Dead Cold Mysteries Box Set #1: Books 1-4 (A Dead Cold Box Set), Blake Banner [classic children's novels txt] 📗

me on that day, Bob, that the lockup with the arms in it reminded you of Schrödinger’s cat.” I paused, staring at him. “And it was when I remembered that, that I realized Dehan was in one of the lockups, with a timed device. And of course, I was right.”

There was total silence in the dull gray of the morning light. Bob suddenly said, “I am so glad I was able to help.”

“So am I. Because I have to confess, I have been behaving in a rather bizarre manner recently. Peter will attest to that, won’t you, Peter? I have actually been going around smelling people’s shoes. For example, Bob, I notice that you wear rather exquisite, handmade Spanish shoes.”

Bob and Mrs. Luff both stared down at his feet. He gave a small laugh. “Yes, it was actually Peter who introduced me to them. I have always admired Peter’s unfailing good taste and his relentless determination always to have the best.”

I smiled. “Even when he doesn’t deserve or appreciate it. He acquires these things, doesn’t he, Bob? And then he doesn’t value them.” Bob looked blank and I held out my hand. “Call me crazy, but I do love the smell of good Spanish leather. There is nothing like it. May I, Bob?”

“May you what?”

“Smell your shoes.”

“You want to smell my shoes?”

“Please.”

Everybody was staring like they were following a tennis match. After a moment, he took off his shoes and handed them to me. He looked really uncomfortable. “Really, Detective, I don’t know what you hope to…”

“Humor me, Bob, it is just a small demonstration.” I briefly sniffed the soles and carried on talking. “You see, when I stopped looking at the pictures that the killer was feeding me, I started looking further afield, and I began to discover interesting things like, for example, the fact that you do not work. You live on a pension paid to you by your ex-employer after an accident at work incapacitated you. You worked, back then, as a master butcher at the Manly’s chain of superstores.”

“That’s true, but…”

“It is a comfortable income, but not a handsome one. I discovered that you had originally bid for a house with a lockup. But the bank would not extend you that much credit. You were the odd one out. You had no lockup.

“And the more I thought of my killer as the person making the picture, the more I kept remembering this window here, staring straight out at Peter’s house. Peter with the attractive wife whom he always left alone, Peter with the well-paid job, Peter with the house which was just a little bit bigger and better than yours. Peter, with the very lockup that you wanted to buy. Peter, whom you have detested and resented since the very day he moved in here, and you fell in love with his wife.”

“What absolute rubbish!”

“Really? I think when we start questioning Jennifer, another picture may emerge, about how you have hounded her for the last fifteen years, how every time her husband was away you would be there…”

Jennifer spoke suddenly, and her voice was twisted with grief, frustration, and relief.

“Both of them! Him and his damned wife!” She turned to her husband. “I tried to tell you! How many times did I try to warn you? And all you could say was, we must keep the peace with the damned neighbors.” She pointed a trembling hand at Bob and his wife. “They are crazy! But you won’t listen! Because you always know best!”

I nodded. “Make a note, Peter, listen to your wife. Because having terrorized her into compliance, they repeatedly went to your house when you were out, stole your cell phone, stole your prints, probably using liquid silicon, planted Dehan’s pendant in your drawer, and planted your prints on the duct tape and the pendant.” I paused. “A jury might have bought it. But it was just a little too obvious, having been so careful, to suddenly leave two, perfect thumbprints on such perfect exhibits.”

I turned to Bob and held up the shoes. “You wanted his lockup, you wanted his house, you wanted his wife… Your obsession extended as far as buying the same shoes online.”

Bob was laughing. “It is true that I am fond of Jennifer, we both are!” He gestured at his wife, who was smiling comfortably. “And I will not deny that Mrs. L. and I have often sat here and discussed how—forgive me, Peter—how wasteful Peter has been. He has been granted all the opportunities I never had, and frankly, he has thrown them away. And as I said, I—we—have always admired Peter’s good taste. But I am afraid it is a quantum leap from there to inferring that I am a serial killer who gets his amusement from framing my neighbor for murder! Please!” He laughed.

I nodded. “I agree. And that is why I bought liquid iron.”

“You did what?”

“I was expecting another one of your notes. You’d already visited me once, and I thought it was at least even chances that you’d be back. So I spilled Floradix liquid iron all over my porch. It was cold and damp enough that it would not evaporate. I planned to keep doing it all week if I had to, but as it was, at five a.m. you showed up to leave me your note. Liquid iron not only stinks, it shows up with Luminol. Detective Dehan, have you got…?”

She reached in her pocket and tossed me a small plastic spray bottle. She then got up, closed the drapes, and went to stand by the door. I sprayed the Luminol over a patch of the sole. The room was dark enough to see the bright blue glow as it mixed with the oxidizing agent in the liquid iron residue. I held it up to show her. Then showed it