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None of the murder mysteries Dale had read mentioned the vital importance of wearing underwear when talking to the police.
Sweatpants offered minimal decency. The officer let him add a clean T-shirt, socks, and shoes before escorting him to the fourth floor. Dale felt horribly exposed the whole while, like he was being paraded naked. The perception of brittleness had worn off, but Dale felt beyond tired. He’d failed to sleep, but now that he was out of bed his whole body ached for warm blankets in his cool room. Instead, his sore feet trudged through warm humid hallways, staring at the officer’s unyielding back.
Detective McComas had claimed the room where the sysadmin party was held, right next to the closed-off stairwell. All but two of the chairs had been folded up and stacked aga
