at the eight inches of white stuff as a curse, something Midwesterners had to endure because of impure thoughts or because of constantly (and secretly) abusing themselves.
But now, with the socialite case solved, and with Cinihe felt certainagreeing to cooperate and clear Jill… well, it was a winter wonderland.
Whistling, he walked down the street to Cini's apartment house. Pretty co-eds all apple-cheeked and bundled-up passed him in twos and threes, their perfume lovely and wan and sexy on the night air. They probably figured he was on his way to pick up his date, he was so happy and all.
He winked at a snowman and bowed to a snow angel.
He picked up a tiny tricycle from the middle of a walk and carried it up on the porch; and he took a big chunk of icy snow and set it back in place on the snow fort from which it had fallen.
And finally
He got a running start and slid down the snow-packed sidewalk the way he had when he was a kid.
Damn near falling on his ass.
And breaking a couple of bones.
But he kept right on whistling, right on passing pretty girls, right on dreaming of holding his own pretty girl later on tonight.
There was a Domino's Pizza truck parked in a NO PARKING zone several yards from Cini's.
Mitch went up the front steps just as the Domino's kid was coming down. The kid nodded. He was hurrying. This time of night was probably his optimum time of the evening.
The hallway was positively festive, several different kinds of music fighting each other for dominance, several different kinds of meals mixing into a not-unpleasant odor of heat and sweetness.
He went up to Cini's door and knocked.
Hard to tell if anybody was inside because of all the noise in the hallway.
He knocked again, louder.
The door opened behind him.
A kid with acne and a sarcastic grin was shrugging into a Navy P-coat as he pulled his apartment door closed behind him.
'You know Cini?'
'Sure,' the kid said.
'You see her this afternoon or this evening?'
'You her dad or something?'
'Or something,' Mitch said, showing him the badge.
'Wow,' the kid said. 'What's going on?'
'I'm just looking for Cini.'
'She in trouble?'
'Not at all.'
'I always thought of her as pretty uncool, actually, way too uncool to get into any kind of trouble.'
'Uncool in what way?'
'Well, you know, she never comes over to my place when I ask her.'
Yeah, Mitch thought, that makes her uncool all right.
The kid pulled a dark stocking cap down over his ears. 'Cops. Cool.'
Mitch did some more useless knocking.
During a lull in the various symphonies, he pressed his ear to the door. Heard nothing.
He touched his hand to the doorknob.
Gave it a turn.
Unlocked.
He thought of how cautious she'd been when he'd appeared here earlier. Very suspicious. Two big imposing chains to keep him on the far side of the door.
Now it was unlocked.
Not like Cini at all.
He turned the knob. Pushed open the door.
The smell was high and sweet and he identified it immediately. Not something you mistake once its put into your personal computer.
Somebody had fouled themselves at the point of dying.
He was afraid he knew who.
From his jacket, he took a pair of gloves.
Had to be very, very careful now.
He found a wall switch and flipped it on.
She was sprawled across the couch, facing him, arms flung wide. Her head was tilted far back. Her throat had been cut. The front of her was a mess. Dried blood everywhere.
He checked out the apartment for anything else of note.
He wasn't whistling now.
Why had he ever been such a dumb sonofabitch as to whistle in the first place?
He went to the phone, even with gloves careful of touching the receiver, and called for the crime lab.
The gates had been left open.
The gates were never left open.
Jill's headlights shone on the darkness beyond the parted gates, the darkness that led up the winding drive to the even greater darkness of the great dark mansion.
She wanted to turn back. She wanted to be safe in the cozy warmth of her home.
But she had to talk to Doris, had to find out what Doris knew about Eric's murder.
She put the car in gear and started up the curving drive.
As the mansion came into view, she was struck, as she always had been, by how closed and obstinate it appeared, like an angry face. Only once, on Evelyn's fifty-fifth birthday, had the doors ever been flung wide and guests invited in. Japanese lanterns of green and gold and orange had lit the night like giant electric bugs. A small dance orchestra had played. Peter and Doris had acted like perfectly normal people living in a perfectly normal household. Even Evelyn had been kind that night, her smile, for once, seeming almost sincere.
But now the mansion was itself again; closed, hostile, impregnable as it towered against the racing clouds of the quarter moon.
She pulled up in front of the sweeping front steps and shut off lights and engine.
She took her flashlight from the seat, grasping it tightly. It could also be used as a weapon.
She got out of the car. The sub-zero weather attacked her like a hungry beast.
She crunched through the snow up to the steps, clipped on her flashlight, played it across the front of the vast house.
The massive arched front door stood open.
Once again her impulse was to flee, to run back to the safety of her own place.
She tried to convince herself that the girl Cini would tell the police the truth. But what if Cini refused? Then who would Jill turn to?
She needed to go into the house.
She angled the flashlight beam through the open door and walked up the steps.
When she reached the door, she paused, listening.
No lights anywhere inside. No sound.
Moonbeams highlighted the winding staircase that cut through the center of the house.
She walked inside, her footsteps loud and hollow on the parquet floor. She found a light switch, tried it. The electricity was off.
'Doris? Doris?'
But silence was the only response.
