she was like no single woman I ever met.” Vicky paused and thought about what she’d said. “Actually, she was like no single woman I ever met.” She turned to Harry. “You think the perp came in here and cleaned up? Like maybe he’d been here before and wanted to make sure there was nothing for us to find?”
“There’s always something,” Harry said.
“Yeah, but maybe the perp doesn’t know that.”
They spent an hour looking through Darlene Beckett’s personal effects— clothing, bills, letters, books and magazines, makeup, food supplies, and prescription drugs—drawing together a picture of what the woman had been like, her personal needs and tastes.
Vicky concentrated on Darlene’s bedroom. Like the rest of the apartment the closets and dressers were neat and carefully arranged. Even so, they were close to overflowing. The woman had owned twice the amount of clothes and shoes as Vicky herself.
In the top drawer of a small bedside table Vicky found a collection of sex toys and a plain white envelope that held what appeared to be five Viagra tablets. She pointed them out to Harry.
“No prescription bottle,” she noted. “Probably bought on the street, either by her boyfriend or maybe she bought them herself. There’s a regular black market on stolen E.D. pills.”
“A boyfriend’s not gonna leave them here, unless he’s a pretty regular boyfriend,” Harry said. “According to Juan there were plenty of guys, but nobody special.”
“So you think she bought them?”
“Just a guess. Maybe she wanted to make sure her lovers could handle seconds or thirds.”
Vicky gave him a wide-eyed, innocent look. “Guys can do that?”
“You’re a regular comic.”
“I try,” Vicky said, turning away to hide an impish grin that had broken through.
“There’s something even more interesting in the kitchen,” Harry said, causing her to turn back.
“What’s that?”
“Come and see.”
Vicky followed him into the small, galley-style kitchen.
Harry opened a drawer next to a battered gas range. Inside Vicky saw a collection of red paper matchbooks, each identical to the one they had found on the Brooker Creek hiking trail, each bearing the name The Peek-a-Boo Lounge .
“Looks like Darlene had a favorite bar,” Vicky said.
“Looks like,” Harry agreed.
Vicky studied the floor, then raised her eyes to Harry. “I told you I never met a single woman like her. You can put a big star next to that line. I guess we better check that place out tonight. And bring some pictures of her with us.”
The CSI team arrived just as Harry and Vicky finished their search and were preparing to hit the streets to interview neighbors. Martin LeBaron, the deputy sergeant who headed up the unit, collected Harry and Vicky’s shoe coverings and bagged them so they could be processed for any trace evidence they had picked up.
“So tell me what you found,” LeBaron said.
Reading from his case notebook, Harry gave him a detailed list.
“Matches from a tits-and-ass bar, huh,” LeBaron said. “I’ve driven by that joint. It’s the pits. That broad, she was a piece of work, wasn’t she?”
Harry ignored the comment and reminded LeBaron that he needed a complete workup on the apartment as quickly as possible.
“I know, I know,” LeBaron said. “I already got that be thorough, be fast crap from your captain, as well as some clown in the chief’s office.” LeBaron was tall and slender and somewhere in his forties, with unruly black hair, a large nose, and eyes that seemed perpetually tired. “You guys seem to think we’ll do a half-assed job if you don’t stay on top of us. I promise you that won’t
“Somebody had to help her get that off,” Vicky said. “And that somebody is going to have some heavy questions to answer.”
They continued with the walk through.
“You think Darlene was this much of a neat freak?” Harry asked when they had been in every room.
“If she was, she was like no single woman I ever met.” Vicky paused and thought about what she’d said. “Actually, she was like no single woman I ever met.” She turned to Harry. “You think the perp came in here and cleaned up? Like maybe he’d been here before and wanted to make sure there was nothing for us to find?”
“There’s always something,” Harry said.
“Yeah, but maybe the perp doesn’t know that.”
They spent an hour looking through Darlene Beckett’s personal effects— clothing, bills, letters, books and magazines, makeup, food supplies, and prescription drugs—drawing together a picture of what the woman had been like, her personal needs and tastes.
Vicky concentrated on Darlene’s bedroom. Like the rest of the apartment the closets and dressers were neat and carefully arranged. Even so, they were close to overflowing. The woman had owned twice the amount of clothes and shoes as Vicky herself.
In the top drawer of a small bedside table Vicky found a collection of sex toys and a plain white envelope that held what appeared to be five Viagra tablets. She pointed them out to Harry.
“No prescription bottle,” she noted. “Probably bought on the street, either by her boyfriend or maybe she bought them herself. There’s a regular black market on stolen E.D. pills.”
“A boyfriend’s not gonna leave them here, unless he’s a pretty regular boyfriend,” Harry said. “According to Juan there were plenty of guys, but nobody special.”
“So you think she bought them?”
“Just a guess. Maybe she wanted to make sure her lovers could handle seconds or thirds.”
Vicky gave him a wide-eyed, innocent look. “Guys can do that?”
“You’re a regular comic.”
“I try,” Vicky said, turning away to hide an impish grin that had broken through.
“There’s something even more interesting in the kitchen,” Harry said, causing her to turn back.
“What’s that?”
“Come and see.”
Vicky followed him into the small, galley-style kitchen.
Harry opened a drawer next to a battered gas range. Inside Vicky saw a collection of red paper matchbooks, each identical to the one they had found on the Brooker Creek hiking trail, each bearing the name The Peek-a-Boo Lounge .
“Looks like Darlene had a favorite bar,” Vicky said.
“Looks like,” Harry agreed.
Vicky studied the floor, then raised her eyes to Harry. “I told you I never met a single woman like her. You can put a big star next to that line. I guess we better check that place out tonight. And bring some pictures of her with us.”
The CSI team arrived just as Harry and Vicky finished their search and were preparing to hit the streets to interview neighbors. Martin LeBaron, the deputy sergeant who headed up the unit, collected Harry and Vicky’s shoe coverings and bagged them so they could be processed for any trace evidence they had picked up.
“So tell me what you found,” LeBaron said.
Reading from his case notebook, Harry gave him a detailed list.
“Matches from a tits-and-ass bar, huh,” LeBaron said. “I’ve driven by that joint. It’s the pits. That broad, she was a piece of work, wasn’t she?”
Harry ignored the comment and reminded LeBaron that he needed a complete workup on the apartment as quickly as possible.
“I know, I know,” LeBaron said. “I already got that be thorough, be fast crap from your captain, as well as some clown in the chief’s office.” LeBaron was tall and slender and somewhere in his forties, with unruly black hair, a large nose, and eyes that seemed perpetually tired. “You guys seem to think we’ll do a half-assed job if you don’t stay on top of us. I promise you that won’t
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