your theory about the urine. See what he thinks.”
They found McIntee in the master bedroom. “A test for urine? Well, in the field, the best way is still the heat and sniff method. If we find something we think is urine, we can take a sample back to the lab and check it.”
McDonald said, “Let’s assume he was killed somewhere in the house. Most likely it would have been here in the bedroom, or maybe the kitchen or living room. That’s where we should check first. Let’s have a go, shall we?”
It was Lori who found the spot. She was on all fours in the living room, trying to smell the furniture without actually touching anything with her nose. In front of the couch, her nostrils wrinkled with distaste at the acrid smell of ammonia. “Here,” she called out.
Detective Dick came into the room and burst out laughing. “Quite the view, love! Where’s that photographer? Have to get a picture of this! Singh the bloodhound!”
Lori sat back on her haunches and eyed him coldly. “Have a little respect,” she said. “A man was likely murdered right here.” She pointed to the left hand end of the couch.
Ken McIntee came in and sniffed the sofa as well. “I think you’ve found where he was killed,” he confirmed. “We’ll take this back to the lab to make sure.” He picked up the seat cushion and looked at McDonald. “That was a good idea you had.”
Lori had stood up. “Don’t encourage him. He’s insufferable enough.” She gave McDonald her bleakest look. “I’m heading out for some air.”
McDonald followed her out onto the sidewalk in front of Levine’s house, fishing a cigarette package out of his jacket on the way.
“Do you have to smoke right now?”
McDonald exhaled smoke as he studied her. “Yes, love, I do. It bothers you that much, does it?” His sandy hair was blown back in the morning breeze.
Lori flushed. She was letting him get under her skin. She resolved to do better. “What you do is your business. Just don’t blow smoke in my face. Or call me love.”
McDonald gave her a mock salute. He took another long drag from his cigarette and carefully exhaled downwind. “What puzzles me is how the killer entered. We didn’t see any sign that he forced his way in. Do you think Levine knew him and let him in?”
“If he did, one of the neighbours might have seen it. Especially Mrs. Stephens there.” Lori indicated the widow who could be seen sitting in her front window across the street. She would have to talk to her in a minute. “What if he didn’t let him in, though? At least, not knowingly. What if he just left a door unlocked? It happens.”
McDonald exhaled again, dropped his cigarette on the sidewalk and ground it under his boot heel. “It does indeed, love. Let’s join our uniformed friends and finish this damned canvass so we can get something to eat. I’m starved.”
twenty-seven
Drumm was sitting by himself at a table for two at Sunshine Café, a small, trendy place near the downtown. It was a cheery spot with bright yellow walls, a wonderful mural depicting a Caribbean beach and comfortable chairs. There was seating for maybe forty people. He and Emily had come here several times. They liked it for its quick, efficient service and varied menu, Emily enjoying the vegetarian options.
He didn’t like eating alone but sometimes it was unavoidable. As always he sat with his back to the wall so he could survey the other patrons and the street outside. He had just ordered coffee and was considering his options, trying to decide between a burger platter and some type of pasta. The choice would depend partly on his blood sugar reading which he was about to check. He would have a sip of coffee first and then make a discreet trip to the restroom.
His cellphone buzzed in his pocket. Emily. He’d had to rush this morning, had to ask her to look after Will, and barely had time to talk to her. He’d promised to call her and then forgot. Drumm sighed.
“Where
They found McIntee in the master bedroom. “A test for urine? Well, in the field, the best way is still the heat and sniff method. If we find something we think is urine, we can take a sample back to the lab and check it.”
McDonald said, “Let’s assume he was killed somewhere in the house. Most likely it would have been here in the bedroom, or maybe the kitchen or living room. That’s where we should check first. Let’s have a go, shall we?”
It was Lori who found the spot. She was on all fours in the living room, trying to smell the furniture without actually touching anything with her nose. In front of the couch, her nostrils wrinkled with distaste at the acrid smell of ammonia. “Here,” she called out.
Detective Dick came into the room and burst out laughing. “Quite the view, love! Where’s that photographer? Have to get a picture of this! Singh the bloodhound!”
Lori sat back on her haunches and eyed him coldly. “Have a little respect,” she said. “A man was likely murdered right here.” She pointed to the left hand end of the couch.
Ken McIntee came in and sniffed the sofa as well. “I think you’ve found where he was killed,” he confirmed. “We’ll take this back to the lab to make sure.” He picked up the seat cushion and looked at McDonald. “That was a good idea you had.”
Lori had stood up. “Don’t encourage him. He’s insufferable enough.” She gave McDonald her bleakest look. “I’m heading out for some air.”
McDonald followed her out onto the sidewalk in front of Levine’s house, fishing a cigarette package out of his jacket on the way.
“Do you have to smoke right now?”
McDonald exhaled smoke as he studied her. “Yes, love, I do. It bothers you that much, does it?” His sandy hair was blown back in the morning breeze.
Lori flushed. She was letting him get under her skin. She resolved to do better. “What you do is your business. Just don’t blow smoke in my face. Or call me love.”
McDonald gave her a mock salute. He took another long drag from his cigarette and carefully exhaled downwind. “What puzzles me is how the killer entered. We didn’t see any sign that he forced his way in. Do you think Levine knew him and let him in?”
“If he did, one of the neighbours might have seen it. Especially Mrs. Stephens there.” Lori indicated the widow who could be seen sitting in her front window across the street. She would have to talk to her in a minute. “What if he didn’t let him in, though? At least, not knowingly. What if he just left a door unlocked? It happens.”
McDonald exhaled again, dropped his cigarette on the sidewalk and ground it under his boot heel. “It does indeed, love. Let’s join our uniformed friends and finish this damned canvass so we can get something to eat. I’m starved.”
twenty-seven
Drumm was sitting by himself at a table for two at Sunshine Café, a small, trendy place near the downtown. It was a cheery spot with bright yellow walls, a wonderful mural depicting a Caribbean beach and comfortable chairs. There was seating for maybe forty people. He and Emily had come here several times. They liked it for its quick, efficient service and varied menu, Emily enjoying the vegetarian options.
He didn’t like eating alone but sometimes it was unavoidable. As always he sat with his back to the wall so he could survey the other patrons and the street outside. He had just ordered coffee and was considering his options, trying to decide between a burger platter and some type of pasta. The choice would depend partly on his blood sugar reading which he was about to check. He would have a sip of coffee first and then make a discreet trip to the restroom.
His cellphone buzzed in his pocket. Emily. He’d had to rush this morning, had to ask her to look after Will, and barely had time to talk to her. He’d promised to call her and then forgot. Drumm sighed.
“Where
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