I decided to ask the landlord the questionsthat raced through my mind. “So you found the body?”
“Yes, miss. Right in the middle of thefloor.”
“Is there blood on the carpet? I should thinka gunshot wound that killed someone would leave a lot of blood.” Ibent over to examine a place close to the hearth. “This damp spotmight have been a blood stain, and it looks as if someone tested itfor blood. Is that true?”
“I don’t know. The policemen didn’t tellme.”
I pulled out my detecting kit and used thepencil inside to make notes. “Police or detectives?”
“Well, first a policeman in a uniform came,and then two detectives followed. They showed me theiridentification. After that a lot of other men came and also awoman. They examined the body, I guess. I couldn’t really see whatthey did.”
“Did you stay in the room?”
He pointed. “In the corner. No one asked meto leave so I stayed. The woman took a lot of pictures.”
I paused, wondering if Mr. Kostitch mighthave learned something useful. “How old a man do you think hewas?”
“The dead man? Forties, I guess. Don’t knowhis height, but he wasn’t fat.”
“Did he wear a coat?”
“No, just a suit coat, shirt, tie, youknow.”
“Did you hear what the detectives or theother examiners said?”
“Sometimes.” He hurried on. “I didn’teavesdrop, but, like I said, I stayed in the corner. So many goingin and out, I wanted to keep out of their way.”
“Did they find any identification on the deadman?”
“Yes, they pulled out a wallet from hispocket, said there was money still in it, so he hadn’t beenrobbed.”
“Did you hear his name or address?”
He scratched his head. “Andrew. I think Iheard Andrew. But maybe it was a last name, Andrews.”
I scribbled the name on my notepad. “Noaddress?”
“They said he didn’t live in SanFrancisco.”
“Any idea where he did live?”
“No, but he had a suitcase, so maybe hestayed in a hotel.”
My voice rose. “He had a suitcase? You sawthat? What did it look like?”
“It wasn’t close to the body but in thecorner of the room. One of those black ones with handles andwheels. Everybody has them. The detectives took it away when theyleft.”
Kostitch frowned, looking as if he were tiredof answering my questions and regretted he’d let us enter. Hadthere been a chair in the room, Tessa might have camped there toget off her feet. Instead, she sat on the marble fender. She pulledKostitch down next to her.
While Tessa kept up a running stream ofconversation with the landlord, I went through the second door andfound a short hall leading to one bedroom, a kitchen and bathroom,all just as empty as the living room except for attached fixtures.The rooms smelled of ammonia or some other cleaning product, and Ileft quickly. What a disappointment. Even the great Sherlock Holmeswould have trouble finding clues in such a place.
Finally, I stepped into the tiny hall on thelanding and glanced up the stairs leading to the upper floor. Iwondered if I ought to talk to those tenants. After all, they hadheard the gunshot and called the police.
I decided Holmes expected me to interrogatepeople, so I trudged up the stairs and knocked on the apartmentdoor. A thirty-something blonde woman opened it almost at once. Shewore jeans and a baggy sweatshirt that read, “Speak When I’mListening to You.”
I obeyed, although I fibbed. “I’m a friend ofMr. Kostitch,” I began, but she interrupted me.
“Oh, I’m glad you came up.” She reached forsomething behind her. “Would you give this to him?” She held out abackpack and kept going. “My husband found it on the stairs when hewent down after we heard the gunshot.”
Staring at the backpack in her outstretchedhands, I asked my most important question. “Did you hear only onegunshot, or more?”
“Only one. I didn’t even think ‘gunshot’ atfirst, but Eli... that’s my husband... said it was right away. Heyelled, ‘Call the police,’ and started down the stairs and I dialednine-one-one.”
I could tell she didn’t like talking aboutthe murder, probably had to answer a lot of questions by police andreporters earlier, so I quickly took the backpack from her.
“Later, Eli handed that to me because hethought it was mine.”
“Are you sure it isn’t yours?”
“Yes, mine is smaller and a different color,but Eli, like a lot of men, isn’t good with colors.”
What I now held in my hands was a man-sizeddark gray backpack, and I deduced immediately that the person whofired the shot must have dropped it when he ran out of thebuilding. I couldn’t wait to see what was in it.
“Will you give it to Mr. Kostitch for me?Tell him I’m sorry.” She gave me a tiny smile and closed the doorfirmly, as if glad to see the end of that whole episode.
Since Kostitch and Tessa still sat in theliving room, I headed for the kitchen which, thanks to afluorescent fixture in the ceiling, held sufficient light.
Grateful Tessa kept the landlord busy, Iplaced the backpack on the kitchen counter, unzipped it and foundmen’s clothing and a toiletries kit. The smaller pocket held a fewitems, including a newspaper clipping and a small photograph. Ipulled my cell phone from my purse and took pictures of them. Ifinished and was replacing all the things inside, when Kostitchfound me.
“Here, what’re you doing?” He came forwardand grabbed the backpack. “Where did you get this? You didn’t bringit in.”
“I... the lady upstairs gave it to me justnow. She said her husband found it on the stairs. Is it yours?”
“No. It must have belonged to the dead man,and the police didn’t see it. I’ll have to give it to the officerstomorrow.”
While Kostitch finished replacing the itemsinto the sack, I returned to the living room and took some picturesof the stain on the rug, in case it was blood. I also used myscissors to snip a
