Crystal Meth Cowboys by John Knoerle Read Free Book Online Page B

kitchen window next door, ricocheted off a neighbor's forehead and zzzz'ed around and around a crystal bowl spinning foil-wrapped candies all over the linoleum. But all he said was, "Every round out can end up killing someone you have no interest in killing."
    "But you
were
interested in killing Mr. Bjornstedt."
    "No sir," replied Bell, his voice rising. "I was
interested
in getting him to drop the weapon." Bell paused. "Unfortunately it took six bullets to convince him."
    The Mayor sharpened his stare. The Chief dropped his head and shook it. CJ winced. But Bell grinned like a just-popped Jack in the Box, his head bobbing at Boss Hogg.
    "Call the Medical Examiner," said the Mayor to the back of the room.
    Bell and Lyedecker turned to see Deputy Coroner Bernard Fischer escorted into the office by the Mayor's secretary. A diminutive man wearing wire rim glasses, Fischer was recognized as the top ME in Santa Barbara county after only nine years on the job. A top pre-med student at Stanford, he had turned down medical scholarships in order to care for his aged parents in Wislow. The Sheriff had snatched him up in a heartbeat.
    Bell chewed on his mustache. Boss Hogg wouldn't have brought the ol' Kingfisher up from SB to deliver any good news. Bell watched Bernie refuse the Mayor's offer of a high-backed chair and smiled to himself. The little man didn't want his legs to dangle.
    Fischer stood to the right of Bell, facing across the desk so that everyone had to turn to face him. Bell made eye contact and Bernie nodded curtly. Bell hoped he hadn't told one too many Jewish jokes at the last SO picnic.
    "First of all," said the Mayor. "I would like to thank Deputy Coroner Fischer for schlepping all the way up here on his day off." The Mayor gave Bernie his best shit-eating grin. "And helping us laymen make sense of this complex document."
    The Mayor held up a copy of the autopsy report. Deputy Coroner Fischer remained impassive inside his starched and steam pressed green and khaki uniform. His parents owned a dry cleaners and Bernie never donned a uniform that wasn't wrapped in polyethylene.
    "I realize this is a preliminary autopsy report pending certain lab results, but, after all…" The Mayor gestured to all the happy participants happily. "This isn't a legally binding inquiry, is it?"
    Bell told himself he would have to have a little chat with his old drinking buddy Lieutenant, now Sheriff, JackBroome about leaking a copy of a preliminary autopsy to Boss Hogg without extending the same courtesy to himself.
    "Okay," said the Mayor and bent his nostrils to a page of the autopsy marked with a red plastic clip. "I'm particularly interested in your take on the shoulder injury sustained by the deceased," said the Mayor. "The result…" The Mayor scrambled through the mass of paperwork on his desk. "According to Officer Bell's report…" The Mayor paged through the Narrative Supplement hurriedly. "Of…yes, Officer Bell's second shot." Boss Hogg grazed Bell with a look before he turned to the Deputy Coroner.
    "My 'take'," said Fischer, "Is that the bullet severed Mr. Bjornstedt's brachial plexus nerve."
    "Right," said Boss Hogg. "Quite right. So, once Officer Bell shot the man in this way, would it have been possible for him to point and fire a weapon with that shoulder…with the arm
attached
to that shoulder after sustaining that injury?"
    Boss Hogg looked confidently at the Deputy Coroner. Bell knew Hizzoner already knew the answer, had asked Bernie the question before hauling him up here. "To the best of my knowledge, no."
    Mayor Krumrie rocked back in his black leather chair. "Well," he said, "That's good enough for me."
    "Mr. Mayor," said Bell. "The manual decocking device was off." When this brought no look of recognition, Bell said, "My partner's nine millimeter semi-automatic, the one with the suspect's prints all over it, the one he waved at me, the manual decocking device, the safety, was
off
."
    The Mayor's