~~ Chapter 6 ~~

Just as Dick inserted the key into David Munroe's front door, he heard the ding of the elevator. Instinctively, he started looking for hiding places until he reminded himself that he had permission to be here. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that Matt had started as well. He laughed.

"Feels weird being here in broad daylight, doesn't it?"

Matt laughed as well, running a hand through his thick red hair in embarrassment. "Sure does. I do most of my crime scene investigations in the red long johns, so this is a little unusual for me."

"I know what you mean. One of my first days as a cop, I nearly had a heart attack when my sergeant walked in on me when I was doing some file work." His grin became a smirk. "While I'm thinking about it, since you're here as Matt Murdock, Ace Lawyer, does that mean you're billing me for this?"

Matt stood dumbfounded.

"You know, 'billing'? Filthy lucre? Money? The love of which is the root of all evil?"

Matt shook himself and replied, "Sorry. It's just rather rare for me to be working a murder investigation -- especially in the long johns -- and actually get paid for it. Foggy was practically turning cartwheels when I told him I was taking a murder case that wasn't pro bono." He thought for a moment. "I guess, since I'm here in the suit, I should bill you."

"Works for me," Dick replied.

The two men entered the apartment and began exploring. It consisted of a small kitchen/breakfast area, a modest-sized living room, a utilitarian-looking bathroom, and a bedroom that was just barely big enough for the king-size bed that it contained.

"I see what Clancy meant about the dust -- sheesh! Even I keep a cleaner place than this," exclaimed Dick, as he poked around in the kitchen. They eventually ended up the in the bedroom. Dick stared at the large red-brown stain in the center of the mattress. Suddenly, he noticed something a bit odd.

"Hey, Matt! Take a look here," he said, pointing to a spot near the center of the bloodstain. "Is that a cut in the mattress?"

"I think it is. Didn't the autopsy say something about the knife wound going all the way through the body?"

"Yeah, I believe so." Dick took a pencil from his jacket pocket and carefully inserted it into the gash.

"Won't the pencil go all the way through the padding, since the top's been cut?"

"Well, I'm hoping that the blood would be more likely to pool at the bottom of the cut, since it would no longer have a direct outlet. And I think I've got it!" Dick used his fingernail to mark the position on the pencil and then handed it to Matt.

"See what you think -- about three inches down."

Matt raised an eyebrow but did as Dick requested. At the three-inch mark, he paused, a frown of concentration on his face. Then, he withdrew the pencil and handed it back to Dick with a nod.

"You're right. There's definitely a different feel to the mattress. So the knife stroke was what, about fifteen inches?"

"That's not a knife; that's practically a sword!" Dick exclaimed. "What kind of guy lets a woman into his apartment carrying a sword?!"

"Also, the blow carried a lot of force -- remember the autopsy noted that one of Munroe's back ribs was cracked when the blade hit it. How can they think a young woman of Bridget's size could do that? Not to mention, the autopsy indicated Munroe didn't struggle after he was stabbed, even though his death wasn't immediate. Why didn't he try to stop her?"

"Actually, Clancy's a bit stronger the she looks, but I take your point." Dick grinned sardonically. "Now as far as your other question, I could believe it, given that Munroe had sex right before he died. Say, he's lying there, still pretty wiped out. His eyes are closed. Unlike some of us in this room, he wouldn't notice that the woman on top of him suddenly produced a long knife/short sword. He doesn't notice anything until she strikes."

Matt smiled as well at Dick's scenario. "I guess I could go for that; although I still think there should have been more signs of a struggle after he was stabbed."

"Yeah, that bugs me too. The tox screen was clean, right?"

"Right. No drugs, except some alcohol, but he wasn't even legally drunk."

"Weird."

"Yeah," Matt said, and then his voice trailed off. Dick could see his nostrils flaring slightly.

"You got something?"

"Maybe," Matt said absently. "Odd smell. ... Perfume? ... Astringent -- no, that's him. Musky." He continued to wander around the bed, his forehead wrinkled as he concentrated. He paid special attention to the pillows. Shaking his head, he then went into the bathroom. Dick followed him and saw him sniffing the hand towel that still hung on its hook.

"Got it!" Matt exclaimed.

"What?!"

"Whoever the killer was, she ended up washing her hands in the bathroom. Obviously, she wiped off her fingerprints, but her scent is still on this towel. It's definitely not Munroe, and it's also not Bridget."

"How do you know it's not Clancy?"

"Bridget's scent is on the pillows, and it's different from this one. It's certainly an odd one. Kind of a sandalwood musk, but there's something else mixed in that I can't place." Matt frowned a little in frustration. "I'm pretty familiar with most of the perfumes out there, but this one's different. Very strange."

"So, if we find the girl who matches that scent, we've got our killer?" Dick asked.

"Yeah. Just one small problem."

Dick sighed. "How to find one scent out of millions of others, I know. Still, it's more information than we had before we got here."

"Right. Has Barbara found anything on our mysterious Kimberly."

Dick rolled his eyes and sighed again. "That is currently a sore subject around Babs. I've stopped asking about her progress since I'm generally quite fond of keeping my head attached to my shoulders."

Matt grinned back. "Last I heard she had traced Kimberly's whereabouts until two years ago?"

"Yeah. Apparently it was a pretty clear trail: She received survivor's benefits until she was 21, and then got a passport and spent a couple of years in Okinawa. After she returned to the states, she worked at some advertising firms until two years ago when she dropped off the face of the earth, according to Babs. No bank accounts, nothing reported to Social Security, no driver's license, nada. It's driving Babs crazy."

As if summoned, an ear-splitting yell exploded from the mini-receiver that Dick wore behind his ear: "WOOOO HOOOOO!!!!!"

Dick grimaced in pain, and he could see that even Matt was wincing from the volume of Barbara's yell. He activated the microphone in his collar.

"Uh, Babs? Are you okay?"

"I'm not just okay, I'm the best! Better than the best! WOOO --"

Dick cut off the audio feed before he lost his hearing permanently. After waiting a few seconds, he cut it back on. "Sweetheart, have you been ODing on the Zesti-Colas again?" he asked gently.

Babs snickered. "Sorry, Hunk Wonder. Just thought you'd like to know that I found Ms. Kimberly Sienkiewicz!"

Hunk Wonder? Matt mouthed at him, incredulous.

Dick shrugged and said, "That's great, Babs! Where is she, and how did you find her?"

"She's in Weston, Connecticut, and never you mind how I found her."

"You called them, didn't you?" he asked with a huge smile on his face.

"My methods are my own, Mr. Grayson."

"You did call! I suggested you call her high school classmates for information, and you did! How many'd you have to try?"

She growled, "Forty-five. Okay, I called. I was desperate."

"Glad I could be of assistance," he smirked. Feedback blasted his ear as Barbara ostentatiously cut the connection.

Dick and Matt exchanged amused grins.

~~~~~~~~~~

It wasn't until the next morning, as Dick was riding his motorcycle up I-95 towards Connecticut, that Barbara relented and gave him the rest of the information she had gathered on Kimberly Sienkiewicz.

"It turns out that the reason I couldn't trace Kimberly was because she's been living with financier Carson Dunlop under the name Kimberly Nogura. She's a signatory on his household account and on several of Dunlop's credit cards, which probably explains why she hasn't had a job in two years."

"Oh, I'd say she had a job, all right," Dick quipped.

Barbara cleared her throat. "Dunlop's probably rather gun-shy about marriage. According to my records, he's paying pretty hefty alimony and child support to two ex-wives and three children."

"On time?"

"Automatic deposit, the first of each month."

"Good for him."

When Dick was about ten miles from Weston, Barbara contacted him again.

"The computer finally found a pattern on the murder dates!" she exclaimed. "And it's weird."

"A woman who goes around picking up guys and then killing them is not exactly normal, my dearest darling," he said, laughing.

"This is weird, even for that. Look, we figured there had to be some sort of pattern in the timing of the murders, right?"

"I'm not sure I said there 'had to be' a pattern, just that I thought that, having waited this long to begin killing these men, it was likely there would be some underlying pattern to the dates of the murders."

"Whatever," Barbara sighed. "Anyway, I finally took all the dates in this case I could find and tossed them at one of my search programs. Turns out that of the four murders, three took place on the victim's mother's birthday."

"What?!"

"And the remaining murder was committed the day after the mother's birthday. Anyone want to believe this is sheer coincidence?"

"Yeah, right," Dick snorted. "I suppose you've looked up Mrs. O'Reilly's birthday?"

"We're in luck. Mrs. O'Reilly will be turning 57 next week."

"Wow! So even if Kimberly falls through as a suspect, we have a definite time frame to shadow the O'Reillys."

"Actually, I think we can limit ourselves to just one O'Reilly. According to the operatives I've got on them now, John O'Reilly is a very happily married man with two young kids. His older brother Jim, on the other hand, just went through a nasty split-up with his girlfriend and is hitting the club scene with a vengeance."

"John's in Rhode Island, and Jim's in New York, right?" Dick asked. For some reason, he had a hard time keeping the two men straight.

"Yep."

Dick turned onto Hidden Meadow Road and whistled.

"What's that, Dick?"

"These are some nice houses! Not as fancy as the Manor, of course," he said, hastily, feeling sure Alfred would know if he failed to show the proper respect. "You said it was at the end of the street?"

"Yeah. These are large lots, so you should be able to set up some decent surveillance."

"We'll see. There're a lot of trees, which will give me some cover, but they could also get in the way."

"Whine, whine, whine," snickered Barbara.

Dick nobly ignored her. While they were talking, he found the perfect piece of camouflage for him and his bike -- the house next to Dunlop's was for sale. He pulled into the long driveway, parked his bike under the large awning next to the garage, and got off. He casually removed his helmet and wandered around the front of the house, for all the world acting as if he'd ridden here just to view this house.

His wanderings took him around the side and into the backyard, where he noted absently there was a nice pool and spa. After assuring himself that no one still lived in the house, he slipped into the wooded area that bordered the landscaped yard. In a matter of minutes, he positioned himself in a large tree that offered excellent views of the back of Dunlop's mansion. He pulled out his mini-binoculars.

"Y'know, Babs, the more I think about your date theory, the less I like Kimberly as a suspect," he said quietly.

"I know what you mean," she sighed. "If she's doing this for revenge against the fathers, why pick the mothers' birthdays?"

Suddenly, Dick nearly fell out of his tree. Righting himself, he refocused on the scene in front of him that had almost caused him to lose his balance.

"I'm afraid we're back to no suspects, Babs. There is no way Kimberly could be Munroe's killer."

"What?!"

~~ End Chapter 6 ~~