April studied the bundle. It was tied up by the arms of a shirt like a hobo’s sack in an old movie. She didn’t want to touch it. She had a feeling that everything about this place told a story just as the crime scenes in the two boutiques where the girls had died told a story. As she contemplated the bundle, she worried about what the team was doing upstairs. What if they needed another kind of expert? What if Braun was moving things around and missing their significance? She tried to put the politics of the case out of her mind, to let the little pieces of information patter down on her like rain, while she kept her own counsel and her own focus.
She’d never seen a restraint like the straitjacket on the third floor in somebody’s home; she didn’t have a good feeling about the bundle in the basement.
She heard the sound of voices overhead. They must be going through the kitchen. Reluctantly, she reached down to pick up the bundle. As she touched the fabric, she had the kind of bad feeling that conjured up her discovery of Lily.
It seemed like a hundred years ago that April found the sleeping bag in a Chinatown backyard that held the body of the missing child called Lily. Dozens of people on the case and April had to be the one to spot the bag. The moment she unzipped it, she recognized the white and purple sneakers ten-year-old Lily had been wearing when she disappeared. She was still wearing them when April found her.
It was the shoes this time, too. April had a description of Maggie’s favorite shoes from Olga Yerger, the salesgirl turned hooker. Olga said the shoes were brown suede flats with fake alligator insets across the top and fat gold chains over the inset. Copies of Gucci, Olga added. She thought they came from a shoe store called Maraolo, and was positive Maggie wore them nearly every day because they were comfortable and went with everything she had.
The shoes had been pressed together inside the sack and fell out first when April opened the bag. They were size five and a half. In the toe of one shoe was the dark blue eye shadow. In the toe of the other was the plum lipstick. April’s heart beat double-time. She shook her head, perplexed.
The voices above were loud and angry now. April retied the bundle the way it had been and headed for the stairs. It sounded as if the two factions of the department had gotten into a serious dispute over something. What a mess.
Halfway up the stairs she began to make out the words and realized it was not Sanchez fighting with Braun or Roberts.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing in here?” The outrage in the newcomer’s voice had reached the cracking point. The guy was furious, almost crazed. He was in the hall, must have just come in. “You can’t just break into someone’s house like this!”
“Sir, if you’ll just calm down, we’ll work this out.” It was Lieutenant Braun. He was not speaking in a calming tone, and did not get the hoped-for results.
“Are you crazy? I’m not calming down. You broke into my house. You asshole. I’m going to have your head on a platter.”
“No one broke into your house. Are you the owner, sir?”
“The fuck you didn’t!”
“Are you the owner, sir?”
“Yes, I am the owner.”
“Is this yours, sir?”
“What the—?”
“I’d advise you to calm down.”
“And I’d advise you to get the fuck out of here.”
April couldn’t see what was going on. At the top of the stairs, before she came into view, she put the bundle down. Then she pushed open the basement door.
56
Jason pulled over a chair and sat down next to Camille. The dog struggled to get away from her. Before Camille realized what he was up to, Jason reached over and took the puppy onto his lap. She stiffened, but didn’t object.
“Hi there, fella.” Jason scratched the dog’s ears. Puppy climbed up and licked his face. Out of the corner of his eye Jason watched Camille. She had been rendered immobile by this new threat.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out his key ring. It was red and had a small knife-and-scissor set attached. He held out the keys to the dog and shook them like a rattle, ignoring the patient. The puppy hesitated for a second, its small body and front feet pulled back into a crouch. Suddenly it pounced on the key ring like a mountain lion. Funny dog. Jason laughed.
“Do you mind if he plays with this?” He finally acknowledged Camille.
“It’s okay.” Camille didn’t look as if it was okay at all. Behind the curtain of hair, she looked rigid with disapproval.
“This is a pretty friendly puppy. What’s its name?”
“Puppy.”
“Hunh?” Interesting choice of names.
“I had a dog a long time ago,” Jason murmured. “I had forgotten how much I miss her. What’s Puppy’s sex?”
“She’s a girl.”
Jason put the key ring on the table close to Camille. Puppy jumped at it. Jason watched Camille. She had no reaction to the knife, clearly wanted her baby back.
“Well, maybe I’ll put my keys away. It looks like she wants to come back to you again.”
Camille took the dog from Jason, then relaxed. “She’s a good dog.”
“Yes, she is. Where did you get her?”
Camille hugged her baby, regarded her fondly. “We got her from a breeder,” she said in a baby voice.
“So you knew you wanted a poodle?” Jason crossed his legs the other way. This was going to take a while.
“Oh, absolutely.” Camille kissed the dog again and again. Puppy licked her face.
“All I know about poodles is they’re very smart; they’re high-strung; and they don’t cause allergies.”
Camille laughed and freed her hands so that she could clap them. “Right on all counts. My sister had allergies when she was a child. I have them now. We figured a poodle was especially safe. So we both got one.”
Jason leaned over. “You mean you have a poodle and your sister has a poodle?” This was news to him.
Camille laughed again. “Yes, it’s the same dog, except my sister’s dog lives with her and my dog lives with me. They’re carbon copies, just like us.”
“I see,” Jason said gently. He certainly didn’t see the sisters as carbon copies, and Milicia had never mentioned having a dog. “What made you get them?”
“Oh, I was lonely,” Camille said vaguely. And Milicia thought being nice could get her back. It didn’t work. Camille shivered and pulled a strand of hair over her face.
“Was it your sister’s idea to get the dogs?”
“No, no,” Camille said fiercely. “I wanted it first. She had to come with me to get it for me.”
Jason nodded. He could see that Camille didn’t have the presence to buy a dog. “Did you both plan to get one?”
“No.” Fierce again. “I wanted the dog. Bouck didn’t want a dog. He wouldn’t get it for me. We had a big fight. My sister hates Bouck, so she got me the dog.” She paused. “She said she’d take it if Bouck wouldn’t keep it. Then I could visit it at her house.”
Jason nodded again. “So you went to the breeder,” he prompted.
Camille made her shrill, high-pitched sound that tried to be a laugh. “Yes, and my sister changed her mind. She had to have the same dog. Same color, same sex. Everything.”
“So she has a dog?” Jason asked again, just to be sure she meant Milicia had a dog.
“Oh, yes. Same dog.”