JUNIE MOON’S PAINTED LADY looked tired and dull that afternoon as the sky darkened and a fine rain swept the city. Conklin lifted up the crime scene tape that was strung across Junie’s front door and I ducked under it, signed the log, and entered the same room where Conklin and I had interviewed the fetching young prostitute late the night before.
This time we had a search warrant.
The sound of hammers slamming into ceramic1 tile led us to the bathroom on the second floor, where CSIs were tearing up the floors and walls in order to get to the bathtub plumbing2. Charlie Clapper, head of our CSU, was standing3 in the hallway outside the bathroom door. He was wearing one of his two dozen nearly identical herringbone jackets, his salt-and-pepper hair was neatly4 combed, and his lined face was somber5.
“Curb your expectations, Lindsay. There’s enough splooge in this whorehouse to tie up the lab for a year.”
“We just need one hair,” I said. “One drop of Michael Campion’s blood.”
“And I’d like to see Venice before it sinks into the sea. And as long as we’re wishing on stars here, I’m still pining for a Rolls Silver Cloud.”
There was a leaden sound as the CSI working behind and under the tub dismantled6 the trap. As the tech bagged the plumbing, Conklin and I went back to Junie’s bedroom.
It wasn’t the pigpen Ricky Malcolm slept in, but Junie wasn’t a tidy homemaker either. There were dust balls under the furniture, the mirrored walls were smudged, and the dense7 gray carpet had the oily look of a floor mat in a single dad’s minivan.
A CSI asked if we were ready, then closed the curtains and shut off the overhead light. She waved the wand end of the Omnichrome 1000 in a side-to-side pattern across the bedspread, carpet, and walls, each pass of her wand showing up pale blue splotches indicating semen stains everywhere. She shot me a look and said, “If the johns saw this, they’d never take off their clothes in this girl’s house, guaranteed.”
Conklin and I walked downstairs toward the sound of the vacuum cleaner, watched the CSIs work, Conklin shouting to me over the vacuum’s motor, “Three months after the fact, what do we expect? A sign saying, ‘Michael Campion died here’?”
That’s when we heard the clank of metal against the vacuum cleaner nozzle. The CSI turned off the motor, stooped, pulled a steak knife from under the skirt of a velvet-covered sofa - just where Conklin and I had been sitting last night.
The investigator8 held out the steak knife with his gloved hand so that I could see the rust-colored stain on the sharp, serrated blade.
1 ceramic | |
n.制陶业,陶器,陶瓷工艺 | |
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2 plumbing | |
n.水管装置;水暖工的工作;管道工程v.用铅锤测量(plumb的现在分词);探究 | |
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3 standing | |
n.持续,地位;adj.永久的,不动的,直立的,不流动的 | |
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4 neatly | |
adv.整洁地,干净地,灵巧地,熟练地 | |
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5 somber | |
adj.昏暗的,阴天的,阴森的,忧郁的 | |
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6 dismantled | |
拆开( dismantle的过去式和过去分词 ); 拆卸; 废除; 取消 | |
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7 dense | |
a.密集的,稠密的,浓密的;密度大的 | |
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8 investigator | |
n.研究者,调查者,审查者 | |
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