K Is for Killer

back at us with satisfaction.
    As Serena turned back to me, she sighed in exasperation. "That man is so stubborn, he drives me nuts. I've never had children, but surely parents are worse. Ah, well. Enough. I'm sure you didn't come here to listen to my gripes. You said you had a question."
    "I'm looking for some money Lorna might have had when she died. Apparently she closed out a bank account on Friday of that week. As far as I can see, there's twenty thousand dollars unaccounted for. I wondered if you'd seen any cash on the premises."
    Serena put a hand to her chest in surprise. "She had that kind of money? That's incredible."
    "She actually had quite a bit more, but this is the only money that seems to be missing."
    "I can tell I'm in the wrong business. Wait till Roger hears this."
    "You didn't see any sign of it the day you found the body? Might have been a cashier's check."
    "Not me. Ask her landlord. I didn't even go in."
    "And he did?"
    "Well, it was only for a minute, but I'm sure he did."
    "He told me once he caught the smell, he turned right around and went back to his place and called the cops."
    "That's true, but then while we were waiting for the police to show up, he opened the door and went in."
    "To do what?"
    Serena shook her head. "I don't know. I guess I thought he wanted to see what it was. I'd forgotten all about it till you brought it up."

Chapter 13
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    When I got back to my apartment, Danielle was standing on my doorstep in a shallow pool of light. Her long legs were bare, capped by the shortest pink miniskirt on record. She wore black high heels, a black tank top, and a varsity letter jacket with a big black F across the back. Her hair was so long that it extended below the bottom of the jacket in the back. She smiled when she caught sight of me crossing the yard. "Oh, hey. I thought you were gone. I came to get my dime. The IRS says I'm short on my estimated income tax."
    "Aren't you cold? It's really freezing out here."
    "You must never have lived in the East. It's probably fifty degrees. With this jacket I got on, I'm as warm as toast."
    "What's the F stand for?"
    "What do you think?" she said drolly.
    I smiled as I unlocked the door and flipped the lights on. She followed me in, pausing at the threshold to assess the premises. Her eyes looked enormous, the green offset by dark liner, her lashes headed with mascara. Under all the makeup she had a smooth, baby face: snub nose, sulky mouth. She strolled the perimeter of my living room, tottering on her high heels as she peered at all the bookshelves. She picked up the framed photograph of Robert Dietz. "Well, he's cute. Who's this?"
    "A friend."
    She lifted her brows and gave me a look that suggested she knew what kind of friend he was. She put the picture down again and shoved her hands in her jacket pockets. I hung my own jacket across the back of a director's chair. She sat down on my sofa and rubbed a hand across the surface of the fabric as if to test the weight. Tonight her fingernails were long and perfect, painted a vivid fire-engine red. She crossed one long, bare leg across the other and swung a foot while she completed her survey. "This is not bad. They got any other units as good as this?"
    "This is the only rental. My landlord's eighty-five."
    "I don't discriminate. I like old guys," she said. "Maybe I could give him a discount."
    "I'll pass the word along in case he's interested. What are you doing here?"
    She got up and moved over to the kitchen, where she opened my cabinets to check the contents. "I was bored. I don't go in to work until eleven. It's a problem sometimes what to do before. Mr. Dickhead's in a bad mood, so I'm avoiding him."
    "What's his problem?"
    "Oh, who knows? He's probably raggin' it," she said. She flapped a hand in the air, dismissing his ill temper. She pulled a couple of teabags out of her jacket pocket and dangled them in the air. "You want some peppermint tea? I got some bags if you boil the water. It's good for digestion."
    "I'm not worried about digestion. I haven't had dinner yet."
    "Me neither. Sometimes all I have is tea if Lester's taken my money. He doesn't want me getting fat."
    "What a pal," I said.
    She shrugged, unconcerned. "I look after myself. I'm into megavitamins and high colonies and like that."
    "There's a treat," I said. I filled the kettle with hot water and put it on the stove. I flipped the burner on.
    "Laugh all you want. I bet I'm healthier than you."
    "That wouldn't take