I4

I4

"We found it," Bob said,  "Just like you guessed,  Sheriff, not more than throwing distance from the body."

The blade was thin and flexible. It was just a steak knife.

Roddy picked up the bag and frowned  with disappointment. "This game isn't as fun when the other side isn't even trying to win. Not a Sears Roebuck kitchen knife: no, something handmade.'

Next came a  duty  Sheriff  Walker found  to  be  every bit  as distasteful as  his father described. Roddy recalled the recent death of Erik Zinter. How does one tell a  newly-widowed woman that her entire family has been wiped off the face of the earth?

The young woman who answered the door was not Clara Zinter. Her hair was a rich, dark red. She had eyes that were a light, icy green, striking for being  so rare,  but she  was a  little too chubby even for a time before models made being  as skinny as a beanpole sexy. What stood out to Roddy, however, was the horns. She had two white horns  on her head  just like the  victim. In fact, Roddy was looking at the spitting image  of the deceased. She stood in the doorway patiently waiting for him to speak. He pulled out his file to be sure. Identical. So this must be Kim's twin sister. He cleared his throat and said,  "Good afternoon. I'm Sheriff Walker. Is Mrs. Clara Zinter at home?"

"Mother isn't here anymore," the  young lady said,  "She's with her own  folks in Pennsylvania. I'm  Robyn. Do you want  to come in?  I'm sure  you have  questions and  it will  be better  than standing here in the doorway."

Roddy took off  his hat  and accepted  her offer. The hardwood floors were covered with throw-rugs. He could smell the light odor of a gas furnace. A radio tuned to Headwater's one station was playing "I've Got a Gal  in Kalamazoo" by Glenn  Miller and His Orchestra. Robyn turned it down.

The sheriff said, "Please, Robyn,  if you could turn  the radio off entirely. I afraid I have very bad news for you."

The girl complied, then she invited the sheriff to be seated. He did so and got the overall impression that the Zinter family was firmly situated in the middle-class. Not destitute by any means, but not ostentatious either. A small coffee table  lay between them. Robyn smoothed out her plaid dress and Roddy saw that she wore bobby socks and saddle shoes. "You were about to tell me that you found the body of my sister," Robyn said, "and that she had been brutally stabbed to death."