Читать книгу Let Justice Descend - Lisa Black - Страница 16

Chapter 8

With her lab back to its more normal quiet hum, Maggie powered up the stereo microscope and held a mental debate about lunch. Wrap or pita? She had not had a tough-enough day to indulge in a burger. What about a portabella burger? Decadent or no? She examined the plug and wires without finding anything of interest. The kegerator had been the victim’s own, so there would be no point in tracing its manufacture. Maggie found no interesting hairs or fibers or adhesives or paint sticking to it. She packaged it carefully; wrapping the ends in their own piece of brown paper on the off chance that they found, somehow, the killer’s wire cutters; and then found an analyst who still did toolmark comparisons. Without all that, the wires could not help them.

Carol emerged from the DNA lab, stripped off her gloves, and rubbed the back of her neck.

“You still here?”

“Might as well milk the OT. Mama needs a junket to Atlantic City. Where’d all the money go?”

“Locked up tight.”

“You didn’t have to do that. I’m not really going to filch it. Not much of it, anyway.”

Maggie pulled the metal grate from its brown paper evidence bag and placed it on a clean piece of examination paper. “I know. I have complete faith in you.”

“Well, that’s fifty percent more than I do. That much cash would turn stronger heads than mine. Is the coffee fresh?”

“Just made it.”

“Are you really going to iodine every single bill?”