After sniffing her way through the kitchen and living room, Pepper padded into the bedroom. Caron and I followed at a polite distance.

Nothing at the dresser. A slight hesitation at the bed. Then the dog froze. Took a step. Paused, one forepaw six inches off the floor.

“Good girl,” Caron said softly.

Muzzle sweeping from side to side, Pepper crept across the room. At the open closet door, her snout went up and her nostrils worked the air.

Five seconds of testing, then Pepper sat, craned her head toward us, and whined.

“Good girl,” Caron said. “Down.”

Eyes glued to her handler, the dog dropped to her belly.

“Shit,” Caron said.

“What?”

Caron and I turned. Neither of us had heard Ryan step up behind us.

“She’s hit on something,” Caron said.

“How often is she right?”

“Often.”

“She alert anywhere else?”

Caron and I shook our heads.

“She ever miss?”

“Not so far.” Caron’s tone was grim. “I’ll spin her around in here once more, then take her outside.”

“Please ask the transport driver to wait,” I said. “And tell Pomier. He’s accompanying the remains to the morgue.”

“You’ve got it.”

As Caron led Pepper out, Ryan and I crossed to the closet.

The enclosure was no more than three feet by five. I pulled a chain to light the bare bulb overhead.

An iron rod held hangers, the solid kind that must have been decades old. They’d been bunched to one side, I assumed by Demers.

A wooden shelf ran the length of the closet above the rod. A collection of magazines had been transferred to the bedroom floor. Like the shelf, the door, the rod, and the knob, they were coated with Demers’s fingerprint powder.

Ryan and I spotted the vent simultaneously. It was on the ceiling, roughly centered in the closet. As our eyes met, Gioretti appeared in the doorway.

“You photograph in here?” I asked.

Gioretti nodded.

“We’re going to need a ladder and the snakehead camera.”

While we waited, Ryan filled me in on the landlord. “Stephan Paxton.” He switched to English. “The guy’ll never be addressing a Harvard graduation.”

“Meaning?”

“He’s got the brainpower of a moth. Beats me how he owns three buildings.” Ryan shook his head. “The tenant here is Alma Rogers. Paxton says she pays cash, usually three or four months in advance. Has for at least three years.”

“Rogers used an alias at the hospital?”

“Or here. But it’s the same gal. Paxton’s physical description matches that of the ER doc.”

“Yet she gave her actual address.”

“Apparently.”

I found that odd but let it go. “Is there a lease?”

“Rogers moved in with a guy named Smith. Paxton thinks maybe Smith signed something at the outset, but he’s not so good at keeping records. Says the cash in advance was lease enough for him.”

“Does Rogers work?”

“Paxton hadn’t a clue.”

“Smith?”

Ryan shrugged.

“What about the neighbors?”

“Bédard’s still making the rounds.”

At that moment the equipment arrived. As Demers positioned the ladder, Gioretti connected an apparatus that looked like a plumber’s snake to a portable DVR unit. He pushed a button, and the monitor beeped to life.