Page 77 of Little Dark Deeds
I took my photos, then Whitlock and Silas entered the room.
Silas looked at the bag and said, “Whatcha got there?”
“A lighter, and a crazy note that accompanied it,” Foley said.“Georgiana, why don’t you do the honors?”
I showed Silas the letter, who read through it with a look of astonishment.Then I explained how I came to find both items.
When I finished, he leaned over, peering into the plastic bag.“I find the smudge mark confusing.”
“How so?”
“Let’s assume it’s blood, either Tiffany’s or the killers.How do we think it got there?”
It was a question I’d thought of myself, and I had a few ideas.
“I assume the killer would have gotten a fair amount of Tiffany’s blood on himself during her murder,” I said.“Maybe he went to the kitchen to wash off before he left,” I said.“There were what appeared to be dried red spots on the rug in front of the sink.”
“If he wore gloves, why bother going to the sink?”
“True, but Tiffany’s blood could have gotten beneath the gloves, or all over his person.”
“I see where you’re going ...in the process of cleaning up, the lighter may have slipped out of his pocket,” Foley said.“It could have made contact with blood on his skin or on his clothing as it fell to the ground.”
“I’d bet the killer didn’t even realize he’d dropped the lighter,” I said.“It’s small and lightweight.When he figured it out, it was too late.Police were crawling all over the place.”
Silas nodded, and his cell phone rang to the tune of Aerosmith’s “Walk This Way.”
He reached into his pocket and left the room.
“If Queenie started talking to people she thought were connected to the murder, there are only so many people she would have known about,” Foley said.
“I ...ahh, regret to admit, but I may have spilled a bit too much tea when I spoke to her,” Whitlock said.“She had a way of getting information out of a person.I believe I said too much.”
“Let that be a lesson to you,” Foley warned.
Whitlock nodded and yawned, and Foley followed suit.
“I’m ready to call it a day,” I said.
“I’m right there with you,” Foley said.“Let’s go home, get some shut-eye, and touch base with each other tomorrow.”
Good idea.
It was almost midnight, and every fiber of my being had started to ache.
We made our way over to our vehicles, and as they backed away, I leaned against my car, taking a moment to assess the day.Turning toward Tiffany’s house, it was still hard to accept my friend was gone.There would be no more dinners here, no celebrations, no laughs.The longer I stood there, thinking about it, the bigger the lump in my throat became.
It was one of those moments where life offered up an icy, unwanted little nudge, a nudge that reminded me just how short life could be and how important it was to stay in contact with those who held space in our innermost circles.
The front door opened, and Silas burst out, his face frantic.
He looked left, then right, then his eyes met mine.
“Have Foley and Whitlock gone?”he asked.
“A few minutes ago.What’s wrong?”
“I have news.I just got a call from Kiera.She managed to lift a few decent prints from the pictures you gave us.”
