WHILE RICKY MALCOLM SLEPT in  nike heels a holding cell on the tenth floor at 850 Bryant, I opened the door to his second-floor, one-bedroom apartment over the Shanghai China restaurant on Mission. Then Conklin, McNeil, Chi, and I stepped jordan heels  inside. A faint stink of decomposing flesh hit me as soon as I crossed the threshold.

"Smell that?” I said to Cappy  nike high heels McNeil. Cappy had been on the force for twenty-five years and had seen more than his share of dead.

He nodded. "Think he left Red Bottom Shoes one of those bags of body parts behind?”

"Or maybe he just kept  nike high heelsa souvenir. A finger. Or an ear.”

McNeil and his partner, the lean and resourceful Paul Chi, headed for the kitchen while Conklin and I took the bedroom.

There was a pull-shade in the one window. I gave nike heels it a yank and it rolled up with a bang, throwing Ricky Malcolm's boudoir into a dim morning light. The room was a study in filth. The sheets nike heels were bunched to one side of the stained mattress, and cigarette butts floated inside a coffee mug on the nightstand. Dinner plates balanced on the dresser and the television set, forks congealed in the remains of  Nike High Heels whatever Malcolm had eaten in the last week or two.

I opened the drawer in the nightstand, found  nike heels a couple of joints, assorted pharmaceuticals, a strip of Rough Riders. McNeil came into the room, looked around, said, "I like  jordan heels what he's done with the place.”

"Find anything?”

"No. And unless Ricky dismembered nike high heels  Campion with a four-inch paring knife, the blade's not in the kitchen. By the way, the smell is stronger in here.”

Conklin opened the closet, searched  Jordan Heels pockets and shoes, then went to the dresser. He tossed out T-shirts and porn magazines, but I was the one who found the dead mouse under a steel-toed work boot behind the door.

"Whoaaa. I think  Nike Heels I found it.”

"Nice door prize,” McNeil cracked.

Four hours went by, and after turning over every stinking thing in Malcolm's apartment, Conklin sighed Nike High Heels  his disappointment.

"There's no weapon here.”

"Okay, then,” I said. "I guess we're done.”

We stepped out into the street as the flatbed truck pulled up to the curb. CSIs hooked up Malcolm's '97 Ford pickup, and we stood by as the truck rattled noisily up the hill on the way to the crime lab. McNeil and Chi took off in their squad car, and Conklin and I got  Nike Heels into ours.

Conklin said, "I'll bet you a hundred bucks, or dinner - your choice, Lindsay -”

I laughed at his girl-magnet smile.

"I'll bet you Michael Campion's DNA is somewhere inside the bed of that truck.”

"I don't want to bet,” I said. "I want you to be right.”

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