Astride a Pink Horse Read Free Page A

coroner.
    “Where?”
    The coroner hesitated before responding, “On his penis. You can have a look if you’d like.” He teased back the bottom edge of the heavy-gauge black plastic covering the dead man.
    Bernadette took her first good look at the body. The man’s skin, on the grayish side of black, looked corrugated and picked at. It sagged, mostly along the arms and neck, and skin ulcers covered the man’s chest. His penis, missing most of its circumcised head,was peppered with dried-up erosions that looked like insect bites. Even so, the letters “ICBM,” stenciled in red, white, blue, and red again, could be made out running along the top of the shaft.
    Watching the major’s eyes narrow thoughtfully, the coroner said, “There’s another tattoo on the underside.” He carefully lifted the blackened nub of a sex organ with a gloved index finger. “Can you see it?”
    “Yes,” said Bernadette, recognizing the insignia of Warren Air Force Base’s 90th Missile Group. “Strange, and a little ritualistic.”
    “Looks like somebody used a dull knife or maybe even a pair of scissors to do the job. Pretty ragged edges,” said the sheriff, shaking his head. “That insignia seals the deal though, don’t you think, Major? He’s gotta be one of your boys outta Warren.”
    “We’ll have to see,” said Bernadette, glancing around the Tango-11 compound and looking for where the killer might have broken through the fence to gain enough access to drag a body inside.
    Realizing what she was looking for, the sheriff nodded to the east. “Whoever killed him cut a hole big enough to drive a truck through in your eastern boundary fence over there. Didn’t see much evidence of drag marks over to here, but like Dr. Reed said, the body’s been here for a while. No question, though, he probably wasn’t killed here.”
    “Missile-site security is sort of a top priority for us,” said Bernadette, glancing down at the body once again. “So we’ll be looking real hard at how someone did what they did here.”
    “I know the division of labor, Major. Been there and done this kinda thing before. The murder’s mine. The security breach is yours. So let’s get back to what’s mine for a second. We foundthe head of the dead man’s penis wadded up in a piece of paper that had been jammed into his mouth. I’m guessin’ the killer was lookin’ to not only make a point but shut him up. Wanna show her, Sam?”
    Dr. Reed leaned over, picked up a baggie from a spot of bare earth near the victim’s arm, opened the bag, took out the dried-up penis head and a crinkled piece of paper, and held them up for Bernadette to look at. “I think the killer probably used the paper to stop the bleeding and sop up some of the blood,” said Reed.
    “Reasonable,” Bernadette said, staring at the paper. “Looks like it’s got some lines drawn on it.”
    “My take, too,” said Bosack. “I’ll have it analyzed, and I’ll let you know what we find out.”
    The sound of a vehicle pulling off the highway and coming to a stop on the shoulder cut the conversation short. Looking back toward the highway, the sheriff announced, “Dually.” A satellite-receiver-style antenna poked from the bed of a white truck with dual rear tires. The truck’s nose was pointed toward them.
    “Colorado plates,” said Deputy Sykes. “Recognize the rig, Sheriff?”
    “Nope.”
    “Who’d be coming out here right now besides law enforcement?” asked Bernadette.
    Smiling knowingly and eyeing Bernadette’s Jeep, the sheriff asked, “Have you got a police scanner in that vehicle of yours, Major?”
    “No.”
    “Well, you should.”
    “And the reason for that would be?”
    “So you can keep up with the press,” the sheriff said with awink. “I’m willin’ to bet six months’ pay that dually we’re starin’ at belongs to a journalist.”
    Bernadette watched in silence as the driver slipped out of the pickup.
    “Yep,” said the sheriff. “The