Hard Fall by Ridley Pearson

two men searched the room, wandering it slowly, heads craned down. The lab boys would find something—they always did. Whether or not it would help the investigation remained to be seen.
    A knock came on the door and Macalister answered it. A shy Vietnamese woman introduced herself as Karen Xi. She was a tiny, flat-chested woman with callused hands, her hair held back by a white plastic clip with blue flowers. She had twisted teeth and flawless dark skin. Her frightened eyes seemed to occupy half her face.
    â€œYou’re in no kind of trouble,” Macalister explained.
    â€œYes.”
    â€œIn fact, you may be able to be a tremendous help to us.”
    â€œYes.” Looking at him out of the corner of her eye, skeptically.
    â€œYou cleaned this room this morning.”
    â€œYes. Check-out.”
    â€œYou clean more thoroughly when it’s a check-out?”
    â€œYes.”
    Daggett wondered, was it too much to ask that this woman remember this room in particular?
    â€œYou clean a lot of rooms,” Macalister said, reading his mind.
    â€œMany rooms.”
    â€œYou probably don’t pay much attention, one room to another. Is that right?”
    She nodded, shrugged her shoulders, and offered them both an innocent expression. She still seemed scared.
    â€œ I wouldn’t pay much attention, I can tell you that,” Macalister encouraged.
    She smiled, but raised her hand to cover her mouth, not allowing those awful teeth to show.
    â€œYou wouldn’t happen to remember anything in particular about this room?”
    â€œYeah, sure I do.”
    â€œThe guest?” Daggett blurted out, interrupting, drawing a look of annoyance from Macalister.
    â€œDid you see him?” Macalister asked. “Do you remember the guest?”
    â€œNot him. Don’t remember him . Remember room … clean room. Very neat and tidy. Easy to clean.”
    â€œNeat?” Daggett asked. This was just the kind of information he had hoped for—it shed some light on the man’s personality.
    â€œYou notice when you clean rooms.”
    â€œI’m sure you do,” Macalister said. His eyes asked Daggett to stop, but Daggett couldn’t. “He smoked,” Daggett said.
    â€œYes.”
    Now Macalister glared, but Daggett was unrelenting. “Do you, by any chance, remember what the cigarettes looked like? What color?” Daggett asked.
    â€œNo. Don’t remember. He smoked. He left the window cracked open.”
    Daggett walked over to the window and studied the building and its fire escapes more closely. If pressed, could a person escape from that window? Yes, he thought it possible. Edge your way over there, drop down to the overhang. Possible. Leave the window cracked open to speed up your exit. “We’ll want the latent-print team to pay special attention here.
    â€œDid you ever see a gun, a knife, anything like that?” Daggett asked her.
    â€œNo. Nothing like that.”
    â€œDid he speak to you?” Macalister interrupted.
    â€œNo. I never even saw him. He done something, this man?”
    The killer’s invisibility bothered Daggett. First at Duhning, now here.
    â€œ Anything unusual? Anything at all?” Daggett blurted out in frustration, further annoying Macalister.
    â€œOh, yes,” she said, drawing their attention with her sharp voice and suddenly bright, anxious eyes. “The tooth!” She beamed. “Not every day you find a tooth.”

5
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    Anthony Kort cringed as he explored the gaping wound at the back of his gums with the rubber tip of the toothbrush. It was ugly back there. His jaw was so swollen on that side that he had taken to stuffing an enormous wad of tissue between his opposite cheek and gums in an attempt to balance the look of his face. If ever there was a chipmunk, he thought, it’s me. He didn’t mind it so much: he looked like a different person, and that had its advantages.
    He felt