Page 48 of Manner of Death
Chapter 13
Today was going from bad to worse, and it wasn’t even because of Bashir’s increasing saltiness over getting cock-blocked by the universe. That wasn’t helping matters, especially when he had to act like a professional goddamned adult around the object of his frustration, but it was more peripheral bullshit than centerstage.
No, there were three men who were going to drive Bashir into a bottle before this day was over, and none of them were Sawyer.
One was Colby Simpson, the thirty-something Caucasian male currently crumpled in a heap at the base of a stairwell inside one of the financial buildings downtown. He was positioned with his upper torso on the landing and his lower body on the bottom steps. His neck was clearly broken, and his left arm was unnaturally bent, so the cause of death seemed obvious at first glance. Either on his own suicidal volition, after a shove from a killer, or by quite literally falling victim to physics, Simpson had made an accelerated descent down the stairs at just the wrong angle and snapped his neck.
At first glance.
The destroyed security cameras on both this landing and the one above it were too convenient to be coincidental. That was for the cops to address, though. For the very tired and confused medical examiner crouching beside the body, the biggest clue that things weren’t what they seemed was the cherry red of the decedent’s skin, which suggested Mr. Simpson had succumbed to carbon monoxide poisoning. Or, judging by the way every other autopsy had gone recently, his cause of death would be something so rare and statistically improbable that Bashir would have to run a few tests twice just to be sure.
Tami looked up from photographing the man’s face. “Do you think he was getting carbon monoxide poisoning, and then went stumbling down the stairs?”
Bashir shrugged. Anything was possible, and it was up to the cops to piece together the story told by the scientific evidence. Bashir and Tami just had to collect and report that evidence. They’d speculate and brainstorm with cops, sure, and Bashir could never resist trying to piece it all together himself, but at the end of the day, it was—thank God—the cops’ job to actually complete the puzzle.
He didn’t envy the cops, because seriously, what in the ever-loving fuck was happening in this town? A serial killer with a Pinterest inspiration board that looked like something out of the weirdest episodes of Forensic Files?
Which…
Bashir’s neck prickled. Maybe Sawyer needed to revisit Felix the True Crime Podcaster. Not necessarily as a suspect—though Bashir wasn’t ruling out anyone or anything at this point—but perhaps as an unwitting source of inspiration for the killer. Maybe he’d had some weird fan mail? Weird comments in the chat? Every thread was a thread worth tugging, so he made a mental note to bring it up to Sawyer.
Sawyer, who was down the next flight of stairs, where he was dealing with the second of the three men who were testing Bashir’s sanity today.
“Kurt. Listen to me.” He had his hands on his partner’s shoulders, probably both to steady him and keep his attention. “You have got to go home. You can’t be—”
“Back the fuck off, Sawyer,” Detective McKay snapped back, and he made an animated but ineffective attempt to shove his partner away. “I don’t need you telling me what to do.”
Sawyer dropped his arms to his sides, and the pained expression tugged at Bashir’s heart. McKay was clearly in crisis mode—drunk, belligerent, trying to barge onto a crime scene where he absolutely didn’t belong. Sawyer was doing his level best to talk him down and gently escort him out of the crowded stairwell, but McKay was having none of it.
McKay again tried to push past Sawyer, and in doing so, gave him a shove that had him teetering precariously on the top step. In that split second of imbalance, Bashir’s heart went into this throat as his mind filled with visions of Sawyer lying below the stairs like Colby Simpson.
Fortunately, Sawyer only went down one step before he caught himself on the railing, wincing as if that had aggravated his sore ribs.
McKay didn’t even seem to notice he’d damn near killed his partner, and he turned his belligerent attention on Officer Bailey. Bailey had been posted midway down the stairs below Bashir to minimize traffic and potential contamination of the crime scene. She positioned herself in the middle of the step and stood her ground.
“Only the investigators on this case, the CSIs, and the medical examiner’s personnel are allowed, detective. You’ll have to—”
“The fuck I will,” he snarled, straightening to his full height. He’d have towered over her had she not been two steps above him. As it was, they were nearly eye-level. “I will be on the phone with your superior if you don’t let me through, Officer.”
She didn’t budge. “I’m sorry, detective. Dr. Ramin was very clear about—”
“You don’t answer to Dr. Ramin and neither do I,” he snapped, waving the hand that was in a cast. “Now move. Aside.”
Bashir rolled his eyes, schooled his expression, and stood on the top step. “Detective McKay, you’re not assigned to this case, so you have no reason to be on my crime scene. I need—”
“Your crime scene?” the detective slurred up at him. He laughed, letting his inebriation really show. “I think you’re getting a little above yourself, aren’t you, doc? This is—”
“Kurt.” Sawyer appeared beside McKay and put a hand on his arm. “Let me take you home. We’ve got this scene. You need to be with Molly.”
At the mention of his wife’s name, all of McKay’s anger and bravado died away. He seemed to whither, losing an inch or two in height as he leaned hard on the railing.
“Come on.” Sawyer gave his elbow a gentle tug. “Let’s go.”
McKay didn’t look at anyone as he followed Sawyer down the stairs. At the bottom, just before they turned the corner to start descending the set McKay had nearly sent Sawyer tumbling down, Sawyer glanced back at Bashir. They locked eyes for a second, and Sawyer’s expression was full of apology and embarrassment. As if this were somehow his fault.
Bashir tried for a look of empathy and understanding. He wasn’t sure if he succeeded or failed, only that Sawyer responded with a slight nod before he continued out of sight with his partner.
“What the hell is up with him?” Tami asked.