Janice Morraine took it from me, glanced inside, then closed it back up. “Thanks,” she said, wrinkling her nose in distaste at the smell. “Where’d this come from, a dry cleaners?” “A Damm Fine Carpets van,” I replied. “You don’t need to get pissed off about it, Beau.” People in the crime lab tend to be somewhat defensive at times. “I’m not pissed,” I explained. “It’s Damm Fine Carpets. D-A-M-M. The owner’s name is Richard Damm. It’s part of the Nielsen case.” “Oh,” she said. I filled out the lab request and handed it to her. Jan signed the bottom of the form. “What are we looking for?” she asked. “Blood,” I answered. “Can you type blood even if it’s been diluted with cleaning solution?” “That depends,” she said. “See if it matches up with what came in on that carpet kicker from the crime scene on Second Avenue, will you?”
