Page 6 of Manner of Death
“Among other things.” As much as Sawyer would love to sit down with Dr. Ramin and share all the telltales that had alerted them both to the fact that this was a murder—preferably over dinner—he also noted the camera in the other man’s hand and the somewhat impatient expression. This was likely his subtle way of telling Sawyer to get the hell out of the house. “I should let you work.”
“I would appreciate it.” He sounded appreciative, too, and slightly surprised. Sawyer knew there was no love lost between the doctor and Kurt, but he was determined not to get lumped in with his partner.
“Not a problem.” Sawyer stepped out of the kitchen. “Kurt’s going to take off. Would it be possible for me to get a ride home from you? I believe we live fairly close to each other.” Dice thrown…
“I’m afraid not,” Dr. Ramin said briskly. “I’ll be leaving with the body once it’s ready to be moved. I’m sure you’ll need to stay after that.”
Damn. Came up snake eyes.
Sawyer didn’t let his disappointment show. “Of course. Maybe next time.”
“Next time we meet at a crime scene?” You weirdo, the undercurrent said, but there was a little hint of humor there as well. Sawyer would take it.
“Better than an interrupted dinner,” Sawyer replied.
Dr. Ramin blinked.
“How did you…”
“You’re wearing cologne. Something really nice.” Sawyer shook his head. “Nobody wears a cologne like that if they aren’t trying to impress someone.”
“Good nose, detective.”
Not good enough to impress, apparently. Or maybe he just didn’t like being interpreted. Or maybe Sawyer was wasting his time right now and needed to finish getting the hell out of the way so the M.E. could get on with it.
“Call me if you need anything,” he said, then left the house.
Exit: pursued by a bear.
Dr. Ramin left with the body a while later. He didn’t spare Sawyer so much as a glance as he did so, clearly tired after what had probably been a long day followed by an interrupted night out. Carlos was inside the house with another CSI, which left Sawyer to handle the trail of curious neighbors, curious cops, and other assorted looky-loos who seemed to come out of the woodwork once the clock tipped past midnight.
You should all be in bed.
So should Officer Doran; his adrenaline had turned into fatigue once the good doctor had left, but he was still on duty, so Sawyer asked him to help with looking up information on the man who’d been killed.
“Gilroy Upworth,” Officer Doran read from his computer. “No parking tickets, no speeding tickets, no DUIs, no—oh, there was one charge of animal cruelty for dyeing his chickens blue back in the early oughts, but other than that I’m not finding anything.”
“Interesting. Anything on his family?”
“No, uh…unmarried—or divorced, I guess, around the same time as the chicken thing.” He glanced at Sawyer. “Do you think they divorced because they argued over dyeing their chickens?”
“People have gotten divorced for stranger reasons,” Sawyer said. “No kids?”
“No, no kids, and nothing on his ex after 2010…the only other Upworth in town is Edith Upworth, eighty-seven. She lives at Pine Lodge Retirement Community.”
“She probably hasn’t lived there for long,” Sawyer said. “I’d be willing to bet that this house was hers before her family member moved in.”
“Oh.” Officer Doran closed his eyes for a second. “Oh, of course. The victim is probably her son.”
“Or a nephew,” Sawyer agreed. “The Lodge is a memory care facility, right?”
Officer Doran nodded.
“Good. Hopefully Mrs. Upworth has advanced dementia.”
“Wha—why would you hope for that?”
Come on now, Officer. Consider the emotional relevance of this plot point.