The Broken Window

mothballs? What the hell does it add up to? Does he live near an antiques store? Over one?”
    They continued the analysis: minute traces of phosphorus sesquisulfide, the main ingredient in safety matches; more Trade Center dust; and leaves from a dieffenbachia, also called leopard lily. It was a common houseplant.
    Other evidence included paper fibers from yellow legal pads, probably two different ones because of the color variations in the dyes. But they weren’t distinctive enough to trace to a source. Also, more of the spicy substance that Rhyme had found in the knife used to murder the coin collector. This time they had enough to properly examine the grains and the color. “It’s cayenne pepper,” Cooper announced.
    Sellitto mumbled, “Used to be you could pin somebody to a Latin neighborhood with that. Now, you can get salsa and hot sauce everywhere. Whole Foods to 7-Elevens.”
    The only other clue was a shoeprint in the dirt of a recently dug grave near the site of the killing. Sachs deduced it was 522’s because it appeared to have been left by someone running from that area toward the exit.
    Comparing the electrostatic print with the database of shoe treadmarks revealed that 522’s shoes were well-worn size-11 Skechers, a practical, though not particularly stylish, model often worn by workers and hikers.
    While Sachs took a phone call, Rhyme told Thom to write the details on the chart as he dictated. Rhyme stared at the information—much more than when they’d started. Yet it was leading them nowhere.
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    UNSUB 522 PROFILE
    • Male
    • Possibly smokes or lives/works with someone who does, or near source of tobacco
    • Has children or lives/works near them or near source of toys
    • Interest in art, coins?
    • Probably white or light-skinned ethnic
    • Medium build
    • Strong—able to strangle victims
    • Access to voice-disguise equipment
    • Possibly computer literate; knows OurWorld. Other social-networking sites?
    • Takes trophies from victims. Sadist?
    • Portion of residence/workplace dark and moist
    • Lives in/near downtown Manhattan?
    • Eats snack food/hot sauce
    • Lives near antiques store?
    • Wears size-11 Skechers work shoe
    NONPLANTED EVIDENCE
    • Old cardboard
    • Hair from doll, BASF B35 nylon 6
    • Tobacco from Tareyton cigarettes
    • Old tobacco, not Tareyton, but brand unknown
    • Evidence of Stachybotrys Chartarum mold
    • Dust, from World Trade Center attack, possibly indicating residence/job downtown Manhattan
    • Snack food/cayenne pepper
    • Rope fiber containing:
      • Cyclamate diet soda (old or foreign)
      • Naphthalene mothballs (old or foreign)
    • Leopard lily plant leaves (interior plant)
    • Trace from two different legal pads, yellow colored
    • Treadmark from size-11 Skechers work shoe

Chapter Thirty-one
    “Appreciate you seeing me, Mark.”
    Whitcomb, the Compliance Department assistant, smiled agreeably. Pulaski figured he must really love his job to be still working so late—just after nine-thirty. But then, the cop realized, he himself was still on the job.
    “Another killing? And that same guy did it?”
    “We’re pretty sure.”
    The young man frowned. “I’m sorry. Jesus. When?”
    “About three hours ago.”
    They were in Whitcomb’s office, which was a lot homier than Sterling’s. And sloppier too, which made it more comfortable. He set aside the legal pad he was jotting on and gestured at a chair. Pulaski sat, noting pictures of family on his desk, some nice paintings on the walls, along with diplomas and some professional certificates. Pulaski had glanced up and down the quiet halls, extremely glad that Cassel and Gillespie, the school bullies, weren’t here.
    “Say, that your wife?”
    “My sister.” Whitcomb gave a smile but Pulaski had seen that look before. It meant, this’s a tough subject. Had the woman died?
    No, it was the other answer.
    “I’m divorced. Keep pretty busy here. Tough to have a family.” The young man waved his arm, indicating SSD, Pulaski supposed. “But it’s important work. Real important.”
    “I’m sure it is.”
    After trying to reach Andrew Sterling, Pulaski called Whitcomb, who had agreed to meet the cop and hand over the time sheets for that day—to see which of their suspects had been out of the office at the time the groundskeeper was killed.
    “I’ve got some coffee.”
    Pulaski noted that the man had a silver tray on his desk, with two china cups.
    “I