“Building materials?” I asked, scanning the first page of the report.
“That’s right. Paint, plaster, wood, cement, asbestos, glass. Typically, we find this sort of debris in burglary cases, often on the suspects’ clothing, in their cuffs, pockets, shoes, and so on.”
“What about on Eddie Heath’s clothes?”
“Some of this same debris was on his clothes.”
“And the paints? Tell me about them.”
“I found bits of paint from five different origins. Three of them are layered, meaning something was painted and repainted a number of times.”
“Are the origins vehicular or residential?” I inquired.
“Only one is vehicular, an acrylic lacquer typically used as a top coat in cars manufactured by General Motors.”
It could have come from the vehicle used to abduct Eddie Heath, I thought. And it could have come from anywhere.
“The color?” I inquired.
“Blue.”
“Layered?”
“No.”
“What about the debris from the area of pavement where the body was found? I asked Marino to get sweepings to you and he said he would.”
“Sand, dirt, bits of paving material, plus the miscellaneous debris you might expect around a Dumpster. Glass, paper, ash, pollen, rust, plant material.”
“That’s different from what you found adhering to the residue on his wrists?”
“Yes. It would appear to me that the tape was applied and removed from his wrists in a location where there’s debris from building materials and birds.”
“Birds?”
“On the third page of the report,” he said. “I found a lot of feather parts.”
Lucy was restless and rather irritable when I got home. Clearly, she had not had enough to occupy her during the day, for she had taken it upon herself to rearrange my study. The laser printer had been moved, as had the modem and all of my computer reference guides.
“Why did you do this?” I asked.
She was in my chair, her back to me, and she replied without turning around or slowing her finger; on the keyboard. “It makes more sense this way.”
“Lucy, you can’t just go into someone else’s office and move everything around. How would you feel ft I did that to you?”
“There would be no reason to rearrange anything of mine. It’s all arranged very sensibly.”
She stopped typing and swiveled around. “See, now you can reach the printer without getting up from the chair. Your books are right here within reach, and the modem is out of your way completely. You shouldn’t set books, coffee cups, and things on top of a modem.”
“Have you been in here all day?” I asked.
“Where else would I be? You took the car. I went Jogging around your neighborhood. Have you ever tried to run on snow?”
Pulling up a chair, I opened my briefcase and got out the paper bag Marino had given me. “You’re saying you need a car.”
“I feel stranded.”
“Where would you like to go?”
“To your club. I don’t know where else. I’d simply like the option. What’s in the bag?”
“Books and a poem Marino gave me.”
“Since when is he a member of the literati?” She got up and stretched. “I’m going to make a cup of herbal tea. Would you like some?”
“Coffee, please.”
“It’s bad for you,” she said as she left the room.
“Oh, hell, “I muttered irritably as I pulled the books and poem out of the bag and red fluorescent powder got all over my hands and clothes.
Neils Vander had done his usual thorough examination, and I had forgotten his passion for his new toy. Several months ago he had acquired an alternate light source and had retired the laser to the scrap heap. The Luma-Lite, with its “state-of-the-art three-hundred-and-fifty-watt high-intensity blue enhanced metal vapor arc lamp,” as Vander lovingly described it whenever the subject came up, turned virtually invisible hairs and fibers a burning orange. Semen stains and street drug residues jumped out like solar flares, and best of all, the light could pick up fingerprints that never would have been seen-in the past.
Vander had gone the gamut on Jennifer Deighton’s paperback novels. They had been placed in the glass tank and exposed to vapors from Super Glue, the cyanoacrylate ester that reacts to the components of perspiration transferred by human skin. Then Vander had dusted the slick covers of the books with the red fluorescent powder that was now all over me. Finally, he had subjected the books to the cool blue scrutiny of the Luma-Lite and purpled pages with Ninhydrin. I hoped he would be rewarded for all of his trouble. My reward was to go into the bathroom and clean up with a wet washcloth.