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Excerpt: THE CRIME SCENE


“Thought this one would interest you,” Detective Wallace said from behind me.

“Larynx crushed?” I asked.

“Yep. But you’ve got a little addition.”

“What?” I said, tearing my gaze from the neck. I still hadn’t gotten used to the gruesome sight of the linked bruise marks and tiny chain cuts. Hell of a way to go.

“Look in his left hand,” Wallace directed.

I straightened, shifting my attention past the hairy torso and along his arm to his hand, half hidden by the flabby body. “He’s holding a paper bag,” I said, noticing a dark stain that seemed to have spread from where he gripped the bag.

“Look inside.”

I rose, walked around the body, then knelt beside him again, retrieving a pen from my breast pocket. I stuck the tip inside the bag. Lifting the edge of the mouth, I peered inside, sniffing at the contents. “What the—” I looked at Wallace. “It’s a pickle.”