vanity area with my foot and dropped to my knees. “And what have we here?”
Ursula crouch ed in behind me and looked over my shoulder. “`Tis a powder methinks.”
“I see that.”
“A blue powder.”
“I see that, too. I’m just wondering where it came from.” I scooped up some of the chalky dust and worked it between my fingers and thumb. “It’s not gritty, but it’s not exactly smooth either.”
“Be it smitty?”
“Huh?”
“ `Twixt smooth and gritty.”
“Ah, funny.”
She smiled at that, apparently pleased with her spontaneous wit.
I collected a sample of the blue dust in another little evidence baggie. As I stood and turned around, I noticed a tiny splatter of blood on the wall by the door. It was easy to miss before, thanks to the colorful fish and coral patterned wallpaper. Upon closer inspection, I discovered more tiny droplets peppered throughout the brown and red sea corals.
My min d immediately returned images of the dream I had the night before. I remembered April standing at the vanity when she spotted something in the mirror. She spun about to confront it and took a hard blow to the forehead, knocking her back against the vanity.
I pushed past Ursula and hurried to the bedroom. There on the dresser, conspicuously out of place among perfume bottles and a jewelry box, sat an eighteen-inch glass bowling trophy. I picked it up and examined the base.
“ Urs.” I showed her the bottom. “That’s blood there, isn’t it?”
“Aye, methinks so.”
“Someone hit April in the head with this. It wasn’t just a dream. I saw it.”
“Thou wert here?”
I took a deep breath and let it out with a sigh. “Yeah, I guess I was.” I set the trophy back down on the dresser, but not before wiping it clean. “I wish I hadn’t picked that up.”
“Why?”
“Because now I’ll never know whether or not my prints were already on it before we got here.”
“Or who else’s.”
“Yes. Hey, you know Carlos mentioned that some of the neighbors last night reported hearing a scream, and then the sound of breaking glass. Maybe someone saw something.”
“ Should we ask about?”
“ What could it hurt?”
We stepped out April’s front door just as a man came walking by the house with his dog. He barely took notice, but his dog, a staunch looking Akita with black eyes and pointed ears changed direction at the sight of us.
I heard him growl as he pulled against his leash, his muscular body leaning into his stance , forcing his master to re-loop the leather strap around his wrist.
Ursula grabbed my arm and pulled me back. The man jerked on the leash and smiled through gritted teeth. “It’s okay,” he called out. “He won’t bite.”
As if contradicting his master, the dog lurched forward and began barking. He recognized me, or my scent, and I recognized his bark. I heard it before, carried in the echoes of a rain-soaked night. He seemed less sinister then, more phantom than menace. Now that our eyes met, I could see his old soul knew something I did not. Something evil had crossed his path before. He seemed certain that evil was me.
Ursula and I waited in frozen step for the man to pull his dog along . After they turned the corner, we continued across the yard to the house next door.
We climbed the three steps onto the porch and took up positions at the door. All the windows facing the street were opened, their screens latched with simple hooks. A breeze from Ipswich Bay whispered through them, teasing the curtains like the sails on a schooner eager to launch.
I touched Ursula’s arm to get her attention. “Listen, I’ll do the talking . I know these folks. They don’t like strangers calling at their door.”
“Thou doth know those what live here?”
“No, I don’t know who lives here. I mean I know the people around these parts in general. They’re tight-knit. They don’t take kindly to strangers.”
She looked at me quizzically. “ And who pray tell
Ursula crouch ed in behind me and looked over my shoulder. “`Tis a powder methinks.”
“I see that.”
“A blue powder.”
“I see that, too. I’m just wondering where it came from.” I scooped up some of the chalky dust and worked it between my fingers and thumb. “It’s not gritty, but it’s not exactly smooth either.”
“Be it smitty?”
“Huh?”
“ `Twixt smooth and gritty.”
“Ah, funny.”
She smiled at that, apparently pleased with her spontaneous wit.
I collected a sample of the blue dust in another little evidence baggie. As I stood and turned around, I noticed a tiny splatter of blood on the wall by the door. It was easy to miss before, thanks to the colorful fish and coral patterned wallpaper. Upon closer inspection, I discovered more tiny droplets peppered throughout the brown and red sea corals.
My min d immediately returned images of the dream I had the night before. I remembered April standing at the vanity when she spotted something in the mirror. She spun about to confront it and took a hard blow to the forehead, knocking her back against the vanity.
I pushed past Ursula and hurried to the bedroom. There on the dresser, conspicuously out of place among perfume bottles and a jewelry box, sat an eighteen-inch glass bowling trophy. I picked it up and examined the base.
“ Urs.” I showed her the bottom. “That’s blood there, isn’t it?”
“Aye, methinks so.”
“Someone hit April in the head with this. It wasn’t just a dream. I saw it.”
“Thou wert here?”
I took a deep breath and let it out with a sigh. “Yeah, I guess I was.” I set the trophy back down on the dresser, but not before wiping it clean. “I wish I hadn’t picked that up.”
“Why?”
“Because now I’ll never know whether or not my prints were already on it before we got here.”
“Or who else’s.”
“Yes. Hey, you know Carlos mentioned that some of the neighbors last night reported hearing a scream, and then the sound of breaking glass. Maybe someone saw something.”
“ Should we ask about?”
“ What could it hurt?”
We stepped out April’s front door just as a man came walking by the house with his dog. He barely took notice, but his dog, a staunch looking Akita with black eyes and pointed ears changed direction at the sight of us.
I heard him growl as he pulled against his leash, his muscular body leaning into his stance , forcing his master to re-loop the leather strap around his wrist.
Ursula grabbed my arm and pulled me back. The man jerked on the leash and smiled through gritted teeth. “It’s okay,” he called out. “He won’t bite.”
As if contradicting his master, the dog lurched forward and began barking. He recognized me, or my scent, and I recognized his bark. I heard it before, carried in the echoes of a rain-soaked night. He seemed less sinister then, more phantom than menace. Now that our eyes met, I could see his old soul knew something I did not. Something evil had crossed his path before. He seemed certain that evil was me.
Ursula and I waited in frozen step for the man to pull his dog along . After they turned the corner, we continued across the yard to the house next door.
We climbed the three steps onto the porch and took up positions at the door. All the windows facing the street were opened, their screens latched with simple hooks. A breeze from Ipswich Bay whispered through them, teasing the curtains like the sails on a schooner eager to launch.
I touched Ursula’s arm to get her attention. “Listen, I’ll do the talking . I know these folks. They don’t like strangers calling at their door.”
“Thou doth know those what live here?”
“No, I don’t know who lives here. I mean I know the people around these parts in general. They’re tight-knit. They don’t take kindly to strangers.”
She looked at me quizzically. “ And who pray tell
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