Angels Fall

with her clothes. Last night she's in a brawl at Clancy's."
    "Oh now, Rick, I heard all about that foolishness. Linda-gail flaunting some tourist in Lo's face to get his goat. And she got it."
    "My point is, Reece was involved." The sun glinted off Rick's dark glasses as he turned his head to look at Doc. Behind them, boats sailed across the water, through the mirrored mountains. "We haven't had this much trouble in town all at once, not before she came around."
    "You think she's causing all this. Why would she?"
    Rick held up a hand as they walked. "I'm asking, hypothcticaily, if you had a patient with a history of 
    emotional and mental problems, if that patient could likely function well enough for the most part. And have, well, what you might call delusions, or hell, just plain forgetfulness."
    "Hell, Rick, you could have just plain forgetfulncss, and you could toss in a few delusions now and then."
    "This is more than forgetting where you left your keys. Could this be in her head. Doc?"
    "Hypothetically, it could. But could's not is, Rick. There's no crime if she's been forgetful. But there's a crime if someone's doing this to that girl."
    "I'm going to keep an eye on it. On her."
    Doc nodded, and they walked a little more in companionable silence.
    "Well, I guess I'll go on up to the hotel, take a look down in the laundry," Rick said. He detoured by Reece's apartment first. The door was wide open, and rock pumped out along with the sound of hammer on chisel.
    Inside, Brody was on his knees in the bathroom, painfully from the looks of it, chipping up the ancient linoleum.
    "Not your usual line of work," Rick called out.
    "Change of pace." Brody sat back on his heels. "An ugly, sweaty, knuckle-scraping change of pace. It got dumped on me when it was discovered I have no latent carpentry talents." Rick hunkered down. "Subflooring's trashed."
    "So I'm told."

    "You should've come to me with these incidents with Reece before this, Brody."
    "Her choice. Understandable. I can look at your face and see you're not leaning toward believing her."
    "I'm not leaning any particular way. Hard to investigate if I don't know, don't see for myself. You painted over what was done in here before."
    "Took pictures first. I'll get you copies."
    "That's a start. None of these incidents happened at your place, or while you were with her?"
    "Not so far." He went back to chipping. "Listen, even objectively it's hard for me to buy her leaving the water on in here. She checks the stove every time she leaves the kitchen. Checks the lights, the locks. A person with a mile-wide anal streak doesn't forget she's running a bath. And she doesn't run one when she's got someone waiting for her downstairs."
    "I can't see any signs of that lock being tampered with, or forced entry."
    "He's got a key. I'm going to see the locks're changed."

    "You do that. I'm going to head down to the hotel and take a look in the laundry area. You want to come along?"
    "And leave this fascinating hobby?" Brody dropped the tools. "Bet your ass."

    BRODY COULD IMAGINE how Reece felt as she carted her basket through the basement. There was light, harsh light that cast shadows in corners. The furnace hummed, the water heaters clanged, all hollow, echoing sounds as you walked over the raw cement floor to the worn vinyl of the cramped laundry.
    Two washers, two dryers, commercial grade. A dispenser that sold laundry soap and fabric softener in miniature packages at inflated prices.
    There was a narrow jalousie window high above the machines, rolled closed, that let fitful light through frosted glass.
    "Guest elevators don't come down to this level," Rick began. "Got an outside entrance, too, back by the maintenance room. Couple windows. Not hard for somebody to get down here without anyone noticing. Still. How'd they know she was down here doing wash?"
    "She walked back and forth on the street. Easy to know if you're keeping tabs on her." Rick studied the lay. "Let me ask you something, Brody. If someone wishes harm on her, why haven't they harmed her? She's got it in her head the man she says she saw by the river's doing this."
    "I put it in her head."
    As if suddenly tired. Rick leaned back against a washing machine. "Now why the hell did you go and do that?"
    "It makes sense to me. Play on her weaknesses, scare her, make her doubt herself. Make sure everyone else doubts her, too. It's smart, and in its way, it's clean. Doesn't mean he won't harm her." And that, Brody