Naked Prey

5

ARMSTRONG, THE COUNTY seat, came over the horizon as a hundred-foot-tall yellow concrete chimney with a plume of steam hanging over the prairie, then as a couple of radio towers with red blinking lights, then as a row of corrugated steel-sided grain elevators along a double set of railroad tracks. They followed the tracks past the elevators, past a few broken-down shacks on what had once been the bad side of town, into a quiet neighborhood of aging Cape Cod houses, all painted either white or a dirty pastel pink or blue, over a bridge labeled CROSS RIVER, and into the business district.

"What's that smell?" Del asked, as they came into town.

Zahn looked at him. "What smell?"

"Paper plant, or chipboard plant," Lucas said.

"Chipboard," Zahn said. "I don't smell it anymore."

"Jesus. It smells like somebody's roasting a wet chicken, with the feathers on," Del said.

"Ain't that bad," said Zahn.

"Yes, it is," Del said.

The downtown was a flat grid, mostly brick, yellow and red, with meterless curbs along blacktopped streets, three or four stoplights. Lucas could see both a Motel 6 and a Best Western, Conoco and BP stations on opposite corners with competing convenience stores, a Fran's Diner followed by a Fran's Bakery followed by a Fran's Rapid Oil Change, a McDonald's on one corner and a Pizza Hut halfway down the block, a sports bar called the Dugout.

At the heart of the town was a scratchy piece of brown grass, patched with gray snow, with a two-story, fifties-ish red-brick courthouse in the middle of it. A newer red-brick Law Enforcement Center hung on to the back of the courthouse, with a fire station even farther back.

Three cops and a couple of firefighters were outside in the cold, leaning against the walls of their buildings, smoking.

Holme's Motors was across the street from the LEC, in a metal building with a single plate-glass window looking out at a dozen used American cars. Red, white, and blue plastic pennants hung down from a wire stretched above the lot; there was just enough wind to keep them nervously twitching. Zahn pulled into the lot, and through the window they could see a man poking numbers into a desk calculator. "That's Carl," Zahn said.

Carl Holme was broad and bald-headed, with a cheerful smile. "Heard about the Negro getting hung," he said to Zahn, when they pushed through the door. "That's gonna dust things up, huh?"

"I'd raise your prices before the TV people get here," Zahn said.

"Really? You think?"

Five minutes after they walked in, they walked back out into the cold. Lucas took the Olds and Del cranked up the Mustang and they trundled behind Zahn, a three-car caravan, sixty feet across the street to the Law Enforcement Center.

The smoking cops said hello to Zahn, looked with flat curiosity at Lucas and Del. Zahn took them inside, was buzzed through a bulletproof-glass door to a reception area, where he introduced them to Zelda Holme, the car dealer's wife, a pretty, round-faced woman who was also secretary to the sheriff.

"Sheriff Anderson called and said you wanted to talk to Letty. We've got her back in the lounge," Holme said, smiling and friendly. "Come right along."

"I'm gonna take off," Zahn said to Lucas, lifting a hand. "You've got my number. Call if you need anything."

"See you later," Lucas said. "Thanks." He and Del fell in behind Holme, and as they followed her along a cream-painted concrete-block hallway, Lucas mentioned that they'd just rented cars from her husband.

"I hope you counted your fingers after you shook hands with him," she said cheerfully. "Carl can be a sharp one."

The lounge was the last door on the right, a pale yellow concrete cubicle with Office Max waiting-room chairs, vending machines, and a slender girl in jeans who had her face in an Outdoor Life magazine.

"Letty, dear?" Holme said. "You've got visitors."

LETTY WEST TURNED her head and took them in.

She was blond, her hair pulled back tight in a short ponytail. She had warm blue eyes that Lucas thought, for an instant, he recognized from somewhere else, some other time; and an almost oval face, but with a squared jaw and freckles. She wore jeans and a blue sweatshirt and dirt-colored gym shoes that had once been white nylon. A Coke can sat on an end table at her right hand. She might have been a female Huckleberry Finn, except for a cast of sadness about her eyes-a Pieta-like sadness, strange for a girl so young. Lucas had seen it before, usually in a woman who'd lost a child.

A good-looking kid, Lucas thought, except for the weathering. Her face and hands were rough, and if you hadn't been able to see her preteen figure, you might have thought she was a twenty-year-old farmer's daughter, with too much time hoeing beans.

"These gentlemen are here to see you from St. Paul," Holme said. She was stooping over like older women did when they approached younger children, her voice too kindly.

"Cops?" Letty asked.

"State policemen from St. Paul," Holme said.

"Cops," Letty said.

Lucas looked at the kid and said, "Hi," and then to Holme, "We can take it from here."

"Okay," she said. Holme looked once at Del, as though he might be carrying a flea, and went back out the door. Lucas had the impression that she might have stopped just outside, so he said to Del, "Did I see a water fountain in the hallway?"

"Let me check," Del said, smiling. He stuck his head out, looked both ways, and then said, "Nope. Nothing there." More quietly, "She's going."

THE LOUNGE HAD two candy machines and two soda machines-one Coke, one Pepsi-and smelled like floor wax and spilled coffee, with a hint of flatulence. Lucas asked the girl, "You want another Coke?"

"This one wasn't mine," she said, indicating the Coke with her elbow.

"Well, you want a first one then?"

"If you're buying," she said.

He had to smile-something about her dead-seriousness made him smile-and he got a Diet Coke for himself, tossed a can of sugared Coke to Del, and she said, "I'll take a Pepsi, if that's okay."

"That's fine." He slipped a dollar into the machine and pushed the Pepsi button.

"Where's your mother?" Del asked, as he popped the top on his Coke.

"Probably down at the Duck Inn," Letty said. "We figured I could handle this on my own."

"Yeah?" Del's eyebrows went up.

"She gets a little out of control sometimes," Letty said.

Lucas asked, "She's still your mother. We could call her."

"Not much point," Letty said. "She's probably pretty drunk by now. She's been at it since ten o'clock."

"She drinks a little, huh?" Del asked. Del had dropped onto a couch next to the door.

Letty took a delicate sip of her Pepsi, and then said, "No, she drinks a lot. Almost all the time."

"Where's your father?"

She shrugged. "Who knows? Last anybody heard, he was in Phoenix. That was when I was a little kid."

"Ah," Lucas said. "That's tough… Listen, did you talk to some sheriff's deputies this morning? Make a statement?"

"Yeah."

"So what'd you tell them?"

Her face went dark and her blue eyes skittered away from his. "About the bodies."

"Let's start right from the beginning. Last night you were in your house… "

THE NIGHT BEFORE, Letty said, she had been in bed on the second floor of the house, just across the drainage ditch from West Ditch Road. Although the windows on the north and west sides of the house had been boarded up, and the rooms closed to cut heating bills, she had her own room on the east side of the house, and still had a window.

She was in bed, asleep, when a vehicle went past the house on West Ditch Road. That never happened in the winter. The road was used by a local farmer as back access to a couple of fields, but was used mostly for ditch maintenance, and the strangeness of a passing vehicle was enough to wake her up.

"When I heard the car, I was afraid it was Mom," she said. "She was out last night and it was windy and there was a little snow and if she missed the driveway… sometimes… I don't know. If she was drinking and she tried to turn around on that ditch road, she could roll the car into the ditch or something. So I got up and looked out the window and was watching the car and it stopped up the road a way, and I thought it was starting to turn around, and I was really worried, but then I heard my mom coughing downstairs and I went and called her. She came to the bottom of the stairs and I told her somebody just went by on the ditch road and they might be lost. She came up and looked out the window and we watched it, and it stayed there for a while, and then it drove out."

"This was about midnight?"

"Two minutes after. When I woke up I looked at my clock, and it said twelve-zero-two."

"You didn't see the people?" Lucas asked.

"I didn't even see the truck, except for the lights. The wind was blowing and all I could see was snow and the lights."

"How long did you watch the lights?" Del asked.

"Quite a while. I don't know, exactly. I didn't look at the clock before I went to bed."

"You didn't see it again, after it drove out?"

"Nope. Never saw it again."

In the morning, she told them, she'd gotten up to run her trap line. She ran thirty traps up the ditch, and in the surrounding marshes, for muskrat. She'd get up at five in the morning, collect the day's catch of 'rats, reset the traps, dump the 'rats into a garbage bag, and haul them back to the house by seven. Since it didn't get light until seven-thirty or so, she'd do it all by the light of a rechargeable flash.

This morning, after she'd run the traps, she'd climbed the bank onto the ditch road to walk back to her house. She hadn't been all that curious about the car from the night before, until she saw the tracks in the snow, and the lines in the snow where somebody had dragged something back into the trees.

"What'd you think they were?" Lucas asked.

"What I thought of was bodies," Letty said, holding his eyes. "That's the first thing I thought of. It scared me in the dark-but when people throw their garbage away out here, they don't haul it down the ditch road. They just stop on the side of the highway and heave it into the ditch. They don't hide it. So I couldn't think of anything else but… bodies."

"So then… "

"WELL, IWENT back there, and I didn't see them at first, because it was still dark." Her eyes were wide now, fixed on Lucas, as she remembered and relived it. "I came to this place where there was a big square of messed-up snow with nothing in it. I just, I don't know, I guess I saw a dark thing, hanging, and I lifted up the light, and there they were. The black guy's eyes were open. Scared me really bad. I ran back out to the road and got my 'rats and ran all the way back to the house and woke up my mom. She didn't believe me at first, but then she did, and we called the cops."

"That was it?"

"Yup." She nodded and took a hit of the Pepsi.

"Did your mom go down to the trees to look?"

"No. She was afraid to. She doesn't like dead things. She doesn't even like to drop off my 'rats for me, and they're inside a bag and everything."

"What do you, uh, do with the 'rats?" Del asked.

"Sell them to Joan Wickery. She's the fur-buyer in these parts," Letty said.

"How much do you get?" Lucas asked. He'd never met a trapper.

"Depends on what it is," Letty said. "She gives me $1.75 for average 'rats, and six dollars for 'coon. Problem with 'coon is, they're smart and they catch on when you're trapping them. I have to drive over to the dump to get them. So I only go over about two days a week, get maybe two or three at the most. I can get twenty 'rats out of the ditch, and the marsh across the road, and be done before school."

"You don't have to skin them out or… whatever?" Lucas asked.

"Nope. Joan's boys do all of that. I just bring in the carcasses."

Del was fascinated. "What do they do with all the muskrat bodies?"

"Grind them up. Turn them into feed. I don't get paid for that, though. I only get paid for the fur. Joan says the carcasses pay her to keep the doors open, and the fur's her profit."

Del asked, "Feed for what?"

"Mink. Joan's got a mink farm."

THEY SAT AND looked at her for a minute, then Lucas asked, "Anything else you can tell us?"

"I hope I don't die by getting hung," she said. They all thought about that for a moment, then she added, "They twisted. Hanging there. They twisted." She made a twisting motion with her fingers.

They thought about that some more, Lucas groping for something to say that might comfort her, but he couldn't think of anything. After a moment, he asked, "Listen, why'd you think it was your mom's car going down the road?" Lucas asked. "Anything about it?"

She thought for a second, then nodded. "Yeah. It was a Jeep. I think it was. A Jeep Cherokee's got this big square red taillight… " She drew a big square taillight in the air. "And then a big square yellow light under that, that's your turn signal. Then there's a little white light which is the backup light, inside the yellow light. That's what I saw on the road. Those red taillights like my mom's, and then, when he was backing around down there, when I was afraid she'd go in the ditch, it had those white lights inside the big square yellow light-the yellow lights didn't come on, but you could see them because of the white light inside them."

"Jeep Cherokee," Lucas said.

"Yup. I didn't think of it this morning, when I was talking to the other cops."

They talked for a few more minutes, and Lucas finally smiled at her and said, "Okay. I'm out of questions."

"I got one," Del said. "I'm a city guy. How do you trap muskrats?"

She told them quickly, about the difference between feeding platforms and houses. "The houses look like little tepees made out of sticks and cattails and stuff. You see them all over on marshes. Little piles. I went down to the Cities once with my mom and I saw a place by the airport that had more houses and feeders than I ever saw in my life."

"Really." Del was charmed. "By the airport?"

"Yup. Anyway, after freeze-up, you can open the houses and some of the big feeders with a machete or a hay knife and slip a trap right inside; there's a whole bunch of rooms in a big house. So you put the trap inside, and there's a chain off the trap, and you pin that down outside the house. Then you patch the hole in the house, so it's dark in there, and they'll walk right into the trap. Then, there's a hole in the bottom of the house that leads under the ice-that's how they get around after freeze-up-and when the trap snaps, they jump through the hole to try to get away, and they drown. I use mostly Number 1 jump traps."

"So, what do you do, pull on the trap to see if there's a body…?"

She shook her head, groped in her pocket, found a pencil stub, and got a napkin. "The chain comes out of the house like this… " She drew a chain with a bigger circular link at the end. "Then you put your pin through this circle, so that the 'rat can't pull it free. But you keep the pin in the middle of the circle, when you set it, so if something hits the trap inside, it'll pull the circle against the pin. That way, you can walk up to a house and see right away if anything has hit the trap."

"Huh."

"You can usually get four or five of them out of a house. You always got to leave some breeders."

"How much do you make during a winter?" Lucas asked.

She grinned at him and shook her head. "That's not polite."

"You're a kid," he said.

"Tell that to the feds when they want their taxes."

"THINK YOU COULD give me a ride home?" Letty asked. She crushed the empty Pepsi can in her hands, and tossed it into a waste basket.

"What about your mom?" Lucas asked.

"She can always get a ride from one of her friends," Letty said. "I don't want to hang around all day."

Lucas nodded. "Okay. But let's go check with Mrs. Holme, see if they had anything else set up."

"I'd rather ride with you," Letty said. "I don't like the deputies. They give me a hard time."

"You get in trouble?"

"Mostly about driving my mom's car. But I got no other way to get around, and it's too far to walk to town."

"How old are you?" Del asked.

"Twelve," she said.

"That's a little young to be driving, don't you think?"

"Might be for some people," she said. Then, "If you give me a ride, I could show you around Broderick. I know every house in the place."

"Sounds like a deal," Lucas said.

HOLME WAS HAPPY enough to let Lucas take Letty home. Outside, in the parking lot, they decided that Del would hit the local motels, and ask about strangers driving Jeeps. Lucas would take a look at the victims' house in Broderick. Later on, they'd hook up for an afternoon snack, and then go out to the casino and talk with Warr's coworkers.

Letty listened to them talk, then told Del, "There's four motels. You want to know where they're at?"

Del said yes, and Letty started to explain the layout of the town, drawing with a piece of gravel on the blacktop, her hands rough, red, but apparently impervious to the cold. Halfway through the explanation, Lucas cut her off, and they walked over to the courthouse, found the county clerk, and bought maps of both the town and the county. Letty read the maps well enough and, with the clerk, pinpointed the motels.

Outside again, Del took off in the Mustang, and Lucas and Letty headed back toward Broderick. As they crossed the river, Lucas noticed a dense spread of ice-fishing shacks at a bend to the north. A few were simply flat-topped boxes with doors, while others were more elaborate, with pitched roofs and American flags on door poles. Then the river was behind them and they followed the railroad tracks past the pastel Cape Cods and the dwindling businesses and quickly were back on the prairie.

"You ever been out here before?" Letty asked after a while.

"Not exactly here," Lucas said. "Been over to Oxford."

"You got a gun with you?"

"Yes."

"You ever shoot anybody?"

"Maybe," Lucas said.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means you should mind your own business," Lucas said.

He tried not to be mean about it, but Letty stayed on top of him. "Don't want to talk about it?" Letty asked.

He looked at her. "Why don't we change the subject?"

She shrugged. "Okay, if you don't want to talk about it."

AFTER A WHILE, "You got any kids?"

"Two," Lucas said. "A daughter, and my wife just had a baby boy."

"What's your wife do?"

"She's a doctor."

"I'd like to be a doctor," Letty said, looking out at the countryside. The countryside reminded Lucas of a modern painting he'd once seen at the Walker Art Center as a young cop, out on a sexual assault call. The painting had been done in two colors-a narrow band of black on the bottom, a wider band of gray above it. He still remembered the name: Whistler in the Dark: Composition in White and Gray. If the artist had known about it, he could have called it Winter Landscape, Broderick, Minnesota.

"Or maybe run a beauty salon," Letty was saying. "We've got three beauty salons in Armstrong, two good ones and one bad one."

"Mmm," Lucas said.

"If I was a cop, I'd put secret agents in every beauty shop in town. Teach them to be hairdressers, but, y'know, they'd all have tape recorders and cameras hidden away. Like spies."

"Take a lot of cops," Lucas said.

"Yeah, but you'd know everything. I go to Harriet's Mane Line with my mom, and the salon ladies know everything that's going on. Everything. That'd be pretty good for a cop."

Lucas looked at her again, more carefully. "You're right. That's absolutely right. Maybe you'll grow up to be a cop."

"I could do that," she said comfortably. "Wouldn't mind carrying a gun. If I'd had a real gun this morning, I wouldn't have been scared at all. All I had was that crappy.22."

THE THING THAT made traveling across the land so strange, Lucas realized, was that you did nothing: you simply sat in the car and time passed. Driving almost anywhere else, the road moved: you went up and down hills and around curves and past houses, speed zones came and went, cars and trucks went by, and something new was always popping up. Out here, the road was dead straight, with hardly anything on it, or at the sides. Rather than whipping around a curve over the crest of a hill, and finding a town tucked away, surprising you, here the towns came up as a slowly growing lump on the horizon; you could see them, it seemed, for hours before you arrived.

Though Broderick arrived quickly enough: Lucas slowed as they came into town. "So what's where?"

"Okay. So there's the church," she said, pointing across the highway. "It used to be run by Don Sanders. He's kinda crazy and I stay away from him. For the last, I don't know, maybe two or three years, there are a bunch of women living there. People call them the nuns."

"Are they nuns?"

"A couple of them are. They wear old-fashioned dresses."

"Okay. You know them?"

"I talk to them in the diner, when I see them, but my mom says I should stay away from them because they might be lesbians. They claim that they're church people, and say that they take food and clothes to poor people."

"Do they?"

She nodded: "I guess. I got some jeans from them once. Chics. I know a couple of them, the nuns, and one of them, Ruth Lewis… I really like her. She doesn't take any shit from anyone. She says I'm as good as anybody and I should remember that."

"How about the Sanders guy? Why do you say he's crazy?"

"I just don't like the way he looks at me. I get a bad feeling."

"Like what? Like he might hurt you?"

"Like he might try to make me do something with him," she said.

"Okay." He didn't comment; he simply filed it until he knew her better. Young girls, in his experience, were sometimes psychic in their ability to pick out predators. At other times, they were capable of straight-faced accusations against the absolutely innocent. "He's been replaced by lesbians?"

"That's just my mom," Letty said. "I know that Ruth's sister is going out with a guy in town. The word is, she's no lesbian."

Lucas said, "Huh," and took another look at her, and thought she might have blushed. She hurried on, pointing over the dashboard. "Those two big yellow buildings belong to Gene Calb, he fixes up cars and trucks. He's a real good guy. If I'm out with my traps, he'll let me come in and warm up. I can't go into the bar or the cafe because sometimes I'm a little stinky, but he doesn't care. I think Mom had a crush on him once, but he's married. I heard that sometimes the lesbians drive for him, like when he needs a car delivered somewhere. I could do that, if I had a license."

"And you probably ought to wait for the license," Lucas said.

"Yeah-yeah." She pointed: "That's the bar, the guy who runs it is named Pete. Mom used to go there when Randy Pearce ran it, but she says she doesn't feel welcome anymore. She says it's a dive now, a bunch of paint sniffers from the body shop. She says they're all jailbirds."

"Are they?"

She shrugged. "Some of them been in jail, I guess, but they seem like pretty good guys."

On the other side of the highway: "The diner is run by Sandra Wolf, she's pretty nice, and John McGuire has the gas station, he's okay. And down there, right across from the barn… " She pointed down a side street, where a low rambling house sat across a graveled street from a small white barn. "… I don't know what those guys do, but if I was a cop, I'd take a close look at them."

"Yeah? Why?"

"I was walking through there, taking a shortcut back from the lake, and the guy came out of the house and yelled at me to get off his property. I was only about ten feet on it. And he's got dogs, big black-and-brown ones. He had these little paper flags around his property for a while. They said, 'Dog Training, Invisible Fence,' but I think if he sicced one of those dogs on you, that invisible fence wouldn't do any good. They'd go through it like it was, you know, invisible. "

"But all he did was yell at you."

"I thought it was pretty suspicious. I mean, he's got ten acres there, and I was about three steps on it."

"What's the guy do for a living?"

"Works at Calb's. Sometimes he's got a woman in there. I've seen a couple of them, different ones. He sure does keep you off his property."

They were coming to the north end of town, and the house where Jane Warr and Deon Cash had lived. Two sheriff's cars were parked outside now, along with one of the BCA cars from Bemidji.

"If you want to stop, I can wait," Letty said. "You might want to ask me some more questions after you look inside."

HE WAS BEING steered, Lucas thought-she'd shown signs of the female steering gene during the interview at the LEC, and even more on the way to Broderick. On the other hand, she was right. He pulled in and parked. A sheriff's deputy stepped off the porch and walked toward them. Lucas got out, said, "I'm Davenport, with the BCA."

The deputy nodded. "Okay. One of your guys is inside."

Lucas stuck his head back inside the car and said "Wait," shut the door, and followed the deputy up to the porch.

"Where'd you get the kid?" the deputy asked, bending down a bit to get a look at Letty. She lifted a hand to him.

"She was downtown making a statement. You know her?"

"Sure. I know everybody around here. She's a pretty interesting kid. Don't let no grass grow under her feet, that's for sure. Gonna wind up rich."

"Got a nice line of bullshit," Lucas said.

"First thing you notice," the deputy said. He pushed the door open and Lucas stepped into the house, into an entry with a coat closet to one side. He continued into a living room, where one of the BCA guys he'd been introduced to that morning was standing at the bottom of a double-wide staircase, talking on a cell phone. He saw Lucas and held up a finger. Lucas nodded and looked around.

The place smelled of macaroni, cheese, marijuana, and blood, not a new smell in the few hundred houses he'd been through on homicide cases. To his right, in the corner, was a wide-screen Panasonic television, and on a table next to it, a big Sony. A game console was plugged into the Sony, while the Panasonic had boxes for a DVD and satellite dish. A love seat and a leather chair faced the TVs.

Straight ahead, behind the BCA guy, on the other side of the staircase landing, a hallway led to the kitchen. Lucas could see a breadmaker sitting on a counter next to a microwave.

To the right, an archway led into another room, with a dining table in the center of it. The table was stacked with boxes, most of them from small electric appliances. Fifty or sixty magazines, mostly on sex, European cars, or travel, were in heaps along one wall. A Bose Wave Radio sat upside down under the table, as though it had fallen off; it was still plugged into a wall socket. A set of earphones, one earmuff broken off, lay on the other side of the table, along with a generic-brand bottle of ibuprofen. A box of Wheat Thins sat on top of the litter of boxes on the table.

The generally upset state didn't have the look of deliberation, of a search-it simply looked like bad housekeeping.

"Hey… " The BCA guy came up behind him. "Look at this." He led the way to the kitchen. On the way he said, "I'm Joe Barin, by the way, we were introduced… "

"This morning," Lucas said.

"Here," Barin said. "Be careful where you put your feet. We've got some blood spatter."

He was pointing into a wastebasket on the floor by the kitchen door. When Lucas looked inside, he saw two tiny Ziploc-type bags, the kind used by hardware stores to hold small collections of screws, washers, cotter pins, and the like, and by dope dealers to parcel out measured amounts of cocaine, heroin, and crystal methadrine. There were no cotter pins in sight.

"You pull one out?"

"Not yet. You can see there's some residue. I wouldn't stake my child's life on it, but it's coke."

"They were dealing?"

"We looked around, can't find any more baggies. So maybe just using. Or maybe we'll find more stuff later… and then, we've got these clothes." He pointed to another corner, at a heap of clothing. "It's all cut to shreds. This is where the killer cut the clothes off them."

"So he comes in with a gun, cuffs them up, tapes them up, then cuts the clothes off them."

"Beats the shit out of the guy, of Cash."

"Beats the shit out of Cash, and then drags them both out the door, and throws them into his truck, and takes them down the road, and hangs them."

"Yeah."

"Tough guy."

"Fruitcake."

LUCAS LOOKED AROUND the kitchen for a few more seconds: nothing for him here, that he could see. The crew might get something. "What's upstairs?"

"Three bedrooms and two bathrooms," Barin said. "One of the bedrooms doesn't look too used. One of the other ones has a double bed, and there's some clothes hanging in a closet, a man's clothes, and some stuff in the bathroom, but it doesn't look like it's been used lately. The clothes are not Cash's, they're for a bigger guy. The third bedroom, the big one, was their regular bedroom. Clothes for both Warr and Cash. Lots of clothes. Lots of cashmere."

"Let's get the crime scene crew over quick as we can," Lucas said. "Tear this place apart. If they were dealing, that would explain a lot. Could be punishment killings."

"Okay." Barin hesitated. "I don't exactly understand the chain-of-command here… "

"Where's Dickerson?"

"Still out at the scene, I guess."

"He's in charge on your side, I'm running my own thing. What I just suggested was… a suggestion." Lucas grinned at him. "Of course, I do talk to the commissioner five or six times a day."

Barin shrugged. "I'm not big on bureaucracy. Tearing the place up is the right thing to do."

"The guy with me, Del, knows every drug hideout invented by modern man. I'll bring him by later on."

"Good enough."

The deputy came to the door. "This young lady… " Lucas and Barin turned. Letty was standing behind the deputy, looking around with interest. "… says she has to use the bathroom."

"Uh… not here. I'll run you home," Lucas said. To Barin: "So you know what you're doing. I'll get Del up here."

"Okay." Barin was looking curiously at Letty. "Is this the young lady who found… " He tipped his head to the north.

"Yeah," Lucas said.

Barin said, "For a second, I thought she might be your daughter. She's got exactly your eyes."

"ICAN WALK back to the cafe," Letty said to Lucas. "It's only two blocks."

"I'll take you," Lucas said. "C'mon."

On the way out, Letty pointed at the wide-screen Panasonic television in the corner. "That used to be in the window at Lute's. You know how much that cost?"

"Thousand, fifteen-hundred?"

Letty snorted. "It was on sale for nine-thousand, nine-ninety-nine. Ten thousand bucks. High-definition TV. Sat there for six weeks, and then one day, it was outa there. Didn't know it came here, though."

Lucas looked at Barin, raised his eyebrows. Barin nodded-he'd check. A ten-thousand-dollar television would give weight to the drug-dealing proposition.

"So let's go," Lucas said to Letty.

But outside, Letty said, "I don't really have to pee. I just wanted to get a look around."

"Well, Jesus Christ," Lucas said, irritated.

"I'm trying to help. You need all you can get," she said. Then, "Why couldn't I pee here?"

"They have to process the whole place. Crime scene process. Like the shows on television. Bathrooms are good places to process, because they have good surfaces for fingerprints and so on. You can sometimes get DNA out of them."

"Okay." She nodded. "Good reason."

"Let's get you home," Lucas said.