pride."
Grinning, J.J. threw an arm over my shoulder. "No you don't, Buzz–who are you trying to kid? How about it? I'll also squeeze your expenses out of the training budget. Will that do it for you?"
I felt myself wavering, but I held my ground. "Plus an Unmarked for the duration?"
J.J. gave me an incredulous look. "You want an unmarked squad too? Why don't you bleed me some more? How about a new grill and a year's supply of beer to go with all that?"
Confident now, I crossed my arms over my chest. "No, my grill is just fine, thank you very much, but I could use a year's supply of dog food. Just the squad and a free hand in the lab should do."
Being an intelligent man, Sheriff Green knew when he'd been beaten. "I'll go for the dog food, Buzz, but the only squad I have is mine, so forget it. Now let's go and see what Malcolm has to say." He grabbed me by the belt loops and yanked me against his side. I yelped and he noogied the heck out of the top of my head.
"Cut it out you moron, I said I'd help!" I jabbed him in the ribs with my fist.
He let out a whoosh of air and let me go. He shot me an injured look. I smiled, savoring my victory. It would have been cheaper for them to buy me a squad rather than to feed Wesley and Hilary for a year! We strolled back into the melee, where Mee-Me was gloved up and doing an initial examination of the body, ignoring the chaos still reigning around him. Moe, Larry, and Shemp strung police tape around the box, while Curly attempted to make time with Al.
Mee-Me looked up from his clipboard, reminding me somewhat of an adorable, near-sighted Bulldog. "Hey, Buzz, hey J.J. Too bad about Miz Carole, eh?" We both nodded.
J.J. rubbed the back of his neck. "I just can't imagine who would want to kill her."
Malcolm pointed to the body with his pen and said, "I don't know who, but I have a hunch about how she died. Want to hear it?"
We both nodded and looked solemnly on while Mee-Me extrapolated in great medical detail about his initial examination. Our eyes began to cross and I elbowed J.J. When Mee-Me finally took a breath, J.J. interrupted him. "So in your professional opinion, Malcolm, what does all that mean?"
Mee-me shrugged and considered his notes for a few minutes. He sighed heavily and scratched his brow. "All that means, ladies and gentlemen, is that she is dead. Murdered, actually, and with great prejudice."
3
J.J. expelled an exasperated breath. "Come on, Malcolm, a blind man could see she's dead. Hell, he'd only have to take a whiff around here to know someone was dead! I'm thinking she didn't crawl under there by herself and die of natural causes, so cut the crap. I meant what is your unofficial opinion? What's your initial, unconfirmed best guess at what happened here?"
Malcolm became serious. He consulted his notes, checking off points. "Well, I see numerous contusions and lacerations on her arms and face. Doesn't look like anything is broken–except maybe her nose. Her hands are in tough shape, however. She has been beaten, dragged, and if the bullet hole between her eyes is any indication, I'd say she was either shot by a very good marksman or executed. I can't tell that until I do powder testing. Until I get her down to the cool room (Mee-me hated the word 'morgue'), I cannot be any more specific than that."
J.J. whistled. "That was specific enough. Thanks, Malcolm. Any thoughts on how long she's been dead? Ballpark?"
"I can't give you that with any amount of accuracy until we run tests, J.J. Normally I could look at the body and hypothesize according to our weather and the extent of decay, but the Miller girls kind-of wrecked that theory when they fell into the evidence."
J.J. continued speaking quietly with Malcolm. I walked back over toward the body. I crossed my arms and said, "Damn, I was afraid of that. Don't let that worry you Carole, we'll get him."
The longer I studied her body the more I felt that old, eerie calm settled over me.