Page 133 of Property of Bob

There were six of us crammed inside. Anchor, Skull, Vin, Piney, Post, and me.

Skull stood beside one of the filing cabinets with his arms crossed over his chest. “We’ve already been through here.”

“Not like this,” Anchor replied. “I want every eye looking at every speck of dust in this place. There has to be something in here that will connect us to the killer.”

Post looked at the desk. “Computer?”

“Already went through it,” Anchor said. “Nothing.”

“Nothing obvious,” I corrected.

Skull pushed away from the cabinet. “Then we look until we know.” That was good enough for me.

I looked toward Ron’s chair. I’d never paid much attention to the guy.

That bothered me now.

How many times had I walked past him? How many times had one of us talked to him while he knew somebody was watching us? Had he known Bernice was going to die? Had he known I was going to get my throat cut?

My jaw tightened.

“Bob.”

I looked over.

Anchor was watching me.

“I’m good.”

“I didn’t ask,” he grunted.

“You were going to.”

His mouth pulled slightly at one corner. “Maybe.” He looked around the room. “Let’s get started.”

We did.

Piney and Post took the filing cabinets.

Vin went through the computer again.

Anchor started with the desk drawers.

Skull took the shelves.

I stood there for half a second trying to figure out where I was going to be useful. Then I noticed the trash can tucked beneath the far side of the desk. I grabbed it.

Post looked over. “Really?”

“What?” I asked.

“Everybody gets drawers and computers. You get a tiny garbage can,” he scoffed.

“Fuck you. Like you want me looking over your shoulder.” I sat in the chair across from Ron’s desk and pulled the trash can between my legs.

There wasn’t much in there other than a few scraps stuck at the bottom.

Nothing.