JD and I caught up with the sheriff.
Dietrich snapped photos of the deceased through the side door in the dumpster.
Brenda snapped on a pair of nitrile gloves, ready to go to work. I'm sure she wasn’t looking forward to climbing into the bin.
"Who found the body?" I asked.
The sheriff pointed to a homeless guy standing nearby in tattered clothes. “Said he climbed into the dumpster to rummage through it and found the deceased.
"Scared the bejesus out of me," he said, standing within earshot. He staggered close, and the whiskey on his breath hit us with a sour gust. "I figured I oughta tell somebody. I went down to that convenience store on the corner of Hibiscus and Industry andtold them to call you boys. I didn't want anybody to think I’d done it. I don't need that kind of trouble in my life."
"What's your name, sir?"
"You can call me Hank.”
Hank looked somewhat familiar. I was sure we had talked to him previously about Jesse.
He was in his mid-40s with saggy, puffy blue eyes and a face like the flats of Death Valley. A few of his teeth had gone AWOL. Skinny as a rail, and weathered beyond his years, I figured he'd been on the street for a long time. Probably decades.
Blood stained the gravel and asphalt by the dumpster. It looked like the deceased had been killed outside and moved into the bin. Crusted blood stained the rusted green metal around the side door.
I moved to the dumpster and peered inside. The sour stench of trash, urine, and death twisted my nose.
What I saw in the dumpster knotted my stomach. I clenched my jaw and may have grumbled an expletive or two.
"What's the matter?" Daniels asked.
"That's Shane Dalton's brother, Wade."
Blood stained his shirt. He’d taken one to the chest and another to the forehead.
"Friend of yours?"
"I just met him the other day. Served in the Navy with his brother."
"Got any idea why he's in the dumpster?”
22
Wade looked like he'd been roughed up before he was shot. Bruising around his eyes left them dark and purple. Abrasions on his cheeks and a split lip added to his unsightly makeover.
The watch on his wrist told me this wasn't a random mugging.
This was personal. Wade had pissed somebody off.
I caught Daniels up to speed on my theory.
He groaned. "That's it. I'm taking you two off this case. You know the deceased. You’re too close to it."
"Oh no. You can't do that."
"I can do whatever I want."
"Whoever he stole from, killed him," I said. "That much was obvious."
"Who did he steal from?"
"We’re still working on it.”
