I’m picking up doggy odor.”
Gloria said, “My nose is stuffed.” She tried anyway. “Sorry, I’m not picking up anything but you could be right about the texture.” Smiling. “Unless someone’s using a real bad conditioner.”
She produced an evidence bag. “I know the techies generally do hair unless we’re running drug screens on the shaft, but we happen to have an intern from the U. doing DNA analysis on all kinds of critters. Want me to take it, maybe I can get you something on species and breed?”
“Appreciate it.”
Gloria took another look at Quigg. “Poor guy goes out for his nightly dog-walk and this happens?” Frowning. “So where’s the canine in question? Maybe Fido got left at home.”
Milo said, “Or maybe our bad guy took a live trophy.”
“Rover stands by and watches his master get murdered and then goes off willingly with the perpetrator? Not a protective breed, that’s for sure.” Catching her breath. “Or the poor thing’s lying somewhere looking like Mr. Quigg.”
“Uniforms checked the immediate area but we’ll go over it again after the techies arrive.”
Gloria scanned the dirt. “Don’t see any prints in here, dog or human.”
“Our bad guy cleaned up carefully.”
“Just like the first time,” she said. “To me that makes it even more repulsive.”
I said, “I don’t see him cleaning every inch of ground all the way to Sunset.”
Milo cell-phoned Reed. “Moses, keep the entire area tight, no one in or out until whoever’s on duty helps you examine every inch of dirt between Sunset and the gate for prints. I’m talking tire, foot, paw, anything.”
Clicked off without waiting for an answer.
Gloria bent back down and turned out Marlon Quigg’s remaining pants pockets. “Empty.” Back on her feet, she photographed the scene at multiple angles, ending with close-ups of the folded brown shirt.
She inspected the label. “Macy’s generic, size M.”
No blood; the garment had been removed prior to the cutting.
She got back down near the body, started rolling it. Stopped and reached under and drew something out.
Piece of paper, folded into a packet, corners perfectly square.
She photographed it closed, then placed a sterile cloth under it and spread it open.
White, standard letter size. In the center, a simple message:
?
CHAPTER
14
M arlon Quigg’s apartment was in one of the nice buildings we’d passed.
A nearby traffic light would’ve provided easy crossing of Sunset. The walk to Temescal Canyon would’ve been pleasant.
The complex was designed to resemble an enormous hacienda, tricked out with a too-red tile roof, a false bell tower, and a front loggia that shaded arched entry doors. A tile-roofed carport faced the main structure across a broad, flagstone court.
Eight slots in the port. Quigg’s Kia sat in Number Two. Quigg, B and M appeared on Unit Two’s mailbox.
Ground-floor unit in the middle of the building. I recognized the woman who answered the door because I’d just seen her photo.
Milo said, “Mrs. Quigg?”
“Yes, yes, I’m Belle. You found them?”
“Them?”
“Marlon and Louie.”
“We found Mr. Quigg.”
“Not Louie? Marlon went out walking him last night, they never came back. I’ve been frantic, when I called you people, you said it couldn’t be a missing person until—” She stopped, put a hand to her mouth. “Marlon’s okay?”
Milo sighed. “I’m sorry, he’s not.”
“He’s hurt?”
“Ma’am, this is hard to—”
Belle Quigg said, “Oh, no, oh no no no no no .”
“I’m so sorry, Mrs. Quigg—”
She raised her hands and yanked down, as if tugging clouds from a cruel clear sky. Glared at us. Gasped. Then she began beating Milo on the chest.
Small woman pummeling big man isn’t much of an assault. Milo bore it until she ran out of steam and dropped her fists to her side.
“Mrs. Qui—”
Her head flopped to one side, skin blanched to a bad shade of gray. Eyes rolling
Gloria said, “My nose is stuffed.” She tried anyway. “Sorry, I’m not picking up anything but you could be right about the texture.” Smiling. “Unless someone’s using a real bad conditioner.”
She produced an evidence bag. “I know the techies generally do hair unless we’re running drug screens on the shaft, but we happen to have an intern from the U. doing DNA analysis on all kinds of critters. Want me to take it, maybe I can get you something on species and breed?”
“Appreciate it.”
Gloria took another look at Quigg. “Poor guy goes out for his nightly dog-walk and this happens?” Frowning. “So where’s the canine in question? Maybe Fido got left at home.”
Milo said, “Or maybe our bad guy took a live trophy.”
“Rover stands by and watches his master get murdered and then goes off willingly with the perpetrator? Not a protective breed, that’s for sure.” Catching her breath. “Or the poor thing’s lying somewhere looking like Mr. Quigg.”
“Uniforms checked the immediate area but we’ll go over it again after the techies arrive.”
Gloria scanned the dirt. “Don’t see any prints in here, dog or human.”
“Our bad guy cleaned up carefully.”
“Just like the first time,” she said. “To me that makes it even more repulsive.”
I said, “I don’t see him cleaning every inch of ground all the way to Sunset.”
Milo cell-phoned Reed. “Moses, keep the entire area tight, no one in or out until whoever’s on duty helps you examine every inch of dirt between Sunset and the gate for prints. I’m talking tire, foot, paw, anything.”
Clicked off without waiting for an answer.
Gloria bent back down and turned out Marlon Quigg’s remaining pants pockets. “Empty.” Back on her feet, she photographed the scene at multiple angles, ending with close-ups of the folded brown shirt.
She inspected the label. “Macy’s generic, size M.”
No blood; the garment had been removed prior to the cutting.
She got back down near the body, started rolling it. Stopped and reached under and drew something out.
Piece of paper, folded into a packet, corners perfectly square.
She photographed it closed, then placed a sterile cloth under it and spread it open.
White, standard letter size. In the center, a simple message:
?
CHAPTER
14
M arlon Quigg’s apartment was in one of the nice buildings we’d passed.
A nearby traffic light would’ve provided easy crossing of Sunset. The walk to Temescal Canyon would’ve been pleasant.
The complex was designed to resemble an enormous hacienda, tricked out with a too-red tile roof, a false bell tower, and a front loggia that shaded arched entry doors. A tile-roofed carport faced the main structure across a broad, flagstone court.
Eight slots in the port. Quigg’s Kia sat in Number Two. Quigg, B and M appeared on Unit Two’s mailbox.
Ground-floor unit in the middle of the building. I recognized the woman who answered the door because I’d just seen her photo.
Milo said, “Mrs. Quigg?”
“Yes, yes, I’m Belle. You found them?”
“Them?”
“Marlon and Louie.”
“We found Mr. Quigg.”
“Not Louie? Marlon went out walking him last night, they never came back. I’ve been frantic, when I called you people, you said it couldn’t be a missing person until—” She stopped, put a hand to her mouth. “Marlon’s okay?”
Milo sighed. “I’m sorry, he’s not.”
“He’s hurt?”
“Ma’am, this is hard to—”
Belle Quigg said, “Oh, no, oh no no no no no .”
“I’m so sorry, Mrs. Quigg—”
She raised her hands and yanked down, as if tugging clouds from a cruel clear sky. Glared at us. Gasped. Then she began beating Milo on the chest.
Small woman pummeling big man isn’t much of an assault. Milo bore it until she ran out of steam and dropped her fists to her side.
“Mrs. Qui—”
Her head flopped to one side, skin blanched to a bad shade of gray. Eyes rolling
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