A uniform from the SQ was sliding a deer rifle across the counter I waited while the clerk fil ed out forms, handed the officer a receipt, then tagged the gun and carried it to the storage area. When she returned I showed her the Cherokee case numbers.

"Could you check to see if the evidence inventory includes an athletic cap?"

"There was a long list for that case," she said, entering the number into a computer. "This may take a moment."

Her eyes scanned the screen.

"Yes, here it is. There was a cap." She read the text. "It went to biology for testing on a bloodstain, but it's back."

She disappeared into the shelves and returned after several minutes with a Ziploc plastic bag. In it I could see the red cap.

"Do you need to sign it out?"

"If it's al right I'l just take a look at it here."

"Sure."

I zipped open the seal and slid the cap onto the counter Gently raising the brim, I studied the hat's interior There it was. Dandruff.

I resealed the cap and thanked the technician. Then I flew to my office and snatched up the phone.

Chapter 35

Claudel and Quickwater were not at Carcajou Headquarters. Neither Claudel nor Charbonneau was at CUM headquarters. I left messages, and returned to Ronald Gilbert's office.

"Thanks for the tape."

"Did it help?"

"May I ask you about something?"

"Please."

"Do you remember the corner of the room with the guitar and birdcage stacked against the wal ?"

"Yes."

"There was a cap there."

"I remember it."

"Did you make observations on the bloodstaining?"

"Certainly."

"I'm interested in the cap's position at the time of the murder. Would your notes have anything on that?"

"I don't need my notes. I recal perfectly. The stain and spatter on the cap came from the blunt object attack near that corner,"

"Not the gunshot."

"No. That would look quite different. And the orientation of the spatter was consistent with the type of assault we discussed."

"With Cherokee lying on the floor."

"Yes."

"Was he wearing the cap?"

"Oh my, no. That's impossible. The cap was behind the birdcage when struck by most of the spatter.

"How did it get there?"

"It was probably flung there during the struggle."

"How do you know that?"

"There was blood under as wel as on the cap. The assailant probably lost it in the frenzy of the attack."

"Cherokee was not wearing it?"

"I'd bet my life on it.

"Thanks."

Back in my office I looked at the clock. Ten-thirty. I had no message slips. I had no case requests.

I drummed my fingers and stared at the phone, wil ing it to ring. It didn't. Not optimistic, I dialed Harry's number in Houston, then listened to a recording in very bad Spanish. I tried Kit, got my own voice.

Damn. Where was everybody?