Page 28 of Manner of Death
Shit.
Well, she was going to have to wait. He thumbed through to Nan’s contact and dialed.
She picked up after the first ring. “Do you need me on scene?”
It seemed like someone was suffering from a bit of desk fatigue. “No, it’s fine,” Sawyer assured her, and he could practically hear her deflate. “We have an ID, though, if you want to start looking into the victim.”
“Shoot.”
“Stabbed, actually.”
Nan sighed. “You’re not funny.”
Sawyer was pretty sure he was a little bit funny, but he let it go and read off the victim’s information to her. “It’s definitely a murder, so be careful reaching out to family,” he finished, remembering the terrible scene last time with Christopher White’s parents. “We should set up interviews as soon as possible in the morning.”
“Got it. Do you think we’ll have more information from the M.E.’s office by then?”
Sawyer glanced over at Bashir, who was in the process of loading the victim onto a stretcher with his assistant. “Maybe. Depends on what shows up during the autopsy. Bashir is taking him now, so—”
“I’m sorry, who is taking him now?”
Sawyer rolled his eyes. “It’s not like I was going to call him ‘Dr. Ramin’ on our date, Nan.”
“Oh, shit.” Her tone veered from teasing to apologetic. “Of course this had to happen right in the middle of your date. Damn it, Sawyer, you should have let me take it.”
“It’s not like I could have continued the date anyway, since Bashir was called in at the same time,” he pointed out.
“Still…”
Sawyer gave in. “I promise to help you get out of the office soon, all right? Your wife is going to kill me if she finds out, though.”
Nan made a zzzzip-ing sound. “My lips are sealed,” she promised, then ended the call.
Sawyer checked in with the scene commander and updated his captain before he turned back to the victim and saw Bashir taking off his gloves. The body was loaded into the van, which was just starting to pull out. He’d apparently missed Tami. What a shame.
Sawyer picked his way over to Bashir. “Anything else you can share before an official autopsy?”
Bashir frowned at the spot where the body had been. “It’s just a hunch at this point, but I think the evidence definitely points to the victim being drugged. There’s nothing I can see that would indicate he fought back.”
“That’s similar to the first two murders, then.”
“It is, but…” He shook his head. “There’s something that seems different. The first murder was staged so elaborately, like there was a genuine effort to hide the fact that the death wasn’t accidental. And the second…again, there was a lot of work put into making the death unusual, even though a toxin was definitely involved. This time, it’s almost as though…I don’t know, as though the killer was rushed. Cutting out the eyes and tongue—those are brutal, but I’m positive they were post-mortem wounds. Apart from the stab wound to the chest, that’s all I’ve been able to confirm so far. So what was the point?”
That was a good question. The victim—Gerard—was an average-looking man in his mid-thirties, with tan skin and brown hair. He wore a polo shirt, khakis, a pair of black tennis shoes that could double as more formal loafers at first glance…why target him?
Why target any of these people? Maybe the investigation would turn up something interesting in the victim’s background this time.
“I don’t know,” Sawyer said, “but I’ll keep you updated.”
“Thanks.” Bashir’s frown turned into a rueful smile. “I wish we’d gotten to finish our date.”
“You’ll just have to let me take you on another one.” There wouldn’t be a lot of time—not with three bizarre unsolved murders in as many days—but he’d make it work, damn it.
Bashir’s smile became more genuine. “Maybe breakfast next time? I know a great place for it.”
“That sounds perfect.” They stared at each other, smiling obliviously, until Sawyer said, “It would be really bad form for me to kiss you at a murder scene, right?”
“Right…yeah, I better—I need to get back to the—”