Page 26 of Cold, Cold Bones
“Got one name. Some of the brain trust thought a gardener was weird. Otherwise, nada. They all agreed the crapper’s been abandoned for decades.”
“Except for occasional trash disposal.”
“Except for that.”
Slidell’s engine cut off. I figured he was headed for lunch.
“I pulled the file on that old case I mentioned.” Wanting to discuss Sanchez before Skinny moved on to his Whopper or Big Mac.
“Scrappy.” Followed by an impatient sigh.
“I see parallels. Scrappy’s ear was found in one place, the rest of him in another. His body was missing its heart, liver, and kidneys.”
“Like I said. Organs. Not an eyeball. And Scrappy was a banger. Different MO. Different COD. Remember the fifteen stab wounds?”
“Both cases involve knives,” I said.
“Are you listening to me? Scrappy was a gang hit.”
I hated to admit it, but I suspected Slidell was right.
“Shall I brief Detective Henry, or would you prefer to do it?” I asked.
“I’m not sure about that dame.”
“Because she’s a dame working homicide?”
“Because she acts like a goddam rookie.”
“Henry spent several years with the LAPD.”
“Doing what? Traffic busts?”
“She was a detective. I didn’t ask what division.”
“Did you know that besides her issue, the dipshit packs a .380 ACP backup, hides a sap in her waistband, and wears a knife strapped to one ankle? Regular Dirty Harry.”
“She told you that?” I didn’t point out that Dirty Harry carried a Smith and Wesson Model 29.
“Yeah.”
“That makes her a dipshit?”
“No. The fact she told me makes her a dipshit.”
Katy phoned as I was descending the front steps of the MCME.
“Hey, sweetie. What’s up?”
“A clock, a spice rack, a bed, and two shelves.”
“Progress.”
“Dad came by. He’s hopeless with anything mechanical.”
“I know.” God, did I know. “But he’s a good lawyer.”
“He installed the cordless vac charger upside down. Are you aware he’s leaving for the Seychelles tomorrow?”
