“That’s where I’d do it and there’s no blood anywhere. It would have to be here.”
“Seems so. But I’m pretty damned ignorant. For instance, if you wait four or five days before you cut up a body, will there be any bleeding or will the blood be all caked?”
“That’s something to ask MacFarlane.”
Fellows moved on into the smaller bedroom, the room where the shades were up. He’d had the foresight this time to bring some envelopes and he took one from his shirt pocket as he gently pulled back the bedspread, uncovering the indented pillows. The hair was where he had left it and he carefully placed it in the envelope. He licked the flap, glued it in place, and wrote an identification of the contents on the front.
After tucking the envelope back in his pocket, he got down on his knees and peered beneath the bed and bureau. “Mrs. Banks told me there was dirt in the corners,” he said, getting up, ‘‘but there’s a lot more under the bed. I’m going to want the dust from all of these rooms, each room separate, and we’ll send that along to the lab. Better empty that vacuum cleaner too.” He made a face. “I hate working with dust, but that’s about all the guy’s left us.” He moved into the dining room and looked in all the comers and under the furniture, then opened the drawers in the buffet. The top left-hand one contained knives, forks, and spoons. There was table linen in the bottom large drawer. The others were empty. “You fingerprint the silver?”
“No.”
“He might’ve forgotten to wipe that, Sid.”
“All right. First thing tomorrow.”
In the living room, Fellows stopped by the telephone table. A blank pad stood beside the phone, and the chief regarded it thoughtfully. Wilks said, “We did the phone. It’d been wiped.”
“Something was written on the sheet above this blank sheet. There’re faint indentations on it.”
“Nothing legible. I looked.”
“Not yet, anyway.” Fellows opened the door to the attic stairs beside the tiny table, found the wall switch, and climbed the steps slowly. Wilks stayed behind and waited while the chief had a look around and came down again shaking his head. “A year’s growth of dust on the floors. They never went up there.”
“Don’t you trust me, Fred? I looked up there this morning.”
“I trust you, Sid, I’m just not the executive type. I have to try everything myself.” He led the way past the fireplace, swept clean of ashes, and he paused to look at the knife and saw still lying on the hearth where Wilks had left them. They passed into the kitchen again, having made a complete circuit and then they went down to the cellar.
The sheet that had covered the trunk and upon which the clothes had been laid was gone and the clothes themselves were neatly piled on top of the old washing machine. The trunk stood bare and open, dragged from its spot near the wall onto the bare floor by the furnace. Fellows looked it over carefully without touching it. The lid lay back and there was nothing inside it except grains of powder in the crevices. “The woman’s trunk and the woman’s suitcases, but nothing that belongs to the man.” He lifted the lid and let it fall shut, then bent and studied the old yellow initials that adorned it.
“Tell you anything, Fred?”
“Not much. The trunk belongs to the dead girl and she wasn’t married. I have to guess the man was.”
“How do you know she wasn’t married?”
“Stands to reason. These are old initials. The suitcase initials are new and they’re the same. No, Sid, the girl was single and the man was married. I’d put a fair-size wager on that.”
“Not with me you won’t.”
Fellows stared down at the trunk in the dim light of the naked bulb by the furnace. “But who is she and where does she come from? That’s the question.” Then, as if an idea had struck him, he lifted the trunk by one handle and turned it over. There, on the bottom, was a brand-new express label on which was printed in ink, “Mrs. John Campbell, 2 Highland Road, Stockford, Conn.” Wilks said, “Hey, boy,” and Fellows said, “Just happened to remember nobody looked at the bottom when the body was in it. Well, the trunk was shipped. That makes it easier.”
Wilks said, “I’ll check the stationmaster first thing in the morning. If we can find out who the girl is, it shouldn’t be hard to find the man.”
“You find out what date the trunk was shipped too, Sid. And see if anybody remembers it. I don’t guess our station would handle too many trunks.”
They left the trunk on its back and climbed the stairs again. Wilks said, “Anything else, Fred?”
Fellows nodded. He went through the living room to the telephone table and paused again at the pad. The indentations weren’t legible, but he tore the blank sheet off all the same and held it to the light. “Your inventory turn up any candles in this house, Sid?”
“Five stubs in a drawer in the kitchen. I know this place better than my own home.”
“How about iodine?”
“Medicine cabinet in the bathroom.”
“Get a candle and the largest spoon you can find, Sid.” Fellows went for the iodine and brought it to the kitchen where Wilks was lighting a candle stub and sticking it to a plate. He had laid out a big cooking spoon and Fellows carefully poured the bottle’s contents into it. “Now if you’ll heat this over the candle, Sid. Not accepted laboratory technique, but we might get some results.” Wilks held the spoon over the flame and when the iodine began to warm, Fellows held the blank sheet of paper
