“Remarkably, the only prints from the witness who discovered the body were a perfect set on the front door.”
“Witness efficiency is definitely on the uptick.”
He put the recorder back on.
“Any ideas on the mystery guests?” he asked.
“Elaine Brooks, Carl’s sister, and Zelda Fitzgerald are two. My guess is the owner’s number three.”
Sullivan went back to his case book.
“John Churchman. Lives on a boat at Hawk Pond. Inherited the house from his parents, who built it in 1972.”
“There’s an accountant in town with that name. He has an office next to Harbor Bank.”
“That’d be him. He’s been cooperative, so it shouldn’t be hard to get elimination prints.”
I looked around.
“So everybody’s prints showed up in the common areas.”
“Correct again. Be a surprise if they didn’t. Let’s go upstairs and see what other nifty things we found.”
Before he could stand I asked him where everybody was when Iku was killed. He sat back into the sofa.
“According to Dobson, Carl Brooks had returned to the City as planned after Labor Day. As did Elaine Brooks, who works at the Varick Gallery’s other place on the East Side. Sybil Shandy is still at Roger’s till Christmas, when they close for the season, but left the rental when Carl moved out. She’s got a place above the restaurant.”
“You’re talking to her?” I asked.
“She’s on the list.”
“So Bobby and Iku had the place to themselves.”
“At least on the weekends. During the week she was by herself. Can we go now?”
I followed him up the staircase to the balcony that led to the bedroom doors. He waved me into the first room.
“Here we have Robert Dobson,” said Sullivan, “as identified in testimony and corroborated by careful investigation.” He held up a Dopp kit with the name Robert K. Dobson in gold leaf on the side. “This is his bedroom, which he apparently shared with Unknown A.”
“Not Iku.”
“Unless she wore surgical gloves. Knowing what goes on in these group rentals, I wouldn’t be surprised.”
“Who’s next door?” I asked.
“Carl and Sybil, the drunks pulled naked out of a fountain in Las Vegas two years ago.”
“I thought that was Zelda’s trick.”
He looked at his book.
“I told you. Nothing here about a Zelda.”
“Look in the evidence room for a
He frowned down at his book as he jotted down the tip.
“They shoulda seen that already.”
“What about Elaine?” I said. “Did Dobson say he was living with Elaine?”
He flipped through some more pages.
“Quote: ‘Elaine and I have been off and on for years. But we’ve always been friends. You wouldn’t understand.’ I love that shit. You wouldn’t understand, you dumb fucking Ivy League–deprived cop.”
“Condescension’s on the Princeton curriculum.”
He flicked the backs of his fingers under his chin. “Fungu to Princeton.”
“Any other prints in Dobson’s room?”
“Just him and A. We checked the sheets, too, by the way, and got all the usual goodies. Also not the victim’s.”
I walked back onto the balcony and looked down at the living room, trying to see the players arrayed on the broken-in furniture. I tried to imagine who was sitting with whom. I shut my eyes and listened for their conversation, but I didn’t know enough to hear.
“To the basement?” Sullivan asked.
“Sure.”
On the way down we stopped at the kitchen so he could show me where a set of carving knives was stored in a wooden block on the counter. A set of five.
“Japanese,” he said. “Similar handle design as the murder weapon. Very sharp. The lab is tracking down the source.”
We moved on from there, stopping a few times so he could explain the little yellow cones that marked where forensics had picked up a sample or spotted something they wanted to come back and recheck. He told me they needed a warrant each time they did that, but it was almost impossible to get everything on a single pass.
“So Bobby’s cooperative,” I said.
“Not bad. His old man’s been up my ass a bit, but the DA’s been up his. It’s nice to have that broad on my side for a change.”
We went down to the basement, which was technically at ground level at the back end of the house. More colorful finger print powder and little yellow cones.
Iku’s room looked even more forlorn without her body lying on the bed. The disarray of the search and investigation showed around the edges. There was still an impression on the bed from the weight of her body.
“They searched the hell out of this room,” said Sullivan. “Nothing probative to write home about. One set of prints. Hers.”
I couldn’t help wishing I’d poked around a little myself before calling in the cops. It was an unworthy thought—unfair to Iku and the cops, but I couldn’t help it. I was bugged by a strong sense of absence, that something was missing.
“Gadgets,” I said.
“Huh?”
“Where’re the gadgets? Cell phones, laptops, iPods.”
Sullivan rested his hand on my shoulder.
“At the evidence lab, Sam. We don’t know what them things do, us hick cops, but we knows we gotta get ’em to the lab.”
I turned and looked at him.
“What was on the computer? Did you get her email?”
He still wanted to be insulted.
“Weren’t no computers. Jes’ an old cell phone. Don’t happen to have that report yet, but when I do you’ll be the first we tells.”
“Really? Great. I appreciate it.”
I quieted him back down with a grip on his meaty shoulder. He shook his head.
I walked deeper into the room, with my hands in my pockets as he’d instructed me earlier. On impulse, I tried to look behind a dresser, the only large piece of furniture in the room.
“Can I touch that?” I asked, pointing to the dresser.
He handed me a set of surgical gloves. I squeezed them on and pulled the dresser toward me. Stuffed down between the dresser and the wall was a green cable. I pulled it free.
“What’s this?” I said.
Sullivan stood next to me and bent over to look.
“That’s not a phone cord?” he asked.
“It’s a Cat 5. A phone jack is smaller. Cat 5s are used for Internet connections.”
“I’m sure it’s in the report,” he said. “We do know something about this shit.”
I reminded him that only one of us had a computer with broadband access and an email account, and a PDA. And it wasn’t me. He looked a little less defensive, but concerned. I went back to looking around the room.
“Two closets?” I asked.
