Jill heard the noise about 2 a.m. She eased herself out of bed so as not to wake Mitch, and went to the window. In the alley that ran along the side of her house, she saw the darkened shape of a police cruiser. No headlights. Two uniformed officers with long flashlights. Walking to the dumpster. Opening the lid. Aiming the beams inside. One of the officers pulling on a latex glove. Reaching down into the dumpster. Feeling around like a kid searching a treasure box at a grade-school ice-cream socialfeeling around blind for the best prize.
While the one officer, a woman, held the beam, the other, a man spent the next few minutes rummaging through the dumpster. Not a job Jill would want. The officers made faces at each other sometimes, indicating that the dumpster did not exactly smell of Chanel No. 5.
She knew they were looking for something to tie her to the murder. Mitch had once told her that the police frequently spent a lot of time going through garbage cans and dumpsters during the course of murder investigations. Something reliable often turned up.
The male officer found something.
His partner brought the light in closer.
He dug deeper.
Then he lifted something up for inspection.
Even from here, she recognized it. Her electric-blue, sandwashed blouse. But now there were dark stains all over it.
The officer folded it and put it in a large clear evidence bag.
Then he went back to the dumpster.
Behind her, Jill heard, 'What's going on?'
'Police,' she said softly.
Then Mitch stood next to her, smelling of sleep, his big hands on her thin shoulders. He felt warm and safe.
The female officer went back to shining her beam straight down inside the dumpster.
This took a few minutes longer than the blouse had, but eventually the male officer fished out another piece of her clothingher blue wraparound skirt. From this distance, Jill was unable to tell if the same dark splotches stained the skirt.
The officer placed the blouse carefully inside another evidence bag.
'Is that yours?' Mitch asked.
'Yes,' Jill said.
At this point, the female officer returned to the patrol car and made a call on the two-way. Her colleague came over and listened to her talk. When she'd finished, obviously having received instructions of some kind, the two officers started walking up and down the ancient brick alley, deep in shadow and lined with dumpsters and stoops, shining their lights along the ground. They might have been astronauts on the moon on some arcane mission that civilians couldn't comprehend.
But Jill comprehended all right: they'd found her electric-blue blouse and her royal-blue skirt, and now they were looking for more evidence.
'He's already decided that I killed Eric. Sievers, I mean.'
'I didn't say he made his mind up that fast, Jill. He's a very competent cop.'
'They found my blouse and skirt in the dumpster.'
'I know, but'
'I think there was blood all over the blouse. There may have been some on the skirt, too. This is crazy, Mitch. I didn't wear either that blouse or skirt tonight. Somebody's trying to make it look as if I killed Eric.'
'What did you wear?'
She told him.
'Did anybody see you in that outfit?'
'I wore a long coat. They couldn't see what I had on.'
'Not even the skirt?'
'The coat's a lot longer than the skirt.'
'Let's just go back to sleep. I'll talk to Sievers in the morning.'
'Should I get a lawyer?'
'It probably wouldn't hurt.' He sighed. 'That isn't exactly what you wanted to hear, was it?'
'No.'
She looked out. They were working the far end of the alley now, their beams faint as lightning bugs in the gloom.
'Still there.'
'He'll probably put some more people on it tomorrow. I want to work on it all I can but I'm on the Allbright case full-timeyou know, the socialite murder. Sievers is getting a lot of heat about it.'
'I don't understand why they're doing this.'
He frowned. 'A suspect's residence or place of employment is important to check out.'
'''Suspect." Boy, that has a nasty ring, doesn't it?' She hesitated. 'I didn't think things like this actually happened to people like me.'
'Jill, nothing has happened to you. At least, not so far. That's what you've got to keep in mind.'
'It's just been routine?'
'Pretty much.'
'Including my blouse in the dumpster?'
Even in the darkness she could see that he averted his eyes.
'We'll have to see about that. I'll check with Sievers first thing in the morning.'
'I'm trying not to be scared, Mitch.'
'Sleep will help.'
'I can't sleep. I'm going to get up and put on some coffee.' She closed her eyes momentarily. 'Tell me again not to be scared, Mitch.'
'Don't be scared.'
'I'm glad you came over tonight.'
'So am I. This'll all work out, Jill. I promise.'
'You and me or Eric's murder?'
'Both.'
'I wish I felt guiltier.'
'About Eric?'
'Uh-huh.'
'Sometimes you're numb for a while.'
'I guess I was that way about Peter. After the execution, I mean.'
'Try not to think about that tonight.'
'Blue skies and butterflies? You know how you say that's all I should worry about.'
'Blue skies and butterflies. That's all that should be in your head.'
'I really didn't kill him,' Jill said.
'I know.'
'Even if that was blood on my blouse.'
'I know.'
'Oh Mitch, I don't know how to deal with any of this at all. I can't keep second-guessing everything I say.'
'That's what lawyers are for.'
She laughed. 'I knew they served a purpose. So that's it, eh?'
'You know Deborah Douglas, right?'
'Did a portrait of her last year.'
'She's a very good criminal attorney. Call her in the morning.'
'Mitch?'
'Yes.'
'Do you think I can convince Sievers I'm innocent?'
'Absolutely.'
But the unspoken truth was that she didn't believe that, and Mitch probably didn't, either.
Then she set about the difficult task of filling her mind with blue skies and butterflies as she went into the kitchen and made coffee.