“I need to say something,” I said.
“Go on.”
“I know it’s a sign of respect to open the door for a woman, but it’s too much. Please don’t take it the wrong way, but I can manage my own door from now on.” And with that, I opened the car door and got out and closed it behind me.
Now what?
Giovanni exited his side of the car, and when I turned to see how he’d taken what I just said, his hand was over his mouth and all I could see was his backside.
“Are you laughing at me?” I said.
“I’m sorry.”
“What’s so funny?” I said.
“You are.”
“In what way?”
“You are so different.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I said.
“I’ve never met another woman quite like you.”
We walked up the path that led to my front porch, and when I glanced in his direction, he still had a look of amusement on his face. I reached for the door and turned.
“What is it that you want from me?” I said.
He cupped his hand beneath my chin and leaned in and stared into my eyes for a moment and then gave me a kiss, but not on the lips—on the cheek of all places, which made me feel like I’d just bid a fond farewell to my brother, if I had one.
“See you tomorrow,” he said.
And with that, he turned and went.
CHAPTER 30
“He kissed you?”
I nodded.
“If you can call it that.”
I felt like a teenager who couldn’t wait to give the scoop to her girlfriend.
“And what did you do?” Maddie said.
“I’m not sure, it all happened kinda fast.”
Maddie and I had just finished jujitsu class and were on our way to her lab. Her eyes were lit up like a sparkler on the Fourth of July.
“Well, did you kiss him back or what?” she said.
“On his cheek? Wouldn’t that seem a bit strange?”
She popped a bubble with the green apple-flavored gum she swished around inside her mouth.
“Girl, you should have slid your face over a few inches and gone in for the real deal. You know he wouldn’t have said no.”
“I imagine one day our lips will make a connection and when they do it will be first-prize-at-the-fair good. But I won’t know for sure until that happens.”
She smacked me on the shoulder, tossed her head back and laughed.
“Good for you,” she said. “I can tell you’re looking forward to it.”
“You don’t think it’s a big deal?”
“Why would it be?”
“I just got out of a relationship a week ago Maddie. Shouldn’t I feel bad or something?”
“Why, because you think it’s too soon?” she said.
“Isn’t it?”
“If he did kiss you, or tried something more—would you regret it?”
I shook my head.
“Well then, there’s your answer,” she said.
“Maybe you’re right.”
“I need to meet this guy though. Then I can tell you how I really feel.”
We arrived at the lab and went in. Maddie walked over to her desk and opened a file.
“Okay, this is what I wanted to show you,” she said.
“What am I looking at?”
“Hair follicles.”
“These were found in the suspect’s car, right?”
She nodded.
“They’re an exact match to the last two victims,” she said.
“I can’t believe it.”
“It proves they were both in his car.”
“More than that,” I said. “We have our killer.”
“Maybe.”
“What do you mean?”
“When I took a close look at the hair found in the car, I noticed something unusual,” she said. “It’s just a minor thing—but it’s been on my mind. Usually when hair is found like that, it’s a secondary transfer.”
“Meaning?”
“A piece that’s fallen out on its own and attached itself to whatever is there—the seat, fibers in the carpet, a floor mat, etc. If the hair falls out naturally the root has a club shape which is easy for me to see. If the killer yanked it out on the other hand, the root is stretched and sometimes broken. Neither applies to the strands of hair I tested.”
“Are you suggesting they might have been planted?” I said.
“All I know is, both strands of hair had been cut like he used scissors to remove the individual pieces.”
“He never did that with any of his victims. Why would he start now, and why leave just a few strands of cut hair in the car? That’s sloppy—careless, and it’s not like him at all.”
CHAPTER 31
I left the lab and placed a call to Giovanni.
“I need a favor,” I said.
“Name it.”
“I want the address of the guy they have in custody for the Sinnerman murders.”
“You heard the news then?”
“I just left Maddie’s lab,” I said.
“Can you hold on a minute?”
I held for about a minute and a half and then Giovanni returned to the line.
“525 Spruce Street,” he said. “In some condos. Number nine. Should I ask why you want it?”
“Better if you didn’t.”
I thanked him and ended the call. By now I was sure everyone at the station had broken out the champagne to celebrate the capture of Sinnerman. But even with the evidence stacked a mile high against him, I had to be sure.
The door at 525 Spruce Street #9 was unlocked, which was convenient, and at present no one was there. I expected forensics had already come and gone along with Park City’s finest. I knocked just in case he had roommates or a wife, but no one answered, so I went in. The living room was cluttered with all kinds of newspapers, magazines, and wadded-up computer paper that rested on the cheap blue plush carpet.
In the corner of the room was a fish tank that looked like it hadn’t been cleaned in a while. A guppie floated upside down at the top. The walls in the room were adorned with posters from what I presumed were his favorite bands: The Grateful Dead, The Doors, and The Rolling Stones. The sink in the kitchen was full of dishes with hardened food stuck to them, and when I opened the fridge, it was barren except for a couple beers and a few to go boxes.
I felt a strange sensation in my leg and jerked back. A fluffy grey cat that was the width of three cats leapt onto the counter and eyed me curiously. I reached over and lifted her off the counter and stroked her thick fur. “What’s your name then?” I said. She nuzzled up against me and purred, and then I released her back on the floor. She turned and walked down the hall toward a bedroom. I followed. It was the only other room in the house besides a Cracker Jack-sized bathroom. The queen-sized bed was hoisted up on a set of cinder blocks but there was no comforter of any kind, only grey sheets and a single black blanket. On the nightstand were a stack of comic books and the only sign of organization in the entire house.
Overall the place was trashed. The guy lived like a hermit with almost no possessions to speak of which made me wonder: if he liked to take Polaroid pictures of the women, where was the camera? And on top of that, where were the little mementos he kept; as grizzly as they were, there was no sign that anyone had ever been brought here. Could he have taken the women somewhere else? I didn’t know how that was possible; it seemed he couldn’t even afford his current residence. And what if it wasn’t him—why did he have photos of the women in his car, and how did the hair get there?
CHAPTER 32
Giovanni stood in the corner of the room in my office. With his pointer finger and thumb he stroked his chin a few times and eyed the profile of Sinnerman on my wall.