I Am Pilgrim(5)

Alvarez shrugs, hopes for the best and comes clean. ‘I offered the burglar a get-out-of-jail-free card if he’d pick the locks on the manager’s office and safe for us.’

She looks at Bradley, nervous, wondering how much trouble this is gonna cause.

Her boss’s face gives away nothing; his voice just drops a notch, even softer. ‘And then?’

‘Eight locks in total and he was through ’em in under a minute,’ she says. ‘No wonder nothing’s safe in this town.’

‘What was in the woman’s file?’ Bradley asks.

‘Receipts. She’d been living here just over a year,’ Norris says. ‘Paid in cash, didn’t have the phone connected – TV, cable, nothing. She sure didn’t want to be traced.’

Bradley nods – exactly what he was thinking. ‘When was the last time any of the neighbours saw her?’

‘Three or four days ago. Nobody’s sure,’ Norris recounts.

Bradley murmurs, ‘Disappeared straight after she killed her date, I guess. What about ID – there must have been something in her file?’

Alvarez checks her notes. ‘Photocopies of a Florida driver’s licence and a student card or something – no picture on it,’ she says. ‘I bet they’re genuine.’

‘Check ’em anyway,’ Bradley tells them.

‘We gave ’em to Petersen,’ says Norris, referring to another young detective. ‘He’s on to it.’

Bradley acknowledges it. ‘Does the burglar – any of the others – know the suspect, anything about her?’

They shake their heads. ‘Nobody. They’d just see her come and go,’ Norris says. ‘Early twenties, about five eight, a great body, according to the burglar—’

Bradley raises his eyes to heaven. ‘By his standards, that probably means she’s got two legs.’

Norris smiles, but not Alvarez – she just wishes Bradley would say something about her deal with the burglar. If he’s going to ream her out, get it over with. Instead she has to continue to participate, professional: ‘According to a so-called actress in one-fourteen, the chick changed her appearance all the time. One day Marilyn Monroe, the next Marilyn Manson, sometimes both Marilyns on the same day. Then there was Drew and Britney, Dame Edna, k. d. lang—’

‘You’re serious?’ Bradley asks. The young cops nod, reeling off more names as if to prove it. ‘I’m really looking forward to seeing this photofit,’ he says, realizing that all the common avenues of a murder investigation are being closed down. ‘Anything else?’ They shake their heads, done.

‘Better start getting statements from the freaks – or at least those without warrants, which will probably amount to about three of ’em.’

Bradley dismisses them, turning to me in the shadows, starting to broach something which has been causing him a lot of anxiety.

‘Ever seen one of these?’ he asks, pulling on plastic gloves and taking a metal box off a shelf in the closet. It’s khaki in colour, so thin I hadn’t even noticed it. He’s about to open it but turns to look at Alvarez and Norris for a moment. They are heading out, weaving through the firefighters, now packing up their hazchem pumps.

‘Hey, guys!’ he calls. They turn and look. ‘About the burglar – that was good work.’ We see the relief on Alvarez’s face and they both raise their hands in silent acknowledgement, smiling. No wonder his crew worships him.

I’m looking at the metal box – on closer examination, more like an attaché case with a serial number stencilled on the side in white letters. It’s obviously military, but I only have a vague memory of seeing anything like it. ‘A battlefield surgical kit?’ I say, without much conviction.

‘Close,’ Bradley says. ‘Dentistry.’ He opens the box, revealing – nestled in foam – a full set of army dental instruments: spreader pliers, probes, extraction forceps.

I stare at him. ‘She pulled the victim’s teeth?’ I ask.

‘All of ’em. We haven’t found any, so I figure she dumped ’em. Maybe she flushed them down the john and we’ll get lucky – that’s why we’re tearing the plumbing apart.’

‘Were the teeth pulled before or after the victim was killed?’

Ben realizes where I’m going. ‘No, it wasn’t torture. The coroner’s team have taken a look inside her mouth. They’re pretty sure it was after death, to prevent identification. It was the reason I asked you to drop by – I remembered something in your book about home dentistry and a murder. If it was in the US, I was hoping there might be a—’