Alex Kava Bundle - Alex Kava [507]
“It’s just livor mortis,” Stolz said as if it didn’t matter. “She…or he died lying on something that had this pattern. All the blood settles. Jesus! This one smells.” He backed away, disgusted and shaking his head. “Henry, let’s call it a day. I need to get back to start doing some autopsies.”
“What about this other one?” Henry pointed to the dented barrel off to the side. Maggie hadn’t seen the contents of this one. They must have opened it before her arrival.
“Give it to Bonzado.” Stolz waved a hand over his head as he headed for the road. “It’s nothing but bones. Not much I can do with that.”
Maggie buttoned her jacket, also noticing the chill. The sun had begun to sink behind the mountain though it still seemed early. Bonzado and his students were preparing the barrel for transport as Henry gave directions and pointed to the clearing in the trees, the dirt path where the other vehicles had come in. That’s when she noticed something flapping in the breeze, something white sticking out from under the discarded lid.
“Carl,” she said, waving the tech over. “Take a look.”
He squatted down by her side. “I’ll be damned.” He pulled out an evidence bag and forceps. Gently he tugged the torn white paper from under its trap while Maggie lifted the lid.
It was the same white, waxy paper.
Just then Maggie felt a nudge at her elbow. She turned to find a Jack Russell terrier ready to lick her hand.
“Speaking of burying things,” Carl said, “if Watermeier sees that dog here again—”
“Goddamn it, Racine.”
“Too late.”
“What did I tell you, Racine?” Watermeier yelled at the old man hurrying down from a footpath in the trees. “You’ve got to keep that mutt the hell away from here.”
“Sorry, Sheriff. He has a mind of his own sometimes. Come here, Scrapple.”
But the dog was already sitting and leaning against Maggie’s hand as she scratched behind his ears.
“Well, you convince him,” Watermeier continued, “to stay the hell out of here, Racine. We can’t have him dragging off evidence.”
“I take it he’s been finding scraps?” Maggie smiled up at the old man who seemed embarrassed and agitated, shifting from one foot to the other. Then she remembered what Tully had said about Detective Racine being from this area. “Racine? Do you have daughter named Julia?”
“I don’t know,” the man mumbled, and Maggie stood up, sure she must have misunderstood him.
“Excuse me?” she said.
“Yes, I do. Jules. Her name’s Julia,” he said, his eyes meeting hers though making an effort to do so. His daughter possessed the same blue eyes. He scratched his head, reaching up under the black beret. “That’s right, Detective Julia Racine with the…with the D.C. police force. Yes, ma’am. That’s my daughter, Jules.”
CHAPTER 23
Luc Racine fumbled with the tangle of keys he found in his pocket. Scrapple waited impatiently, staring at the door as if that might help open it. He knew the terrier was upset with him. He had ducked several attempts Luc had made to pet him.
“I’m not gonna have you eating people, okay?” he told the dog for the third time. “Even if they are dead already.” Only now Scrapple ignored him—not a flinch, not even a perk of an ear, no indication that he was listening—and he continued to stare at the door.
Luc would make it up to him. Surely there was something in the refrigerator besides sour milk. He sorted through the keys again, trying to concentrate, trying to remember. He used to be able to pull out the house key automatically without a second thought. These days it seemed to take all his deductive reasoning, or at least, all that remained.
Then as if in a sudden flash he remembered. He grabbed at the doorknob and smiled when it turned easily. He had stopped locking the door, afraid he would eventually forget to take the keys and lock himself out. Relief