The chief took us down to the station. I wore a fedora, Lulu wore handcuffs. The desk sergeant started processing the precinct’s number one murder suspect.
“By the way,” the sergeant said, “those lab results came back.” He handed the chief a folder.
After studying it for a moment, the chief stared at me long and hard. “When I heard you had those prints lifted, I sent them down to central for a full ID check. Just standard procedure. Guess who prints were on that glass, Smellephant?”
“Ok, I give up,” I shrugged.
The chief nodded toward Lulu. “This gal’s dead dad.”
I gave him a steady look. “What are you implying?”
“Isn’t it obvious? This puts the victim at your place, and we know you and the dame have been playing patty cake. We also know she’s been impersonating her sister.”
“Chief, are you’re saying…”
“You know exactly what I’m saying. You two were in this together, killed Winthrop for his dough.”
“But I’m the one who brought the prints to Hu in the first place.”
“Thought you were being cute bringing in that glass and teacup, didn’t you? We find the same prints on both, and everyone thinks there’s only one dame. But you got unlucky — you picked up the wrong glass.”
“But why would Winthrop come to my place?”
“Not for me to say. I guess that part of the story died with him. But it connects you to the murder. Looks like you outsmarted yourself this time, Smellephant. Sarge, book him.”