Page 17 of Holmes Is Missing
The lock was nothing special. A stainless-steel Defiant, probably twenty-five bucks from Home Depot. Poe had it open in ten seconds. He put his hand on his Glock in its holster. Marple looked for an alarm pad or a trip wire. Listened for a dog. Scanned for cameras. Nothing. The place was quiet, and all the lights were off.
Marple stepped in beside Poe as he closed the door.
“Keelin?” she called out. “Miss Dale? Anybody home?”
No response.
They moved slowly through the living room toward the back of the unit. The apartment was small but tidy, furnished incontemporary young-adult style. Lots of medium-grade furniture, a good-sized TV, and a few discount-store shelf units.
As Marple walked through the archway into the small kitchen, she saw Poe’s head whip around, as if he’d heard something.
Then she heard it too.
A baby crying.
CHAPTER21
MARPLE RAN BACKthrough the living room to the entryway. Poe rushed up next to her. She peeked outside through the glass panel beside the front door. On the stoop next door, a Hispanic woman was unfolding a stroller with one hand, like some kind of magic trick. In the crook of her other arm, she held a red-faced baby with dark curly hair.
The crying had stopped. Now the baby looked irritated. And it was no newborn.
“Eight months at least,” whispered Marple as the woman fastened the baby into the stroller. “Probably fifteen pounds. And wrong profile.”
“Not wealthy enough?” said Poe.
“And not white enough, I suspect,” said Marple. “The two newborns whoweren’ttaken from the nursery were infants of color. One Black, one Asian. Their parents’ assets are equal to all the others. But those babies weren’t touched. I suspect we’ll find that the selection wasn’t coincidental.”
Marple turned back toward the staircase leading to the secondfloor. She and Poe both kept their backs against the wall as they climbed the steps. Poe unholstered his gun.
Marple held her small handbag close to her side. It contained her keys, her ID, and a small canister of pepper spray. Though she sometimes carried a little .22, as a rule, Marple preferred to let her partners handle the firearms.
The landing at the top was dark, but they could see a sliver of light from a partly open door on the left.
They took the rest of the stairs quickly and flattened themselves on either side of the door. Poe listened for footsteps or running water or the sound of snoring. But all he could hear was the hum of traffic from the busy street at the back of the building.
Marple peeked through the opening. She nodded at Poe. He nudged the door open and stepped into the bedroom, arms extended, pistol pointed. Marple hung tight behind him as he swept the room. Empty, except for a stripped double bed and a small dresser. Marple put her hand on another doorknob.Bathroom,she mouthed.
Poe nodded. Marple pushed the door open. Poe stepped through first. “Clear,” he said.
The Plexiglas shower stall still showed condensation, and a damp towel hung from a hook behind the door. The air smelled of lemon. Marple put her fingers on the wooden knob of the medicine cabinet door and gently tugged it open. A dozen black marbles rolled out and clattered into the sink and onto the floor tile.
“What the hell is this?” asked Poe, dodging the tiny glass balls with his feet.
Marple smiled. “It’s what a young lady does when she wants to hear if an overnight guest is going through her things.”
“That’s diabolical,” said Poe.
“My mother always set the same trap before dinner parties,” said Marple.
She leaned toward the cabinet and rustled through the narrow shelves. Nothing unusual. Deodorant. Toothpaste. Cotton balls. Aspirin. On the top shelf was an amber-colored prescription bottle with no label. Marple took it down and untwisted the lid. She shook a couple of small oval blue tablets onto her palm.
“Halcion,” she said.
“How can you tell?” asked Poe.
Marple held one of the blue pills up to his face. The word “Halcion” was imprinted on it.
“Remind me,” said Poe. “Insomnia?”