Page 27 of So Normal

“Five more minutes and they would have,” Faith said. “Any chance you can get more officers here?”

“They’re on their way,” Rameses said. “Of course, it would be easier if they would just close the terminal for a few hours so we can do our jobs, but God forbid we do anything to interrupt anyone’s workday.”

“How long before CSI gets here?” Faith asked.

“Fifteen minutes,” Rameses said, “plus whatever time it takes for them to get past the crowd.”

“We can’t wait that long,” Faith said. “People are going to figure out I’m just bluffing with Turk and then we’re back to square one.”

“Does it have to be a bluff?” Rameses asked. “I can look the other way if you feel inclined to send him after some of the lookie-loos.”

Faith didn’t bother to respond to that. “I’m going to take a look at the victim. You have gloves I can borrow?”

Rameses shook his head. “Only CSI and the coroner carry gloves.”

“You don’t have gloves in case you come across suspects with weapons or paraphernalia?”

“No,” Rameses said. “Do you?”

“I have gloves,” Michael said, pulling a pair of latex gloves from a pocket and sliding them on.

“Why are you carrying gloves?” Faith asked.

“In case we have to examine a body,” Michael said. “Don’t look surprised that I came prepared.”

He knelt next to the body and said, “Okay, we have a male, early forties, Caucasian, looks to be about six-foot-two, 190 pounds, fairly good shape, although I’ll know more when the coroner takes a look at him.”

He carefully lifted the victim’s head and checked for marks. From there, he proceeded to examine the rest of the body. It was covered by a thick, leather jacket above but nothing but shorts and high socks on his legs.

“I’m guessing the killer picked this outfit out as well,” Michael said. “Not quite so fashionable an arrangement this time. More importantly, no sign of wounds or marks, although once more, we’ll have to let the coroner take a look to be sure.”

He rifled through the victim’s pockets and said, “Well, pockets are empty. No ID. Did Chester have his wallet on him when he was found?”

“Sure did,” Rameses said.

“So, either this is a different killer or he’s learning,” Michael said. “Although what he gains from lifting the man’s wallet other than a couple hundred in cash is beyond me.”

“A couple hundred in cash will carry you pretty far if you need it to,” Rameses offered.

“And if this turns out to be unrelated to our first crime, I’ll believe this was a mugging gone wrong. Until then, I’m going to go with the thought that the killer is trying to slow us down.”

“How exactly will this slow us down?” Wales asked.

“Well,” Michael said, standing, “when people are murdered, it’s usually for a reason, and knowing who the victim is usually leads us to a reason.”

“Oh,” Wales said, reddening. “Right. Obviously.”

“Don’t beat yourself up,” Rameses said sourly. “There’s a reason he saidusually.”

“There’s always a reason,” Faith said. “It just doesn’t always make sense. We can save the philosophy for another time though. We need to get this body out of here ASAP.”

The crowd, realizing finally that Faith wasn’t going to order Turk to attack a bunch of civilians, had begun to press closer to the scene again. The security team and police officers once more formed a barrier, but the crowd was far more zealous now than before, perhaps sensing that soon their body would be taken away from them, and they would miss their chance at immortalizing the moment they came across a real-life murder scene.

Lights flashed as cell phones captured the scene. Faith was fairly sure that her disgusted face and Michael’s contemptuous one would end up on a lot of social media profiles before the day was out.

A few dozen yards away, just behind the crowd, a janitor watched the scene with the mildly irritated expression of a man who realized that his workday had just gotten a lot harder.

“Same, brother,” Faith muttered under her breath.

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