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the right, adjacent to a waiting room containing four upholstered chairs, a glass coffee table and a built in bookshelf filled with neatly shelved hard covers. The walls were cream colored with hand painted faux vines.
    “Call an ambulance!”
    Robert had dropped behind the desk where an elderly woman lay motionless on her stomach, an overturned wire basket on the floor next to her. Blood dripped from a deep gash on the back of her head. Shards from the crystal vase that had hit her were scattered about the floor next to a small pair of binoculars.
    “No pulse,” Robert said weakly. He noted the woman's comfort shoes; they were tan with laces, the exact pair his grandma Betty started wearing last year after her knee surgery. Was that a tear he felt on his lip, or was his nose running? He looked away from the body and willed himself to focus on three tiny white tubes that had evidently spilled from the basket. Dead Sea Mineral Exfoliant. This was Robert’s first dead body and he was beginning to feel dizzy. Do not pass out, he told himself. The last thing he needed was to hear it later from the guys down at the station.
    Do not pass out. Focus on the lotion.
    There were some foreign letters printed on the tubes above the English —Hebrew , Robert figured, relieved to be feeling stronger by the second.
    The sounds of feet running up the pavement meant that backup had arrived.
    “Ambulance is thirty seconds behind us,” one of the backup officers announced. “And we have four men surrounding the building.”
    The paramedics flew in and began attending to the woman.
    “You all right there partner?” John asked, patting Robert on the shoulder. He took note of the binoculars and lotion samples, glad that his partner had the wherewithal not to touch anything.
    Robert removed his hat and wiped some sweat from his brow. “Yeah, fine man. I'm good.”
    “Good, because chances are the perp's still here,” John said. “You're sure you can do this?”
    “Just lead the way,” Robert said, flipping his hat on.
    The hallway runner was soiled with mud. There were six closed doors along the walls—three on the left directly across from three on the right. In a less tense situation, Robert might have done his Scooby Doo impersonation, the one that drove his girlfriend nuts.
    “You take the right; I'll go left,” John said, gesturing with his chin.
    Hand squarely on his holster, Robert tipped open the first door. It was a large bathroom with a separate tub and shower, toilet and sink. A Granite countertop was covered with an array of neatly placed women's toiletries—makeup remover, Q-tips, toothpaste, floss, tweezers, comb, nail clippers. A wrap around mirror extended from the counter to the ceiling. Robert briefly caught his reflection and cringed. His eyes were bloodshot and he looked frazzled. But who wouldn’t be after discovering a dead woman? He slid open the tinted shower door—cobalt blue tiles with white edging. Inside were a few bottles of shampoo, soft soap and a mesh sponge . To the right of the shower, three terrycloth robes hung loosely on wood hangers; next to them, a shelf held a neat stack of white towels and washcloths. Must be some kind of spa for women , Robert thought. Women loved this shit, especially his girlfriend. With all her talk about facials and massages, this was her kind of place. It looked like someone had poured some serious money into this place, too. Robert checked the cabinet under the sink—just ordinary rolls of toilet paper and boxes of tissues—then backed out of the room.
    “Full bathroom?” John asked, nearly bumping into him.
    “Yeah, how'd you know?”
    “Because that’s what all five of the other rooms are, and they’re practically identical.”
    Then they heard it—a low moan coming from the far end of the building. Without hesitating, and with John leading the way, they bolted toward the source of the sound. Rounding the corner, they stopped at the side of a closed