“Isn’t that Buck’s case?”
“Apparently, now it’s ours.”
“Ouch.”
“Yup.”
We approached the body that was covered with a black bag, watching John Smith take the photos. He was a damn good forensic analyst, but a creepy individual if I were perfectly honest. Eerily silent, unnaturally calm, and with the presence of a ghost, he seemed as if he didn’t belong on an earthly plane. His looks were average by any means except for the one in his pants, if you believed the rumor. Ruth from HR circled it after witnessing John Smith’s scalpel accident that left him pants-less and almost ball-less.
“You didn’t live a healthy life, did you, Boris?” John Smith murmured, unaware of our presence. “To be honest, I’m not a runner myself.”
According to another rumor, John Smith talked to the corpses he worked on, but I never believed it until now. It was disturbing shit if I ever saw one… or heard one.
“He’s crazier than I am,” Maddox said, not bothering to lower his voice.
John Smith turned abruptly, looking startled. “Maddox! You’re back. Why?”
Maddox grinned, raising his arms in surrender.
“I merely accompanied my esteemed colleagues. I’m loving the welcome, though.”
John Smith mumbled something unintelligible, fiddling with a camera in his hand.
“He doesn’t like me very much,” Maddox said, yawning. “Anyway, I’m off.”
I swallowed the “I would beg to differ,” ignoring Jordan’s confused look.
“John Smith, what do you have for us?” I said instead, putting on my gloves.
John Smith raised the bag that covered the body and presented us with the sight of the now-dead Boris Flynn. Thelawyer looked almost asleep, apart from the bullet wound on his forehead.
“A single, clean shot to the head did it,” John Smith stated. “The victim stopped breathing before he hit the ground.”
“A professional hitman?”
“Judging by the precision of the shot, I’d say yes. Also, if I had to guess, the bullet came out of a Beretta 71. I’ll confirm it after a ballistics match.”
“Okay. Send us the reports as soon as you have them.”
I already knew our chances of finding the killer were slim, which only made me more determined to find him. I certainly wasn’t letting Bull raise hell in this shitty town, no matter how shitty it was.
“What’s this?” Jordan said, crouching next to the body. He pointed his gloved finger at the red discoloration on the victim’s neck beneath the collar.
“It’s a hickey, my innocent child,” I replied, making John Smith choke on a laugh.
Jordan blushed, but the way he glared at me told me I should shut my mouth if I wanted to keep my sleep token.
“Has the next of kin been notified?” Jordan asked instead of retaliating.
“Yes,” I confirmed. “Flynn’s ex-wife is in Bermuda. She told Maddox, and this is a direct quote, ‘I’ll get on the first plane so I can piss all over that cheating bastard’s corpse’. His staff has been notified, too. The only living person still unaware of his passing is his dominatrix.”
“I’m guessing you want to do the honors?” Jordan said, laughing at his own joke.
“Not quite my kink,” I replied dryly. “No, I’ll visit the nearby shops and see if I can find footage that will help us solve this. You talk to the eyewitnesses and see if we missed something.”
As it turned out, my suspicions were correct. The few shops that looked as if they ran a legitimate business weren’t of any help. They either didn’t have cameras, or they had faulty cameras, or the footage was blurry. After that, Jordan and I headed to Flynn’s office to talk to the staff, which was another dead end.
When I finally got home, I was hungry, tired, and in need of a friendly voice. Since I didn’t have any friends, I dialed a number I usually used for emergencies, and I bought myself one.
