Apparently Leikman had put away the clothes he had worn that day. There was nothing around and all the hangers in the closet were in use. The hamper was in the closet, too, against the back wall, and on top of the small pile was a relatively fresh shirt, a set of underwear, and a pair of socks. Next was a set of pajamas and, under them, another shirt and more underwear and socks, one more set of pajamas—and then the bottom.

“I never saw a hamper in a closet before,” Schoenstein said. “I don’t think it’s healthy.”

It sounded right to Leland. Schoenstein was trying to get his head up. Leland said, “The important thing is, he put everything in here after one wearing. I get two wearings out of pajamas and sport shirts. In a nutty way, he was trying to be clean. It’s a good thing to know about him.”

“The poor bastard,” Curran said. “He sent his stuff out, too. All of it. The things in the drawers show that.”

“See his wallet?”

“It’s in the top drawer. I didn’t want the photographers to catch it.”

“Nice going,” Leland said. “I think we’re doing all right.”

“We have our problems,” Curran said. He was in his late thirties and had several more years’ experience than Leland. “You’re doing a good job, Joe. You’ve made some fine catches, but when Davis put the buzz on you I thought it was going to get away from you. Don’t let him make you wind up holding your ass.”

That was a Department expression for failure. “Not on this case,” Leland said.

Curran laughed. “Just take your time, that’s all.”