The Cold Nowhere

PART THREE

NO GOING BACK





36

Leonard Keck swung his Nike VR Pro seven-iron with a fierce chop and shot an imaginary golf ball through the tricky crosswinds toward the seventeenth green at Pebble Beach. In high-definition clarity on the eighty-inch plasma television hung on his office wall, the orange ball shot crisply across a California blue sky, shanked left toward the end of its flight, and dropped with a tiny splash into the surf of the Pacific Ocean. A groan of disappointment from the computer-animated crowd burbled out of the Bose speakers built into the wall.

‘Son of a bitch!’ Lenny shouted. He waved at Serena and Stride in the office doorway. ‘Hey, come in, guys, don’t stand on ceremony with me. Jeez, Pebble is an evil course. Doesn’t matter what kind of day I’m having, I always go in the water at seventeen.’

Lenny swirled the melting chips of ice in his drink and swallowed it down. He wiped his lips with his hand. ‘I guess you guys are too young to remember the ’82 Open, huh? Watson chipping in from the rough to beat Nicklaus? Best shot ever.’

‘I remember,’ Stride said.

Serena smiled. ‘Golf’s not my game.’

‘Oh, golf’s not a game, sweetheart,’ Lenny told her. ‘Golf’s a twenty-two-year-old black widow with big tits. You know she’s going to eat you sooner or later, but you can’t stay away. Now come on, sit, sit.’

Serena and Stride sat in two plush armchairs in front of Lenny’s desk. Lenny took several more practice swings with his club and then paced around the office with the iron braced behind his neck. He seemed incapable of sitting still. He wore a chocolate brown tracksuit and golf shoes with cleats that left dotted impressions on the carpet. He peeled off a golf glove as he walked and stripped a tan visor from his head. He didn’t dress or act like a man with money, which told Serena that he had more than enough money not to care. The only luxury item she saw on his body was a gold diver’s watch.

Lenny was medium height, burly, with a modest paunch at his waist. Too many steaks and too much beer, she guessed. He had messy graying hair, a high forehead, and a tanned face freckled with age spots. His office at the back of his Miller Hill dealership showed off his influence and connections. He had framed photographs of himself with most of the state’s top politicians and one, in the middle, taken at the White House with President Bush. His credenza featured awards from the city and state chambers of commerce, sales trophies from Ford, and Lucite deal cubes celebrating the closing of multimillion-dollar real estate finance projects throughout the region. He had an oil portrait of his wife on one wall; she was a severe woman, small and thin, wearing a fulllength lavender ball gown, nose-bleed heels, a gaudy ring twisted with diamonds and emeralds, matching earrings, and blonde helmet hair that would have stood up to a Jared Allen tackle. Her pinched frown said: I’m a country club wife, and don’t you forget it.

Lenny finally sat down. He kicked off his golf shoes and propped his stockinged feet on the desk. When he pushed a button under the drawer, the thick curtains on the south wall parted, revealing a row of windows looking out on the auto showroom, where customers browsed among the trucks and hybrids. He studied the action on the floor.

‘One-way glass,’ Lenny said. ‘I like to watch my salespeople. They never know when I’m checking them out. Keeps them on their toes. Right now, I can tell you we’ve got two people ready to buy, that twenty-something young couple and the middle-aged black guy, and the rest are browsers. After a while, you know it as soon as they walk in the door.’

The auto dealer picked up a signed baseball from his desk and tossed it up and down like a juggling ball. ‘Herbie signed this for me after the ’91 Series. Had it on my desk ever since. I got a box at the new stadium, so anytime you want tickets, I can hook you up. Ms. Dial, I like that Mustang you drove in here. If you want a new one, I can give you a hell of a deal.’

‘I’m more interested in an Explorer,’ Serena said.

‘Yeah? Well, great, I’ll bring it home at cost.’

‘Specifically, I’m interested in the one you sold to Margot Huizenfelt.’

‘Oh.’ Lenny frowned and pursed his lips like Mick Jagger. ‘Huizenfelt? She the lady who went missing last month?’

‘That’s her.’

‘Okay, sure. XLT, cinnamon metallic, comfort package. Fantastic ride. I remember the truck more than the customer. That’s the way it usually is. Real shame to have that vehicle sitting in an impound garage.’

‘The real shame is that its owner is missing and possibly dead,’ Serena said.

‘Well, yeah, of course.’

‘Margot bought the Explorer two days before she disappeared. Did you talk to her while she was here?’

‘I talk to everyone who buys one of my vehicles, Ms. Dial. Her lead salesman was Phyllis Bowen, but I thanked Ms. Huizenfelt personally for patronizing my establishment. That’s my rule, been that way ever since I opened. I may not see customers for a decade or more, but they’ll come back to me sooner or later, and in the meantime they’ll send me their family and friends. That’s the way it works. It’s a service business.’

‘Margot?’ Serena repeated.

‘What about her? What do you want to know?’

‘What did you two talk about?’ Serena asked.

‘We talked about what a great truck she was buying.’

‘Anything else?’

‘Not much. I’m a politician, Ms. Dial, and Ms. Huizenfelt is a reporter. As far as I’m concerned, everything I say around a reporter is on the record, so I’m mighty careful about what I say. As I recall, Ms. Huizenfelt spent a lot of time admiring some of the things I have here in my office, and she made a few comments about the money I’ve earned in my life. I gather she isn’t a big fan of people with money, and that’s okay. I started out with nothing and now I’m one of the wealthiest people in the state. I got here through hard work and street smarts, and anyone else in this country is welcome to do the same. Meanwhile, you won’t find me bitching about the pensions we pay for public servants such as yourselves. You earn every dime, and Jesus loves you for what you do.’

Stride leaned forward and put his elbows on Lenny’s desk. ‘We were thinking that Margot had other things on her mind when she talked to you,’ he said.

‘And what would that be, Jon?’

‘Prostitution.’

Lenny rolled his eyes. ‘You’re still on that wild goose chase? I thought K-2 would have talked to you about that. Look, I’ll be the first to say that I have a fairly libertarian philosophy about what a woman chooses to do with her own body. My feeling is, if a woman wants to make money with the parts that God gave her, I say more power to her. As for the men, that’s between them and their wives. I don’t really see that it’s any of my business. Or yours.’

‘Solicitation is still a crime,’ Stride said.

‘So is murder,’ Serena added.

Lenny took his feet off the desk. He gave up on his salesman’s face and adopted his politician’s face instead. He could be intimidating when he wanted to be. ‘Are you suggesting I had something to do with this lady’s disappearance? She accused me of buying hookers and I got rid of her? That’s crap. You drag my name into this and you will regret it.’

Stride glanced at Serena. ‘I don’t think Jesus loves us anymore.’

‘I guess not,’ she said.

‘Look, Jon, we’ve butted heads over the years,’ Lenny went on. ‘Doesn’t mean I don’t like you. I do. You and me, we’ve got a lot in common. We’re both Duluth lifers. We both lost women we love. We’ve both been hunting with K-2, and we know the police chief of this great city couldn’t shoot a shotgun straight to save his life. When I come down hard on you, it’s not personal. It’s politics. And in this case, I’m telling you both that you are making a mistake, and I don’t want it to blow up in your faces.’

‘We’re not here to accuse you of anything, Mr. Keck,’ Serena said. ‘We’ve just got a chain of events that makes us uncomfortable.’

‘How so?’ Lenny asked.

‘Let me spell it out for you. A few months ago, Margot wrote an article about an under-age prostitute. From what we know, this girl has been in bed with at least one man with serious resources, someone who wouldn’t want the world to find out he’s been sleeping with a teenage girl. He may not be the only one. In fact, there are rumors of a prostitution ring operating among wealthy professionals in the city. Have you heard anything about that?’

‘Not a word,’ Lenny replied. His face was stone.

‘Just over a month ago, Margot came here to buy a new truck. She didn’t go to a dealership close to home. She came to you. Two days later, she began trying to find Cat, the same girl she interviewed a few months ago. In fact, she was with Cat’s aunt on a Saturday evening in Duluth, and the kid who saw her there, Curt Dickes, called you when he saw Margot that night. The very next day, Margot disappeared, and someone started coming after Cat. Just a few days ago, someone chased Cat as she was leaving a party that you hosted. Do you see why we have questions?’

‘Sure I do,’ Lenny agreed. ‘It sounds fishy to me, too. All I can tell you is that Margot bought an SUV from me. That’s all. As for this unfortunate young girl, I’ve never met her, and I sure as hell have never slept with her.’

‘She was at your party,’ Stride said.

‘When I left that party, the only girl there was my own saleswoman, Phyllis, and Phyllis is not exactly the hooker type. If this Cat arrived later, or any other girls, it’s none of my concern. I’d strongly suggest that it not be any of your concern either, Jon. Call that friendly advice, okay? When I have to, I can play dirty, because politics is a dirty game. Before you play against me, think about who’s living under your roof.’

‘You’re well informed,’ Stride said.

‘Better believe it, Jon.’

‘So you didn’t arrange for any girls at the party? You don’t know who they were?’

‘No and no.’

‘Curt Dickes says he set it up for you.’

‘Well, if Curt and one of my boys spread a few bucks around to grease the party, they did it without telling me. Anyway, I’m sure it wasn’t for sex. My boys are smooth. They don’t need to pay for it.’

‘What about Curt? What’s your relationship with him?’

‘I’ve known the boy for years. I know his family. Good people. Curt’s had some tough breaks, and I help kids like that whenever I can. I haven’t forgotten that I grew up with nothing. I pay Curt to hand out fliers in Canal Park. He sends customers my way. That’s the extent of our relationship.’

‘He’s driving around in a brand new Fusion that you gave him,’ Stride pointed out. ‘Is that standard compensation for handing out fliers?’

‘I loaned him a car for a few days. Big deal. His own beater is in my shop. Look, Curt’s a boy who likes to brag. If someone brags about my cars, that’s a good thing. You shouldn’t take him seriously about anything else.’

‘Why did he call you when he saw Margot driving one of your trucks?’ Serena asked. ‘He says she’d been asking around about rich men and prostitution in the city. It’s interesting that he’d feel the need to warn you about that.’

‘Curt gets some strange ideas in his head, but I’m a big boy, Ms. Dial. I can take care of myself. I already told you, Margot and I talked about her new vehicle. Whatever happened to her after that had nothing to do with me. Now if you want to talk about upgrading that convertible of yours, I’m happy to spend the rest of the afternoon with you. Otherwise, I still need to hit another tee shot at Pebble and try to keep it away from the goddamned water.’

Serena and Stride both stood up.

‘Thanks for your time,’ Serena told him.

‘For a woman who looks like you, sweetheart, I always have time. And Jon, it’s always a pleasure. I meant what I said. I like you. I’d hate to see you get into trouble. K-2 feels the same way. You get my message?’

‘Loud and clear,’ Stride said.

‘Good. Real good. Give me a call when the weather warms up. We’ll play eighteen.’





37

‘You golf?’ Serena asked, as she sprinkled chocolate on the skim foam of her cappuccino.

Stride smiled. ‘I found a body on a golf course once. Does that count?’

‘I don’t think so.’

‘Cindy golfed. She bought me clubs, but I only used them twice. They’re still in the attic.’

‘Was she any good?’

‘Cindy? Oh, yeah, she was on the golf team in college. She used to play with K-2 and Steve all the time. I don’t think they ever beat her.’

The two of them found a table in the food court of Miller Hill Mall. The crowded space smelled of caramel corn and Chinese food. Oldies from the 1980s played from overhead speakers. Stride checked his watch; it was nearly three o’clock. He sipped black coffee and watched a squealing pack of toddlers chase each other between the tables.

‘So what happened to Lenny’s wife?’ Serena asked. ‘He’s got the big painting on the wall, and he said you both lost women you loved.’

‘That’s true,’ Stride said. ‘Rebekah’s dead.’

‘Did you know her?’

‘No, I met him when she was killed. Lenny was just getting into politics back then. I have to give him credit, he was genuinely supportive when Cindy died a couple years later. I thought things would be different after that, but politics is politics for Lenny. Not long after, he was throwing up roadblocks for me again.’

‘What happened to her?’

‘She was killed during a home invasion. She and Lenny were on some Ford junket in the Keys, but Rebekah got food poisoning and came home early. She stumbled right into the burglary, and a Hmong immigrant named Fong Dao shot her in the head.’

‘Awful.’

‘Yeah, say what you want about Lenny, he was devastated. The two of them got married young, long before he made his money. Most of his friends said she was the one with the business savvy. Rebekah was the one who pushed him into politics, too. He was launching his first City Council campaign when she was murdered. At first, he said he was going to bow out, but then he changed his mind and won by a landslide.’

‘When was this?’

‘Ten years ago, right before Christmas.’

‘Was that the same winter Michaela died?’

‘Yes, Marty killed Michaela about six weeks later.’

Serena frowned. ‘Is there any way there could be a connection?’

‘I don’t see how. By the time that happened, Fong was already under arrest. He’d done time for half a dozen burglaries in St. Paul, and he was on our radar after a couple similar crimes here in the city. We found the money and jewelry from the burglary in Fong’s apartment, plus the gun that was used to kill Rebekah.’

‘What about accomplices?’ Serena asked.

‘Fong was a loner, except for a girlfriend. If Fong thought he could cop a better deal by ratting out an accomplice, he’d have done it in a heartbeat.’

‘Lenny never remarried after the murder?’ Serena asked.

‘No, but he obviously didn’t take a vow of celibacy.’

‘You think he’s lying about prostitution?’

‘I do,’ Stride said. ‘Don’t you?’

Serena nodded. ‘Yeah, if there’s some kind of upscale hooker network operating in town, he’s part of it. I also don’t think it’s a coincidence that Margot started hunting for Cat right after her sit-down with Lenny. She figured out something and wanted Cat’s help in proving it. The question is, would a prostitution scandal really be enough to end Lenny’s political career? It’s embarrassing, but politicians have survived worse.’

‘Not if the prostitute was a kid,’ Stride said.

‘Is that worth killing over?’

‘Lenny’s more powerful than the mayor up here. You think he’d give that up over a one-night stand with a teenage hooker? I think he’d do just about anything to save his neck, and it wouldn’t be hard for Lenny to find somebody to do the dirty work for him.’

Serena inclined her head toward a woman who was picking her way through the mall crowds toward them. ‘Well, let’s see what Lenny’s employees say about him. That’s Phyllis Bowen, the woman who sold Margot the SUV.’

The two of them stood up to shake Bowen’s hand as she joined them. The saleswoman from Lowball Lenny’s dealership eyed the people around her, as if she was afraid to be recognized with two police officers. When Stride offered to buy her a cup of coffee she shook her head. Instead, she put a paper lunch bag on the table, but she didn’t open it. She sat down opposite them and fidgeted in her chair.

‘I appreciate your meeting us, Phyllis,’ Serena told her.

Bowen shrugged. It was obvious that she didn’t want to be here. ‘I hope this doesn’t take long. I took a late lunch.’

‘We just have a few more questions.’

‘I already told you what I know. Margot bought an Explorer from me, end of story. She drove her last truck into the ground; it had like two hundred and fifty thousand miles on it.’

‘Did she say why she came to you? I mean, why not shop closer to home? There’s a Ford dealership five minutes from her place in Grand Rapids.’

‘Nobody can touch the deals here. We get buyers from all over. Everybody knows Lenny.’

‘Yes, they do,’ Stride said. ‘So tell us about him.’

Bowen fingered the paper bag, making it crinkle. ‘Lenny says the dealership is a family. Family don’t tell stories on each other.’

‘I appreciate your loyalty, but we’re investigating a disappearance and at least two murders.’

‘I don’t know anything about that.’

‘Maybe not, but you can help us. What’s it like to work at Lenny’s dealership?’

Bowen’s lips bent into a frown. ‘It’s a boys’ club. Big deal.’

‘You’re no boy.’

‘I’m the token woman,’ she said. ‘They don’t want blonde bombshells working the floor. Too many male buyers go straight to them. I guess I was plain enough to fly under the radar.’

Bowen wasn’t unattractive, but Stride knew she wouldn’t turn men’s heads. She was in her early thirties, tall and skinny, with brown hair cut in a bob. Her nose was slightly too big for her face and had a slight hawk-like droop at the tip. Her chin made a severe point. She would blend into a crowd, not stand out from one.

‘You can see why I’d get the up when a woman like Margot turned up in the showroom,’ Bowen added.

‘The up?’ Serena asked.

Bowen smiled. ‘Customer walks in, one of the salesman gets up. Anyway, nobody wanted her. I got the last laugh, because I made the sale.’

‘You must do pretty well,’ Stride said. ‘You were at the party on the Frederick this past weekend for the top salespeople, right?’

‘That’s right. Most of the younger salesmen don’t get the fact that car buyers aren’t looking for slick. They want solid, steady, dependable, trustworthy. That’s me.’

‘How was the party?’ Stride asked.

She rolled her eyes. ‘Painful, but not optional. Booze. Dirty jokes. More booze. I was happy to get home to my husband and my kids.’

‘What time did you leave?’ Stride asked.

‘Eleven fifteen. I ate the steak dinner at the Radisson, and I stayed on the boat long enough to collect my trophy, and then I was gone.’

‘Did you hear anything about girls at the party?’

Bowen opened the lunch bag and took out a juice box. She stuck in a straw and sucked up apple juice, making dimples on her cheeks. Some of the juice spilled onto the table when she put the carton down.

‘Look, these guys are my colleagues. I have to work with them. I’m not the kind to go running to a lawyer if things get rowdy. I don’t want it getting back to them – or to Lenny – that I’m raining on their parade, you know?’

‘We’ll try to keep your name out of it,’ Serena said.

‘Okay. Fine. Yeah, of course, there were girls. There are always girls. Everybody knows what to expect at the winners’ party. That’s why I make a discreet exit every year before the action starts.’

‘Does Lenny know about it? Does he set it up?’

Bowen squeezed her lips together. ‘I have no idea. I saw him leave early. Okay? For all I know, this is something the boys cooked up on their own.’

‘Hard to imagine anything happening at Lenny’s party that Lenny doesn’t know about,’ Stride said.

Bowen said nothing, but her eyebrows twitched upward slightly, as if to say: No kidding.

Serena leaned forward with her elbows on the table. ‘Phyllis, did Margot ask questions about any of this? Did she talk to you about Lenny paying for prostitutes?’

Bowen played with the straw on her juice box. She craned her neck to watch the mall crowds, but she still said nothing.

‘Margot disappeared right after she bought that truck,’ Serena said.

‘You think I want to risk disappearing too?’ Bowen snapped.

‘Are you scared? Did Lenny threaten you?’

The saleswoman exhaled in disgust. ‘Let’s just say that Lenny had the same questions you did. He wanted to know what Margot said to me. I told him what I told you. She bought a new Explorer. We talked about gas mileage and air bags and towing capacity. That’s all. Why would she talk to me? She knew she was going to see Lenny.’

‘She did?’

‘You buy a car, you talk to Lenny. That’s the way it works. Margot said she was really looking forward to meeting him.’

‘So she knew that walking in the door?’ Serena asked.

‘Oh, yeah. It was one of the first things she said. She wanted to make sure Lenny was around that day.’

Serena and Stride shared a glance.

‘What did Lenny say when the news broke about Margot’s disappearance?’ Serena went on. ‘It must have come up between you.’

Bowen hesitated. ‘He made a joke.’

‘What joke?’

‘He said, who would kidnap a woman like Margot and leave behind that great truck?’

‘That’s it?’

‘That’s it,’ she said.

Serena shook her head. ‘I feel like you’re not telling us everything, Phyllis.’

Bowen looked frustrated. ‘It’s gossip. It’s no big deal.’

‘What is?’ Serena asked.

‘Margot made an off-hand comment. That’s all. It’s nothing. I didn’t tell Lenny about it.’

‘What did she say?’

‘We were closing the deal, and she said something about seeing Lenny at a restaurant with a girl who looked like she was straight out of a college dorm. She made a crack like, “I guess he can afford the best.”’

‘Did you say anything back?’

Bowen frowned. ‘It was stupid. I wish I hadn’t said anything at all.’

‘What did you say?’ Serena repeated.

‘I laughed. I said, “Yeah, the younger, the better.”’





38

Maggie parked her Avalanche in front of the Seaway Hotel.

She hopped down and spotted an old man who went by the nickname Tugtug in a lawn chair pushed against the building wall. He had a coffee can between his legs and a sheepskin throw wrapped around his shoulders. Tugtug, who was blind, wore wraparound sunglasses and a camouflage bandana, and his scraggly hair and beard were snow white. He spent half his life at the Seaway and the other half outside City Hall, begging for handouts in both places.

‘Afternoon, Sergeant,’ Tugtug greeted her cheerfully. ‘How’s The World’s Smallest Policewoman this afternoon?’

‘You know, Tugtug, you say you’re blind, so how come you always know it’s me?’

Tugtug pointed at her truck by the curb. ‘I know that engine. You’re like some kind of crazy-ass NASCAR driver. One of these days, you might think about braking before you actually get where you’re going. I hear other drivers appreciate it.’

‘Uh huh. So how are you? Been a while since I’ve seen you.’

‘Been even longer since I seen you,’ Tugtug replied.

‘Well, I walked into that one. You warm enough? It’s almost dark.’

‘Yeah, manager says I can slip into one of the empty rooms tonight.’

‘How’s the coffee can business?’

‘A little slow, since you asked.’

‘How about one of my coupons?’

‘That would be much appreciated.’

Maggie reached into her jacket pocket. She didn’t give cash to beggars, because she knew it went straight into drugs and liquor bottles. Instead, she’d set up an account with a local diner, and she printed up special coupons for free meals that she passed out to the homeless around the city. Each month, the restaurant billed her. It was a private thing; she hadn’t even told Stride about it. She dropped a coupon in his coffee can, and Tugtug gave her a brown-toothed smile.

Nobody knew where he got the nickname. He claimed not to remember himself.

‘What brings you to our little Showplace by the Shore, Sergeant? I haven’t smelled any dead bodies lately. Nothing but the usual puke, weed, piss, and BO.’

‘Actually, I’m looking for Dory Mateo,’ Maggie said. ‘You know her?’

‘I do, but you won’t find her here.’

Maggie looked at him in surprise, but Tugtug was more reliable than a Garmin. ‘No?’

‘No, I heard her whiz by me this morning. Breathing hard. She ran toward the bank and kept running. She ain’t been back.’

‘You’re sure it was Dory?’

Tugtug cocked his head, as if the question were an insult.

‘She say anything to you?’ Maggie asked.

‘Not a word, and Dory usually has a couple coins for the coffee can, too. Not today.’

‘Was anyone asking about her?’

‘Just you.’

‘How about strangers coming or going?’

‘Well, it’s not like visitors generally introduce themselves. One gentleman left in a hurry. Couldn’t have been more than five minutes after Dory hightailed it. I said hello, but he didn’t say anything back.’

‘Do you remember anything about him?’

‘He smell a bit like de islands.’

‘What?’

Tugtug put a finger on the side of his nose. ‘I caught a whiff of coconut.’

Maggie laughed. ‘Well, you’ll catch a whiff from me, too, but that’s Hawaiian Tropic shampoo, not Jamaica, mon. Anything more specific?’

‘Sorry. I pay more attention to the ones that fill my coffee can.’

‘Okay, thanks, Tugtug. See you around.’

‘Wish I could say the same, Sergeant,’ he replied.

‘Damn, I walked into it again.’

Maggie headed into the Seaway lobby and jogged up the stairs to the second floor. If Tugtug said Dory wasn’t there, then Dory wasn’t there, but she wanted to check anyway. The hallway was empty, but she heard noises behind the doors. Loud television. Shouting matches. Sex. She’d always thought of this place as a crossroads for desperate lives, and it didn’t surprise her at all that Dory had wound up here.

She remembered seeing Dory shortly before Michaela was killed. Dory was still no more than twenty years old then, living in a garage apartment in a house owned by friends of Brooke’s parents. Somewhere, Dory had gotten money for a new stash of drugs, and she’d snorted until she was nearly catatonic, with blood running from both nostrils.

Even in her drugged state, Dory knew that something bad was coming. I told Marty to stay away from her. I said she was sleeping with Stride, but he said he’d kill them both. One day later, Michaela and Marty were dead. Like an awful premonition come true.

Maggie approached Dory’s door. When she saw that it was half-open, she stopped and listened. The room was quiet, but she was cautious. Every Duluth cop was cautious about Seaway doors. More than twenty years earlier, a team of officers had tracked a suspect to a second-floor room at the hotel and faced a hail of gunfire as they tried to arrest him. One cop was wounded by a shot to the chest. Another died of a bullet to the head.

She nudged the door open with the heel of her boot. It was a tiny room, and it was empty; there was nowhere to hide. Dory hadn’t taken anything with her when she left. Her clothes were strewn across the bed. The bottom drawer in the rickety dresser against the wall was open. The window to the street was closed, and the room smelled of stale smoke.

Maggie stood in the middle of the room with her hands on her hips. She had a bad feeling. Why did Dory run?

She went to the window and saw a dusting of cigarette ash on the ledge. Her eyes flicked to the open drawer of the dresser near the floor. It was only open six inches, enough to see a messy stash of cheap lingerie. Underneath a pair of white panties, a glint of rosewood jutted over the laminate surface of the drawer. Her breath caught in her chest. She squatted and pushed the underwear aside with her finger, and what she saw was the slight hook on the rosewood handle of a knife.

The handle was dark with stains, and beyond it, the steel blade was crimson with dried blood. She recognized the knife. It was a Victorinox chef’s knife, part of an expensive set.

It was the knife that killed Kim Dehne.