by the amount of flashing lights, it had to be something big.
Like a body.
Two minutes passed. Muse was just about to take out her gun and force him to open the gate when a man in uniform sauntered toward her vehicle. He wore a big-brimmed hat and had a sheriffs badge. His name tag read Lowell.
"Can I help you, miss?"
"Miss? Did he tell you who I am?"
"Uh, no, sorry, he just said-"
"I'm Loren Muse, the chief investigator for Essex County." Muse pointed toward the guardhouse. "Small Balls in there has my ID." "Hey, what did you call me?" Sheriff Lowell sighed and wiped his nose with a handkerchief. His nose was bulbous and rather huge. So were all his features-long and droopy, as if someone had drawn a caricature of him and then let it melt in the sun. He waved the hand holding the tissue at Rent-A-Cop.
"Relax, Sandy." "Sandy," Muse repeated. She looked toward the guardhouse. "Isn't that a girls name?" Sheriff Lowell looked down the huge nose at her. Probably disapprovingly. She couldn't blame him.
"Sandy, give me the lady's ID."
Panties, then miss, now lady. Muse was trying very hard not to get angry. Here she was, less than two hours from Newark and New York City, and she might as well have been in friggin' Mayberry.
Sandy handed Lowell the ID. Lowell wiped his nose hard-his skin was so saggy that Muse half-feared some would come off. He examined the ID, sighed and said, "You should have told me who she was, Sandy."
"But you said no one gets in without your approval."
"And if you told me on the phone who she was, I would have given it." "But-" "Look, fellas," Muse interrupted, "do mea favor. Discuss your back woods ways at the next lodge meeting, okay? I need to get in there."
"Park to the right," Lowell said, unruffled. "We have to hike up to the site. I'll take you."
Lowell nodded toward Sandy. Sandy hit a button and the gate rose. Muse pinkie-scratched her cheek again as she drove through. Sandy fumed impotently, which Muse found apropos.
She parked. Lowell met her. He carried two flashlights and handed her one. Muses patience was running on the thin side. She snatched it and said, "Okay, already, which way?"
"You got a real nice way with people," he said.
"Thanks, Sheriff."
"To the right. Come on."
Muse lived in a crapola garden apartment of too-standard-to-be-standard brick so she wasn't one to talk, but to her amateur eye, this gated community looked exactly the same as every other, except that the architect had aimed for something quasi-rustic and missed entirely. The aluminum exterior was faux log cabin, a look beyond ridiculous in a sprawling, three-level condo development. Lowell veered off the pavement and onto a dirt path.
"Sandy tell you not to get your panties in a bunch?" Lowell asked.
"Yes."
"Don't take offense. He says that to everyone. Even guys."
"He must be the life of your hunting group."
Muse counted seven cop cars and three other emergency vehicles of one kind or another. All had lights flashing. Why they needed their lights on she had no idea. The residents, a mix of old folks and young families, gathered, drawn by the unnecessary flashing lights, and watched nothing.
"How far is the walk?" Muse asked.
"Mile and a half maybe. You want a tour as we go along?"
"A tour of what?"
"The old murder site. We'll be passing where they found one of the bodies twenty years ago."
"Were you on that case?"
"Peripherally," he said.
"Meaning?"
"Peripherally. Concerned with relatively minor or irrelevant aspects. Dealing with the edges or outskirts. Peripherally."
Muse looked at him.
Lowell might have smiled, but it was hard to tell through the sags. "Not bad for a hunting lodge backwoods hick, eh?"
"I'm dazzled," Muse said.
"You might want to be a tad nicer to me."
"Why's that?"
"First, you sent men to search for a corpse in my county without in forming me. Second, this is my crime scene. You're here as a guest and as a courtesy."
"You're not going to play that jurisdiction game with me, are you?"
"Nah," he said. "But I like sounding tough. How did I do?"
"Eh. So can we continue to the tour?"
"Sure."
The path grew thinner until it practically disappeared. They were climbing on rocks and around trees. Muse had always been something of a tomboy. She enjoyed the activity. And - Flair Hickory be damned - her shoes could handle it.
"Hold up," Lowell said.
The sun continued to dip. Lowell's profile was in silhouette. He took off his hat and