She didn't look as though she were asleep. They never do. She looked
dead. She'd been head down in the sewer, and the blood had pooled and
coagulated in her head and shoulders. Now that the filth had been
washed off, the dark purple of the dead blood cells showed through the
translucent skin. She would look better after she was embalmed.
Doc Prouty was holding up a small syringe, eying the little bit of
fluid within it. "We've got him," he said in a flat voice. "I'll have
the lab run an analysis. We're well within the time limit. All we have
to do is separate the girl's blood type from that of the spermatic
fluid. You boys find your man, and I can identify him for you." He
put the syringe in its special case. "I'll let you know the exact
cause of death in a couple of hours."
"O.K., Doc. Thanks," said Inspector Kleek, closing his notebook. He
turned to one of the other men. "Thompson, you notify the parents. Get
'em down here to make a positive identification, and send it along to
my office with the print identification." Then he looked at me.
"Anything extra you want, Roy?"