Still Life: The Randi Lassiter Series, Book 1 Read Free Page A

combo to hit his bloodstream. He surveyed the bustling scene behind him in his side-view mirror.
    EMS, local cops and sheriff deputies all on hand to offer assistance to the city jurisdiction dotted the area with a rainbow of uniform colors. Detectives employed by Mt. Ouisco, all three of them, were no doubt inside the official perimeter. Overkill in the number of personnel it took to cover a homicide and a potential contamination issue if they were wandering the crime scene. Jon knew it was bad when he saw the chief of police among the throng. There was an aura of frenzy as everyone vied to be part of the nightmare—everyone, that is, but him.
    He noted a remarkable absence of reporters. If this were Milwaukee, they’d have arrived alongside the first responders. Soon there would be an onslaught of news people, each sparring for a morsel like vultures over carrion.
    Greg Stanton stood off to one side of the crowd nervously shifting foot to foot. Young and lanky with straight russet hair and flat, pale face, the rookie officer was just finishing his probationary period. He fidgeted with his duty belt and a government-issued Beretta and looked ill.
    A smile edged onto Jon’s face. When he worked homicide in Milwaukee, he’d dealt with more than his fair share of bloody murders. The worst were the gang killings where innocent children ended up as turf-war collateral damage. That kind of inhumane crap that was impossible to forget. This kid had it easy and didn’t even know it.
    The rookie looked his way; recognition crossed his face, and he waved spastically, desperate for help.
    “Shit.” Jon did not wave back. He swallowed the dregs in the cup and tossed it onto the passenger side where it bounced off of several others on the floor. He got out and took his sweet time crossing the parking lot.
    Unable to wait for the mountain to come to Muhammad, Stanton rushed up to meet Jon. “Hey, Detective. How are you doing? It’s a good thing we got you here to handle this…with your experience and all.” He trailed behind Jon like a puppy tripping over his own feet.
    Jon shot him an aggravated look that went unnoticed.
    “Guess you got lucky, huh?” the rookie added.
    Jon pulled up short and turned to face the young officer. “Yeah. Lucky. You might want to redo your button job there, kid.” He pointed at the rookie’s shirt, which was a mess even by three a.m. standards. The kid blanched and turned his back to the crowd to fix it. Jon fought to keep from smiling.
    “At my first murder I puked my guts out in the bushes not far from the corpse. The squad never let me live it down.” He patted the kid on the shoulder. “You puke yet?” Stanton shook his head. “Then you’re ahead of the curve.” Stanton blushed so deeply his freckles almost disappeared.
    A rural town with no major crime, Mt. Ouisco didn’t need—nor could they afford—a CSI team, so it fell to regular staff to conduct investigations. The local detectives typically dealt with things like B&E, vandalism, drug violations and theft. Jon knew full well their homicide skills would be academic at best. It was pretty much a given that he would be handed the investigation.
    Chief Burgess Thomlin walked toward him. Thomlin was fifty-five and lean with salt and pepper hair that fringed a deep receding hairline. Another year or two and he’d be a card-carrying member of the comb-over club. He had been with the department as a rookie and police chief for the last twenty years. That tenure spoke volumes, but Jon hadn’t known him long enough to make a fair assessment of the man.
    “Hey Chief, which one of your people is lead on the case?” Jon figured it was worth a shot.
    The Chief’s mouth turned up in a half grin. “Nice try. You’re lead and don’t bother acting surprised.”
    “How about you assign someone else and I’ll assist. I can make them look good.”
    “It would be negligent to assign anyone else, and you know it.”
    Jon nodded. So much