Page 27 of Manner of Death

It wasn’t the first time Sawyer had admonished himself since getting here—two minutes before Bashir, and it had taken all of his self-control not to stare at him as he got out of his car, like his appearance would have changed in twenty minutes.

It kind of had, though. The man Sawyer had gone to dinner with—funny and relatable and clever—was still there, but he was covered by the veneer of the very professional Dr. Ramin, who put on his gloves, mask, and shoe covers with the air of someone beginning a solemn ritual before going over to the body.

The very, very curious body.

“It’s weird, right?” Huerta murmured to Sawyer as they stood aside and let Bashir get to work.

“Yeah, I’d say finding a body with the eyes and tongue removed is pretty weird,” Sawyer said.

“No, not that! I mean, yes that, but I mean specifically compared to the other murders! Because it’s not hard to figure out that the tongue and eyes were removed post-mortem, but the body was definitely killed here because you don’t lose that much blood without cacking real fast, and I bet the lividity shows that—”

Sawyer turned more fully to the young crime scene investigator. “You’re that sure they’re connected?”

“Of course! It’s the only thing that makes sense when you take in the statistical occurrence of murders in this city, not to mention the deliberate nature of the presentation and the…oh. I…uh. Huh.” Huerta made a face. “I guess it does sound kind of incriminating of me when I say it like that, doesn’t it?”

“Just a little.” Not that Sawyer thought Huerta was involved in these murders or any murder outside his job, but the guy was utterly oblivious to social norms. “Why don’t you go stand over with Officer Doran for a while? I think he could use a distraction.” He’d been the first on the scene again, and while this death wasn’t nearly as gory as the first one the young officer had had to deal with, he had still been white-faced and shaky when Sawyer got there. He’d sent the young man to tape things off and hold back anyone who might be out for a late-night stroll behind a grocery store—eh, stranger things had happened.

“Okay!” Huerta bounced off toward the unsuspecting Officer Doran, and Sawyer was finally able to get some one-on-one time with Bashir again.

Or rather, Dr. Ramin. Which was fine, he liked both aspects of the guy.

“Do you have an idea about the cause of death?” he asked as he stopped about five feet away. There was no sense in risking more contamination of the scene.

“The stab wound through the chest seems like a good candidate, although I really can’t rule anything out.” Bashir gestured at the slash through the man’s flannel shirt and the formerly white T-shirt below it. “Although I’ve got to say, if that is the cause of death, it’s either the luckiest strike ever or this man was drugged before he was killed.”

Sawyer nodded. People had a lot of misconceptions about being attacked with knives, and one of them was the idea that all it took was a single strike and you’d be done for. Sawyer had had to tackle a man who’d been stabbed over twenty times, five minutes into a brutal fight, because the guy just wouldn’t go down. He’d seen another man’s neck slashed open—the kind of slash that sprayed arterial blood all over the place—and yet the guy had stayed on his feet for a full minute after the fact, ranting and swinging a crowbar around until he finally passed out. Both men had survived, too.

“Yeah, that would be a hell of a lucky strike.”

“If he was drugged,” Bashir went on, “then there might be some sort of connection to the type of drug used and removing the eyes and tongue, possibly as a means of lessening our chances of identifying the drug itself, but…that’s really not how toxicology works.” He was staring at the victim’s pants now.

Sawyer followed his gaze. Huh. The fly on the jeans was unzipped.

Bashir narrowed his eyes. “Not much I can conclude here. Not until I’ve autopsied him.”

Sawyer nodded. “Your people should be here soon, right?”

“Right.” He smiled suddenly. “This might be the first time Tami was ever glad to hear me on a night call.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. She was a little…less than enthusiastic about the prospect of you and I going on a date.”

Overprotective staff. Got it.

Sawyer already knew she didn’t like him or his interest in Bashir; she hadn’t gone out of her way to hide the fact. It figured that she’d be protective of her boss. “Think of how disappointed she’s going to be when she sees that I’m the detective on the scene.”

Bashir’s smile vanished. No, wait, come back. “Where’s your partner?”

“Detective McKay has something personal to deal with right now. I’ve got a temporary partner until things settle down, but I told her not to come out tonight.” Which Nan hadn’t liked, but tough cookies.

“Ah.” Bashir paused. “Is Mrs. McKay all right?”

Of course Bashir knew about Molly. This was a decent-sized city, but not so big that there wasn’t a lot of cross-talk between city employees. Sawyer knew for a fact that Selina at dispatch was the biggest gossip on the force, and she had friends everywhere. Besides, Molly’s illness was…not exactly fresh news. “As much as she ever is these days.” He didn’t say a word about Kurt’s drinking or the family flying in for what could be the end. There was a line between accepted gossip and private matters, and he wasn’t about to breach it. “Is there an ID for the victim?”

“He had his wallet on him, actually, as well as a medical alert bracelet.” Bashir stared down at the body, one gloved hand on the dead man’s wrist, almost like he were feeling for the nonexistent pulse. “His name is Gerard Johnson, and he’s allergic to shellfish.”

Gerard Johnson. Sawyer nodded and pulled out his phone, which buzzed at him before he could call up Nan. New notification from…his sister?

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