A Clean Kill

kind of feather from the underbelly of a duck or goose that was used to stuff pillows. April had a sudden horrific vision of someone pushing a pillow into Alison's dozing face. Her eyes and mouth opening as she struggled for air and freezing that way.

She shook it off and reached into her purse for the plastic gloves, tweezers, and envelopes she kept in there along with her off-duty gun, address book, gold shield, and other vital paraphernalia. She slipped on two of the gloves and used the tweezers to pick up the feather. With it closer to her face, she saw the particular kind of fuzz on the feather that confirmed it as goose down. April had seen it when she was pricing her own bedding. The fuzzy feathers were far and away the most expensive kind, but soft and lighter than air. As April studied the feather, she realized something was caught in it. About three inches long and very shiny, it looked like a human hair, and was definitely not a dog hair. The hair was not black, not dark brown. It was a light color, possibly with a reddish tone, or a honey blond, and it was coarser than baby hair.

Hairs were notoriously difficult to see when one was looking for them. On white sheets or a white sweater or a black suit—whenever it was embarrassing—hairs showed up. But in a room with many pieces of upholstered furniture and rugs on the floor, they blended. April got down on her knees and searched the floor for more hairs. She found another one at the base of the toilet, put the two together, and studied them. Maybe her eyes were playing tricks, but it almost looked as if there was a stripe in them from different dye jobs. Elated, she separated them, sealed one in an envelope with the feather, wrote on the outside where the sample came from, and took the other hair and put it in an envelope in her purse. She saw the splashes of water in the basin. She made some notes. Match w feathers from Perkins bedding. Check for. hair in drain of Wilson shower. Seconds later, she emerged from the bathroom to hand the envelope over and have a chat with Igor from Crime Scene, who never liked her getting in the middle of his work. Before she headed back to the bedroom, she checked the pillows in the den to see if the fuzzy feather in question could have come from one of them. She punched and felt them. All were stuffed with foam. She was back on the job.

Thirty-one

Lynn was hysterical. April saw right away that she was genuinely terrified. She was huddled on her bed in her room, hugging her pillow, and crying so hard she couldn't answer any of the questions Sergeant Minnow put to her.

'Sergeant, could I talk with her for a moment?' April stood in the doorway with the cups of hot water and coffee she'd asked a uniform to get for her.

'All yours.' Sergeant Minnow rose from the small chair he'd been uncomfortably occupying and looked relieved to be offered an excuse for a break. April moved away so he could escape the claustrophobic space.

Unlike the rest of the rooms in the house that April had seen, Lynn's was just big enough for a single bed, a small armoire, and a tiny table and chair. The only light came from a fixture in the middle of the ceiling. There was a sink in one corner and a bathroom with a toilet and narrow shower across the hall. The kitchen was next door on one side and the laundry room was on the other side.

After Minnow was gone, April put the coffee on the table. 'I got you coffee with milk. Is that all right?' she asked.

Lynn hiccuped and swiped at her tears with the sheet.

'Or you could have my tea.' April sat in the chair, close to the bed. 'Your choice.'

'I'll have the coffee,' Lynn said after a moment.

April handed it to her, along with a stirring stick and some sugar packets. 'I'm Lieutenant April Woo Sanchez,' April said.

'I know who you are. You talked to Alison yesterday. She told me about it last night.'

April nodded and took a long look at the girl's hair. It was blond. Not as fair as Remy's, but blond nonetheless. And it was too long to make a match with the hair on the floor of the bathroom. April thought she'd try to take one from her hairbrush just in case. 'What was her mood then? Was she depressed by the death of her friend?' she asked after a pause.

'Sure, but- she didn't kill herself. Don't think that,' Lynn said quickly. 'I know she didn't.'

'How do you know?'

Lynn started crying again. 'I just do.'

'Drink some coffee. Caffeine helps.' To illustrate the point, April removed the lid from her cup of water and stuck in a tea bag that she'd pulled from a zippered pouch in her purse. The water quickly turned brown and she sipped, still thinking about hair and feathers.

After a few moments, Lynn followed her example and began to revive. April smiled at her. 'Better?'

'A little,' she said tremulously.

'Are you hungry?' April asked.

'No, I had breakfast.'

'Good, but-let me know when you need something. We can send somebody out.' Giving her time, April slowly drank her tea and looked around at her collection of stuffed animals, shoes, magazines, T-shirts, and jeans spread out in no particular order on all available surfaces, including the floor. Lynn was no neat freak, and April was surprised that Sergeant Minnow had chosen this spot for their initial interview. Maybe he wanted to intimidate her. She also looked at Lynn's pillow. They'd have to check that, too.

After a while, Lynn said, 'It feels too big, if that makes any sense. I don't know if I can talk about it.'

'It's okay, I know what you mean. Take a few deep breaths. We have all the time in the world. We'll get there.'

Following her advice, Lynn breathed loudly, almost gasping. It reminded April of what Alison might have gone through trying to get air into her lungs during her last moments. 'That will do—you can stop now.'

Lynn hiccuped again and put the cup down.

'Okay, what happened?' April said.

'I knew something was wrong when I came back from taking the girls to play school,' Lynn said, her voice still a little shaky.

'How did you know something was wrong?' April took out her notebook.

'The door was open.'

'Which door?'

'The kitchen door.'

'You mean, it was unlocked or hanging open?'

'No, it locks automatically if it's closed right. But the door sticks, and you have to pull it hard. It wasn't shut all the way.'

'Did you close it when you left?' April asked.

' Yes.' '

'Okay, what else was wrong?' She made a note.

'The dogs were locked up. They were barking. You can hear them now.'

'They're not usually locked up?'

'No, they're always with her.' Tears squeezed out of Lynn's eyes as she tried to hold them back. 'She loved those dogs.'

'What did you do then?' April asked.

'I was afraid to go inside because of Remy.'

'What about her?'

'She called me this morning. She wanted to meet for coffee. I know I shouldn't have gone, but she sounded so upset . . .'

'You left the. house?' April looked up.

'Yes.'

'At what time?'

'I don't know, sometime around six, six thirty. I didn't think it would be a problem going that early.'

'Why was Remy upset?'

Lynn shook her head. 'She shouldn't have stayed with Mr. Wilson at the hotel, but she never listens to anybody. She told me someone followed her.'