it was happening more and more frequently.
FOUR
A lexander Howell’s body was covered by a sheet. Jesse reached up and lifted the covering away from the dead man’s face.
The skin was a light shade of blue by now and the body was already stiff. He looked critically at the evidence of internal bleeding around the chin and neck, then, with thumb and forefinger, tilted the dead man’s chin up so he could see the entry wound. He nodded once when he saw it. It was as he had suspected when Lee had first described the injury. He flipped the sheet back over the victim’s face and rolled the drawer back in again. He stripped off the surgical gloves and dropped them in a bin.
“Seen enough?” Lee was watching him expectantly.
“It looks like what I thought it might be,” he replied and she cocked her head interrogatively, motioning for him to continue.
“Looks like a jigger,” he explained.
Lee frowned. “A jigger? What in all hell is a jigger?” she asked. He wiped his hands absentmindedly on his jeans. In spite of the gloves, his fingers still felt slightly clammy and cold from their contact with the corpse. They always did. He knew it was his imagination, but he kept on wiping them anyway.
“Very popular with the white street gangs down in Aurora a few years back,” he explained. “Full name was a ‘Nigger Jigger.’ ”
He saw the instant look of distaste cross Lee’s face and hurriedly disclaimed, “I didn’t make the name up, Lee. Just telling you what they called it.”
She leaned her rump on the edge of the autopsy table behind her.
“Okay, so what exactly is a jigger?” she asked.
“Basically, it’s a spring-loaded spike concealed in a handle-usually about ten inches long. You cock the spike down into the handle, place it under the chin of your victim and release the trigger.”
Lee was nodding her understanding. “And the spring does the rest.” she said. “That explains how such a powerful blow can be delivered with such accuracy.”
He nodded. “Exactly. And, the handle itself can be disguised as something totally innocuous. Then you just have to poke it at your victim, hit the trigger and—bing!” He gestured to show how easy it could be.
Lee began to pace around the room, talking as she went, more to herself than him.
“So … we’re looking for someone who used to be in one of those white street gangs down in Aurora …” she said.
Jesse shrugged. “Maybe. Or maybe someone who just knows how to make himself a jigger.”
She stopped and looked at him. “Do you enjoy making things hard for an honest cop?” she asked, with a slight smile.
He spread his hands in a helpless gesture. “It’s the only way honest cops like it,” he said.
She gave him that same exasperated look. “You want a coffee?” she asked and he nodded his acceptance. She led the way out of the cold room, switching off the light behind them and continued up to her office on the next floor. Tom Legros was on duty and she sent him to get them both a cup of coffee from the kitchen they shared with the fire brigade. She unbuckled her gunbelt and dropped it, clattering, on the desktop. Then she dropped into her seat and swung her boots up onto the scarred wood beside the gun.
Jesse eyed the single action .44 Magnum in the holster with amused tolerance.
“Still using that old Ruger, I see?” he asked her.
“Never saw a reason to change,” she replied.
Jesse pursed his lips slightly as he considered her answer. “You should try one of those new Berettas they’re issuing these days,” he suggested.
Lee shook her head slowly. “Not fond of autos,” she replied. “One round jams and that’s all she wrote. At least with a revolver, you can just roll right on to the next chamber.”
“So … look after your ammunition and make sure you don’t have a round jamming. With one of those Berettas, you can crank off thirteen nine-millimeter rounds before the bad guy has a chance to move.”
Lee