By Stuart M. Kaminsky
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Extra resources for Dead of Winter
Html[4/5/2011 9:37:06 AM] "For protection," said Aiden. " "It was all he had," she said. "Maybe he was trying to protect what he had written," said Mac. " she said. "And where's the bullet…" "And the gun," added Mac. " Aiden got up. " "And…" Mac began. "More samples of paper in Lutnikov's apartment," she finished. " "Take a vacuum," said Mac. " "We already did," she said. "But now we know what we're looking for," said Mac. Aiden nodded knowingly. "The murder weapon, the bullet that killed Lutnikov, whatever he was carrying when he was shot and…" "A motive," said Mac.
They had both seen stranger things than a spent bullet sliding into a small space and getting lost or stuck. It could be a dirty job. Aiden hid a sigh and wished for a cup of coffee. The elevator came to a slow gentle stop at the penthouse floor and the doors opened silently. Mac stepped forward and used the knocker. Both Aiden and Mac could sense a presence behind the door looking at them through the peephole. The door opened. " asked Louisa Cormier. "The man who shot that poor Mr. " "Might have been a woman," said Aiden.
Nothing. Mac knocked again. The door across the corridor opened. A lean woman in her fifties stood in the doorway. Her hair was dark and frizzy, and she wore a waitress's uniform with a coat draped over her arm. Next to her stood a girl, very much her mother's daughter, every bit as serious. She couldn't have been more than eleven. "He's not home," the woman said. " "Yesterday, morning some time," the woman said with a shrug. "He wasn't home all night," said the girl. The mother looked at her daughter, making it clear in that look that she wanted to give the police as little information as she could.