man sat up, wide-eyed, a deer in the headlights of Schultz’s voice.
“Y … yes?”
“Did you see anyone leaving the house, or near the house? On foot or in a car?”
“No. No one, not in the whole time I waited.”
“You waited? You didn’t find the door kicked in?”
“No, I did that myself. I don’t have a key. I rang the doorbell over and over. I figured she was in the bathroom and couldn’t hear it. After about five minutes I called her from my cellphone. When she didn’t answer, I got frantic. She had to be home, because her car’s parked outside and I just left her a little while ago. It was the open window, wasn’t it? The way the killer got in? I begged her not to sleep with that window open, but she wouldn’t listen.”
Huber had had enough. He covered his face with his hands and his shoulders shook. “I begged her,” he said from behind his hands.
“You may have scared the killer off.” That is, if you’re not the killer.
“Ran!”
“Sir.” She was already at his elbow, somehow. “The killer might still be in the neighborhood. It’s a long shot, but it’s a shot. I want patrol cars saturating this area. Can you coordinate that?”
“I’ll call it in.”
Schultz was marveling at the woman’s efficiency, in action and speech, when he heard a call from inside the house.
“Leo, you’ve got to see this.”
When he got to the bathroom, she was squatting next to the shower. She’d raised the victim’s head with a hand under the chin, and was gently clearing the wet hair away from the face.
“Damn it, Doc, I told you not to touch anything!”
“You didn’t tell me not to touch anyone. Look, Leo.” She tilted the victim’s face up to him.
A smiling couple, sharing a drink from a coconut.
“It’s June Merrett,” he said.
“Or someone who looks enough like her to be her twin.” PJ took out her cellphone and dialed June’s home. The phone rang for a long time with no response, and without switching to voice mail. Her suspicion grew that the woman lying dead at their feet was the same person she’d interviewed, a woman whose wackiness may have just been leakage of concealed, powerful grief. A woman whose grief she’d allowed herself to taste.
Schultz gestured to get her attention.
“She might be out, doing funeral arrangements or something,” Schultz said.
PJ covered the phone, even though no one could hear her on the other end. “At this time of night? The body hasn’t been released yet, anyway.”
Schultz observed the corpse in the shower, his eyes lingering on the dead woman’s breasts. PJ was about to give him an indignant nudge when he spoke.
“June’s tits were bigger,” he said.
“What?”
“This woman has smaller tits than June. Don’t you remember her foreplay pics? In the album?”
“Well, yes,” PJ thought back to the image of June Merrett pulling her robe around her when she sat down in her floral chair. The lollipop. “You might be right.”
“Might be, hell. I know I’m right.” He tapped his forehead. “The power of the trained observer.”
PJ frowned, wondering just how much time he spent observing women’s breasts, and how much of it was in the line of duty. She gave up on the call and folded her phone. “Better get someone over to check on June, in spite of your observational skills.”
“Yeah, never hurts to have confirmation.” He made a quick call asking to have a patrol officer check the Merrett house.
Schultz said, “So we probably have a look-alike here. Coincidence?”
“It would have to be a double coincidence, don’t you think, with that drawing of the heart and knife on the back of the bathroom door?”
Schultz pushed the door closed and studied the drawing again. “I still say it’s not conclusive. Mr. Huber out there could still be good for it. ‘You’ve wounded my heart,’ something like that.”
Voices near the front of the house announced the ME and the ETU arriving and coming in through
“Y … yes?”
“Did you see anyone leaving the house, or near the house? On foot or in a car?”
“No. No one, not in the whole time I waited.”
“You waited? You didn’t find the door kicked in?”
“No, I did that myself. I don’t have a key. I rang the doorbell over and over. I figured she was in the bathroom and couldn’t hear it. After about five minutes I called her from my cellphone. When she didn’t answer, I got frantic. She had to be home, because her car’s parked outside and I just left her a little while ago. It was the open window, wasn’t it? The way the killer got in? I begged her not to sleep with that window open, but she wouldn’t listen.”
Huber had had enough. He covered his face with his hands and his shoulders shook. “I begged her,” he said from behind his hands.
“You may have scared the killer off.” That is, if you’re not the killer.
“Ran!”
“Sir.” She was already at his elbow, somehow. “The killer might still be in the neighborhood. It’s a long shot, but it’s a shot. I want patrol cars saturating this area. Can you coordinate that?”
“I’ll call it in.”
Schultz was marveling at the woman’s efficiency, in action and speech, when he heard a call from inside the house.
“Leo, you’ve got to see this.”
When he got to the bathroom, she was squatting next to the shower. She’d raised the victim’s head with a hand under the chin, and was gently clearing the wet hair away from the face.
“Damn it, Doc, I told you not to touch anything!”
“You didn’t tell me not to touch anyone. Look, Leo.” She tilted the victim’s face up to him.
A smiling couple, sharing a drink from a coconut.
“It’s June Merrett,” he said.
“Or someone who looks enough like her to be her twin.” PJ took out her cellphone and dialed June’s home. The phone rang for a long time with no response, and without switching to voice mail. Her suspicion grew that the woman lying dead at their feet was the same person she’d interviewed, a woman whose wackiness may have just been leakage of concealed, powerful grief. A woman whose grief she’d allowed herself to taste.
Schultz gestured to get her attention.
“She might be out, doing funeral arrangements or something,” Schultz said.
PJ covered the phone, even though no one could hear her on the other end. “At this time of night? The body hasn’t been released yet, anyway.”
Schultz observed the corpse in the shower, his eyes lingering on the dead woman’s breasts. PJ was about to give him an indignant nudge when he spoke.
“June’s tits were bigger,” he said.
“What?”
“This woman has smaller tits than June. Don’t you remember her foreplay pics? In the album?”
“Well, yes,” PJ thought back to the image of June Merrett pulling her robe around her when she sat down in her floral chair. The lollipop. “You might be right.”
“Might be, hell. I know I’m right.” He tapped his forehead. “The power of the trained observer.”
PJ frowned, wondering just how much time he spent observing women’s breasts, and how much of it was in the line of duty. She gave up on the call and folded her phone. “Better get someone over to check on June, in spite of your observational skills.”
“Yeah, never hurts to have confirmation.” He made a quick call asking to have a patrol officer check the Merrett house.
Schultz said, “So we probably have a look-alike here. Coincidence?”
“It would have to be a double coincidence, don’t you think, with that drawing of the heart and knife on the back of the bathroom door?”
Schultz pushed the door closed and studied the drawing again. “I still say it’s not conclusive. Mr. Huber out there could still be good for it. ‘You’ve wounded my heart,’ something like that.”
Voices near the front of the house announced the ME and the ETU arriving and coming in through
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