Von’s supermarket, he sloshed through the deep ditches, head bent
against the driving rain, and went into the small reception lounge,
dripping copiously.
An attractive young blonde sat on a stool behind the counter at the
reception window. She was wearing a white uniform and a purple
cardigan. She said, “You should have an umbrella.”
Clint nodded, put the supermarket bag on the counter, and began to untie
the knot in the straps, to open it.
“At least a raincoat,” she said.
From an inside jacket pocket, he withdrew a Dakota & & Dakota & card,
passed it to her.
“Is this who you want billed?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
“Have you used our service before?”
“Yeah.”
“You have an account?”
“Yeah.”
“I haven’t seen you in here before.”
“No.”
“My name’s Lisa. I’ve only been here about a week. Never had a private
eye come in before, least since I’ve started.”
From the large white sack he withdrew three smaller, clear, Ziploc bags
and lined them up side by side.
“You got a name?” she asked, cocking her head, smiling at him.
“Clint.”
“You go around without an umbrella or raincoat in this weather, Clint,
you’ll catch your death, even as sturdy as you look.”
“First, the shirt,” Clint said, pushing that bag forward.
“We want the bloodstains analyzed. Not just typed. We want the whole
nine yards. A complete genetic workup too. Take samples from four
different parts of the shirt, because there might be more than one
person’s blood on it. If so, do a workup on both.”
Lisa frowned at Clint, then at the shirt in the bag. She began filling
out an analysis order.
“Same program on this one,” he said, pushing forward the second bag. It
contained a folded sheet of Dakota & Dakota stationery that was mottled
with several spots of blood. Back at the office, Julie had sterilized a
pin in a match flame, stuck Frank Pollard’s thumb, and squeezed the
crimson samples onto the paper.
“We want to know if any of the blood on the shirt matches what’s on this
stationery.”
The third bag contained the black sand.
“Is this a biological substance?” Lisa asked.
“I don’t know. Looks like sand.”
“Because if it’s a biological substance, it should go to our medical
division, but if it’s not biological it should go to the industrial
lab.”
“Send a little to both. And put a rush on it.”
“Costs more.”
“Whatever.”
As she filled out the third form, she said, “There’s a few beaches “in
Hawaii with black sand, you ever been there?”
.’No.
“Kaimu. That’s the name of one of the black beaches. Comes from a
volcano, somehow. The sand, I mean.”
“You like beaches?”
“Yeah.” She looked up, her pen poised over the form, and gave a big
smile. Her lips were full. Her teeth were very white. “love the
beach. Nothing I like better than putting on a bathing suit and soaking
up some sun, really just baking in the sun, I don’t care what they say
about a tan being bad for you. I’m short anyway, you know? Might as
well look good while we’re here. Besides, being in the sun makes me
feel… oh, not exactly, because I don’t mean it saps my energy, just
that it makes me feel full of energy, but a lazy energy, so the way a
lioness walks-you know?-strong-looking but The sun makes me feel like a
lioness.”
He said nothing.
She said, “It’s erotic, the sun. I guess that’s what I’m trying to say.
You lay out in the sun enough, on a nice beach, all your inhibitions
sort of melt away.” He just stared at her.
After she finished filling out the analysis orders, gave him copies, and
attached each order to the correct sample, said, “Listen, Clint, we’re
living in a modern world, figuring He didn’t know what she meant.
She said, “We’re all liberated these days, am I right? a girl finds a
guy attractive, she doesn’t have to wait for to make the move.”
Oh, Clint thought.
Leaning back on her stool, maybe to let him see how her full breasts
filled out her white uniform blouse, she smiled said, “Would you be