A werewolf among us

pointing.
    The white metal storage box measured approximately three feet high by four feet long, perhaps twelve inches deep. It was bolted to the stone wall, and it appeared to be more than averagely secure.
    Rainy crossed the room and climbed onto the work table below the cabinet, stood up, brushed his hands off and carefully examined the seams for chipped paint or the traces of a recent touch-up job. Satisfied that no one had forced the cabinet open, he said, "Okay, Teddy. Would you unlock it now, please."
    The master unit glided forth, levitated higher on his gravplates and unlocked the storage unit Rainy swung the door open and looked inside. Two dozen keys were pegged there, all made from the same blank but with differently serrated edges.
    "Which key?" Rainy asked.
    Teddy pointed to the right top corner peg.
    Rainy did not touch it. He said, "I'll send a man down to take prints from it later. But I don't really think we're going to have much luck with it."
    St. Cyr asked, "How does the emergency key cycle the door open in the absence of electrical power?"
    Teddy swiveled toward the cyberdetective and said, "It disconnects the automatic locking mechanism and reveals a wheel fronting a hydraulic jack that pumps up the door. One has only to turn the wheel half a dozen times to raise the door."
    "Perhaps that would be long enough to be discovered, enough time for the intended victim to sound an alarm," St. Cyr observed.
    "No, sir," Teddy said. "The hydraulic jack is essentially silent. And the intended—the intended victim might not be facing the door—or, for that matter, might not even be in the sitting room at all."
    Rainy climbed down from the work bench, dusted himself off and looked around the shop at the kilns, lathes, vices, drills, and benches with permanently fixed engraving tools. He looked at Teddy and said, "What's all this for?"
    Teddy explained the silver crafts that he and Jubal "collaborated" on, and he offered an example, a goblet that was only half-engraved. It was tall and slim and thus far decorated with a naked girl riding a tiger the whole way around the cup so that the tiger ended with his own tail draped through his mouth.
    St. Cyr said, "Do you have the tools here to make duplicates of these keys?"
    "Of course."
    "You make them yourself?"
    "Yes. It is highly unlikely that a key could be lost, and—"
    St. Cyr interrupted him. "When was the last time you had to machine a duplicate key?"
    "I've never needed to," Teddy said. "A master unit is quite efficient. It doesn't lose things."
    St. Cyr looked at the federal policeman quizzically and said, "Well?"
    "Nothing more for us to do here," Rainy said. "I'll send a man down to take prints from that key, but later. Let's get back upstairs and see if anything else has been turned up."
     
    Nothing else was, of course, turned up.
    The key in the workshop cabinet was as bare of fingerprints as every surface in Betty's room had been.
    Finally the police machines were moved out of the house and loaded aboard the helicopter again, along with the uniformed technicians who guided most of them. The corpse was removed too, to be taken back to police headquarters where a more thorough autopsy could be performed, after which it would be cremated according to the Alderban family's wishes. The ashes would be returned in an urn, but no religious ceremony would be held; the Alderbans were non-believers.
    Inspector Chief Rainy was the last of his crew to leave, and he asked for a moment of St. Cyr's time before he went. The family still lingered in the corridor outside of Betty's room. Rainy and St, Cyr moved a dozen steps away from them, where they could speak privately.
    "I'm not going to leave one of my men behind," Rainy said.
    St. Cyr only nodded.
    "I planted a man here after Dorothea's death, and absolutely nothing happened for so long that we pulled him off. Apparently his presence gave the killer a bad case of nerves."
    "And just as apparently, my presence here doesn't bother him in the least."
    "Anyway, you don't deter him."
    St. Cyr said, "You want me to report to you?"
    "That's it."
    "I will, if I find anything interesting. I would have anyway, without the request." He listened to Rainy thank him, then said, "What do you know about Hirschel?"
    Rainy didn't look at all surprised by the question. "Rambler, gamesman. He's been just about anywhere that the hunt is good and done just about everything to lay his life on the line."
    'Except murder?"
    "You