Exasperated, he stood in Pinter’s bedroom and looked around the room. His eyes settled on the three drawer dresser and the top open drawer, which he’d already searched. It was full of women’s padded bras. His brow furrowed. “Maybe,” he whispered, “Just maybe.”
He went out to Pinter’s lifeless body lying on the wet and bloodstained Berber carpet. He bent down and tore the bloody silk blouse and bra from the body. Wayde stood up and turned the bra inside out. Pinned inside was the jagged piece of red paper. Smiling, Wayde removed the claim check piece and dropped the bra to the floor.
He placed the red puzzle piece securely in the small pocket in his belt. He picked up his car keys and the stiletto with the small one-bullet chamber at one end and the retracted blade at the other. He looked
