Page 40 of Evil Bones
“Pick it up,” Slidell ordered. “Take a look.”
“I’m not going to, I don’t know, contaminate evidence or something?”
“Who said it’s evidence?”
“You’re a police officer.” Dahmer blinked, one hand now pressed to his sternum.
“Pick. It. Up.” Slidell demanded in a low and very even voice.
Using a thumb and forefinger, Dahmer lifted the bag gingerly by one corner. His expression suggested anticipation of a dead spider or a stool sample.
“So?” Slidell prodded.
“So what?” Dahmer sounded genuinely confused.
“So, what can you tell me about it?”
Dahmer peered at Slidell’s find through the clear plastic. Turned the baggie this way and that.
“It’s a chew toy,” he said without hesitation. “For dogs.”
“We know that. What else can you say?”
Stiffening at Slidell’s brusqueness, Dahmer bent and withdrew a handheld magnifier from below the counter. Raised and lowered the glass over the baggie.
“It’s part of a Doggieflex chew toy,” he said when several seconds had passed. “The Dragon model.”
“Are they common?” Slidell asked.
“No.”
“Do you carry them here?”
“Not anymore.”
“But you did.”
“Yes.”
“When did you stop?”
“About six months ago. We received notice that dogs were choking on bits of rubber that became detached, so we discontinued the product. We would never sell anything that could harm—”
“Did you keep records on who bought the things?”
“It’s a six-dollar item, officer.”
“So that’s a no.”
“It is.”
Slidell began rolling his shoulders. I knew his body language well. He was frustrated and considering his next move.
“But I remember the customer who purchased this one,” Dahmer said.
Slidell froze in mid-roll.
“How’s that?”
