He stares at me and then raises an eyebrow. “You think I’m all-knowing? You’ve probably already figured it out.”
“Did he have any known allergies?”
“Yes, a minor bee allergy.”
“Hmm…”
“You think something stung him?”
“Hmm…”
Jesse scowls. “I like how you’re pestering me for answers, but the second I ask a question, you’re all ‘hmm’ this and ‘hmm’ that.”
“Hmm.”
“I’m going to kick your ass,” he growls.
“I’d love to see you try,” I say.
“Don’t test me. I know how to dice up bodies.”
I do too, Jesse. I do too.
Of course I don’t say that, but the grin I give him must unsettle him enough that he gives me a huff.
“I believe he had a reaction to something. During the autopsy, I was able to identify parts of his respiratory structure that showed distress. Kind of hard when I only have a head to work with. I can’t identify what the lungs are doing since there are no lungs left. Let me see what the lab gets back to me.”
“The lab likes to take their sweet fucking time. They like to go, ‘Oh, we must send this out in a hurry,’ and then I firmly believe they’re sending it to some remote location up in the North Pole where Santa must ride his little reindeer up to thelab, and then they go, ‘Come back in two weeks and we’llthinkabout analyzing this.’”
Jesse smirks. “Yes, that’s definitely where we send it. The North Pole. Santa hand-delivers it. I like that part.”
“Thank you. Well, I’m off. Let me know if you find something useful.”
“I’m filled with useful stuff.”
“Hmm,” I say. The door opens and Michaels looks in.
“Pérez, a moment?” Michaels asks.
Jesse puts the head away, as though he’s telling me that I can’t touch when he’s not around to watch. Like what does he think I’m going to do with the head? Practice shooting hoops? He’s really so picky.
I pull my gloves off while looking him in the eyes and he gives me an encouraging nod. “Good boy.”
“Thank you, sir,” I say, which seems to cause him some confusion and mild discomfort.
“I’ll tell you about another idea I had when I get back,” he tells me as he heads out the door to join Michaels.
I start for the door before pausing and veering over to Jesse’s computer since mine is an elevator ride away. The older lady, who has worked down here since dinosaurs existed, is keeled over her keyboard. Her report currently has a whole line of “LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL”s splattered across it and they just keep going.
I slide up to Jesse’s computer and input his password which really shouldn’t be the name of his creepy tarantula and a few symbols and numbers. Like, Jesse, come on.
One could say I shouldn’t have stared at him logging into his computer a while back, but I do feel like I have a right to do as I please. As I wait for it to load up, I draw him a note to let him know that I was here and hang it above his monitor.
He has at least fifty-two tabs up, so I click a random one and see that he was researching insect bites. The stubborn man was obviously on the same track as me, which annoys me when he shows his smarts. But the real question is, has he narrowed it down? The man is obsessed with insects, so he has to know more than I do… which also annoys me.
I read the article he has up, but it seems like it’d be rather hard to kill a man with insects. One could go the Japanese giant hornet route, but I’m not even sure if they have such things at the zoo. And if they do, how would you coerce them to chase down the right man and assassinate him?
But if this was a crime committed by an insect that the zoo displays, then it wasverypremeditated.
