Picture Them Dead by Brynn Bonner Read Free Book Online

theory.
    â€œOff a skyscaper, maybe,” River said. “But there’s not one of those handy.”
    â€œDid you hear anything last night?” Esme asked. “Surely she would’ve screamed.”
    â€œThere was lots of activity out here last night with the vigil and all. I came out once about sunset to make sure nobody was bothering my buddy there”—he nodded toward the grave—“but they all seemed content to stay on the other side of the fence, so I went back in the house and let them have at it.”
    â€œWho made that?” I asked, pointing toward the split-rail fence that separated River’s property from Claire’s. The handmade sign leaning against the fence read: IF YOU WISH TO LEAVE A TRIBUTE FOR THE FORGOTTEN MAN, PLEASE LEAVE IT HERE. DON ’ T GO ANYWHERE NEAR THE GRAVE. THAT ’ S THE LAW OF THE LAND AND OF COMMON DECENCY.
    â€œI put that up,” River said. “And I think it had some effect. Most of the stuff they left is over there, though a few folks thought they just had to have a look-see into the grave.”
    There were real and plastic flowers, a menagerie of stuffed animals, a host of handmade signs, and numerous wreaths tacked to the fence, along with enough candles to light up a small airstrip. Not to mention candy wrappers, burnt-paper candle guards, and the stubs of the tiny candles that had no doubt been passed out at last night’s vigil.
    â€œHere come the cops,” River said. “Jenny’s gonna be mighty upset by this.”
    Jennifer was behind the wheel of the unmarked car assigned to her and next to her, I saw the outline of a bulky figure in the passenger seat. At first I thought it was Denny. I experienced a moment of relief before realizing it was Lloyd Ramsey, Morningside’s chief of police. Ramsey’s a nice enough man, but I wasn’t sure he was the brightest bulb on the Christmas tree. Denny never trash-talked the man, but “He’s a good administrator” was about the best accolade he could manage.
    They both got out of the car, moving with some urgency, Jennifer toward her father and Ramsey toward the body.
    â€œDad, you okay?” Jennifer asked, glancing sideways at her boss as she touched her father’s arm.
    â€œI’m fine, Jen,” he said, his voice low. “Just go do your job.”
    Jennifer double-timed to catch up with Ramsey. He’d stopped near the body but he hadn’t crouched down for a closer look. I couldn’t say I blamed him, but I had to wonder if maybe he was feeling a bit inadequate. It was clear he hadn’t been out in the field for a while.
    â€œThis is a homicide,” he said.
    Thank you, Captain Obvious, I thought, literally biting my tongue to make sure I didn’t blurt it out loud.
    â€œCall the medical examiner and tell him to get out here,” Ramsey said, tossing the words to Jennifer over his shoulder.
    I saw the muscles in her jaw clench, but she only muttered a “Yes, sir” as she pulled her phone from her pocket. She made the call, then traded the phone for a small notebook and pen. “I’m going to interview these three so we can clear the scene,” she said, turning ­toward us before Ramsey had a chance to reply.
    â€œWho found her?” she asked, pen poised over the page.
    â€œWe all sort of found her at once,” River said, and explained how we’d converged on the scene.
    â€œDid any of you touch anything?” she asked, looking first at me and then at Esme.
    River raised a hand. “I did,” he said. “I thought she was one of the tribute people and that she’d come out here to leave something, then dozed off. She was sort of on her side and it looked like she was sleeping. When she rolled we saw the blood and her head all like that.”
    â€œDid you touch anything else?” she asked, scribbling fast. We all shook our heads and she went on to ask about the