Later that week, Tom and Sergeant Ross came to visit me. They had the poker wrapped up in plastic, and drew it out to show me. It looked like it always did, and they asked me to identify it. I turned it over in gloved hands, like they asked me to, and nodded.
“Looks like my mom"s old poker,” I said. “Got the blacksmith"s mark on it, JB, just like always. Cleaner than I usually seen it, Tom.”
“Don"t you think this dark stuff looks like dried blood, Ross?” Tom asked. He handled the poker like it was still hot.
“The lab in Victoria will tell us soon enough,” the sergeant replied. “All we got to do is figure out who dropped it in under the float house. You say your neighbors in the boat saw it?”
“Yeah, you can talk to them. The Hoffmans, in the big boat Catherine to the north of me. But I
