Carnosaur Crimes by Christine Gentry Read Free Book Online Page A

fossil theft ring. I’ve got feelers out through our office and the state police to see if it’s true. Drop the head off, talk to this expert, and see what she can tell you She’ll need time to examine the skull and work up a profile, but something’s better than nothing right now.”
    â€œWhen do I leave?”
    â€œTomorrow morning. The itinerary will be on your desk late this afternoon. I’ll talk to Captain McKenzie. You’ll report your findings to me. I want a low profile, gentlemen.”
    Flynn got up. “I’ll do my best, but I’ve got five Big Toe town councilmen nipping at my heels. I’ll bear down if it comes to it, FBI or not.” He looked at Dorbandt. “Have a good trip.” In a second, the Irishman was out the door.
    â€œCan I have a copy of the autopsy report?” Dorbandt asked.
    â€œTake this.” Combs passed it over.
    Dorbandt flipped quickly through the brief provisional report. One specific paragraph caught his eye. It listed the perp’s stomach contents, and his pulse quickened. A clue to the Indian’s activities during the last few hours of his life had just leaped out at him. The trilling of his cell phone broke his concentration.
    â€œGo ahead and get that if you don’t have any other questions.”
    â€œNothing right now, sir.” Dorbandt rose, file in one hand while pulling the phone from inside his jacket pocket with the other. He moved quickly through the office door and into the hubbub of a harried, central administrative area. “Lieutenant Dorbandt.”
    â€œReid. It’s Ansel. Can you talk?”
    He made sure his voice didn’t betray his surprise. “For a minute. What is it?”
    â€œIt’s about the museum investigation.”
    â€œAccording to the FBI, I’m officially off the case. I told you to stay out of it.”
    â€œI’m involved whether you like it or not. This morning two BLM officers talked to me.”
    â€œOnly because you brought attention to yourself by deliberately being at a crime scene, Ansel. You knew better. I warned you that you’d be messing with a federal posse.”
    â€œYou sound like my father. I didn’t call for a lecture. I need your help.”
    Dorbandt sighed. “All right. What did the cops say?”
    â€œSo you’re interested. If you want to know, you’ve got to meet me. How about lunch?”
    Despite his irritation, Dorbandt’s curiosity was piqued - an Achilles Heel that Ansel had speared with a woman warrior’s eye for blood. Since June the year before, they’d talked occasionally. Nothing but friendly chatter. The last few months had been hectic in homicide, and she’d been busy doing book drawings. Maybe he could get some bonus legwork done on this case before leaving for Billings.
    â€œHow about dinner instead?”
    â€œWhere?”
    â€œHumpy’s Grill in Swoln. I’ll give you directions. Be there by eight.”
    â€œSwoln? It’s on the other side of the county.”
    â€œYeah, but I’ve got a craving for a buffalo tongue sandwich,” Dorbandt replied, slapping the autopsy file against his thigh.

Chapter 6
    â€œLife is both giving and receiving.”
    Mohawk
    Lacrosse County covered approximately seventeen-hundred square miles with a total population of three-thousand. That boiled down to one-point-eight people for every square mile, Ansel considered as she drove into Swoln, a rooster tail of gumbo dust arching behind the truck’s exhaust. Of the three towns - Mission City, Big Toe, and Swoln - why did Dorbandt have to pick this godforsaken place to have dinner?
    Swoln, inhabited by about two-hundred people, was an isolated livestock range for sheep. The town’s name referred to an historical incident. In 1905 the first commercial flock, brought in and accidentally placed in a pasture with clover, ate so much of the tasty plant that every sheep