Murray heard us and whirled around. “Don’t encourage him, Emerald. And you—” she pointed to George. “If you start any rumors, I swear I’ll find a reason to run you in. Keep your mouth shut unless you know something concrete about the murder.”
Just then we heard noises coming from the main trail. The police and the coroner had arrived. Murray called to them while Jimbo found himself a log to sit on. George edged his way to the outer circle of the clearing.
Deacon Wilson and Sandy Whitmeyer were two of the best cops on the squad. They were followed by a stocky man, wearing a suit that was too small and too shiny. He was older and looked more out of shape than I felt. He eyed Murray with a look that told me immediately who he was. Jeez, Coughlan, her supervisor!
He scratched his head as he stared at the body, as the coroner tried to scoot around him, finally tapping him on the shoulder so he could get through to do his work. Murray sidled over to me, and I could tell just how thrilled she was that her nemesis had decided to oversee the case.
Deacon started to take photographs, while Sandy began skimming through the dirt, looking for evidence.
Murray asked me to tell Bob Stryker, the coroner and also the M.E. for Chiqetaw, how I’d found the biker. He had already turned the body over, and I didn’t want to see what poor Scar looked like face-up, so I averted my eyes as best as I could. Since I was pretty sure that Stryker wouldn’t go in for all my psychic “mumbo-jumbo,” I just told him that I’d gone for a walk after lunch and veered off the path because I’d seen the eyeglasses reflecting in the sun. Which was the truth, essentially.
Stryker grunted.
Coughlan leaned over his shoulder. “Look at those slashes. Looks like an animal attack to me.”
The M.E. cocked his head and stared at the detective. “Maybe. I can’t be sure until I autopsy him, though.”
As I watched the interplay, Coughlan casually reached over and squeezed Stryker’s shoulder. Hmm . . . what was going on here?
“Cougar was spotted a few miles from here the other day, Bob,” Coughlan said. “Almost got hold of a poodle. Woman was frantic when she called in. Trust me, it was a cougar. I’m sure you’ll come to the same conclusion once you’ve had a chance to thoroughly autopsy the body. We’ll discuss it over dinner. Laura’s making pot roast tonight.”
An undercurrent ran between the two men and I squinted, staring intently at Coughlan, who must have sensed my observation because he looked at me, narrowed his eyes, then motioned to Murray. “Get your ass in gear and take her statement,Detective Murray. Tell Whitmeyer and Wilson to talk to the others.”
Murray nodded. After a quick word with Sandy and Deacon, she drew me away to one side where we wouldn’t be overheard. Since she’d already jotted down everything I’d told her, she pretended to write while leaning close enough to whisper.
“That overgrown buffoon makes me so mad. Head of detectives, my ass. Jimmy’s right. He’s a lazy SOB. He’s also right about the fact that Coughlan won’t look very hard to find Scar’s killer.”
“So you don’t think a cougar did this?” I asked.
She shook her head. “I’ve seen cougar attacks. I suppose to the untrained eye it could look the same, but no, I’ll wager ten to one that Scar was murdered.”
“Why would Coughlan try to cover it up, though?”
“Eh, he’s not really trying to ‘cover it up.’ More like he just doesn’t want to deal with an in-depth investigation that could take months to solve. He probably figures that nobody will give a damn since the victim is from the Klickavail enclave. Coughlan’s a lazy SOB, and he’s just putting in time until he retires a few years from now. If he passes this off as a cougar attack, you can be sure nobody’s going to question him. Now, if one of the town financiers showed up, mangled like that, then you’d see Coughlan scramble. Double standard, Em. And no, it’s not right, but it exists.”
I gazed at the head of detectives, who was whispering in the coroner’s ear. “Coughlan and Stryker seem to be pretty cozy.”
She nodded. “Coughlan married Laura Stryker, Bob’s sister. Rumor has it that Bob borrowed ten thousand dollars from them last year and hasn’t paid them back yet. So you know he’s going to do whatever he can to keep the peace.”
“Nepotism in action, huh?” I shook my head. Political corruption, all the way to the ground level.
Mur shrugged. “Not much we can do right now, except watch.” After a pause, she added, “Em, will you do me a favor, as my best friend?”
I knew what she was going to ask. “You want me to keep quiet about your relationship with Jimbo?”
She blushed. “We were going to tell you pretty soon, but with me being a cop and Jim having such a long rap sheet, it’s bound to stir up trouble. My friends won’t understand because he’s got such a reputation for being a roughneck. And his friends won’t talk to him if they think he’s dating a cop. But I was wrong about him, Em. He’s a sweetheart. Yes, he’s bullheaded, and I’ll admit he doesn’t have the best record in the history of Chiqetaw, but he’s a good guy.”
I looked into those deep, obsidian eyes of hers and knew that she really was happy with Jimbo. When I’d found them in the clearing, there’d been a spark between them that told me this was more than a mild flirtation. And I wasn’t going to play party to taking that away from her. “Of course, I’ll keep my mouth shut. But I want to hear all about it when this is over. You owe me that!”
“You’re on. And . . . thanks, babe.”
Coughlan barked an order for her to get her ass over there, so she headed back to the body. Sandy and Deacon were still questioning Jimbo and George.
I decided to nose around the outskirts of the clearing. I had just set foot through the tangle of ferns past the crime tape when, to my dismay, I found myself staring into the face of Cathy Sutton. Oh God, why her? Why now?
“So Emerald, we meet again!” She trampled her way through the bushes to where I was standing and thrust her microphone in my face. “I suppose you’re on the case, helping solve yet another murder? Have the police called you in as a psychic?”
How the hell had she gotten wind of what was happening? Maybe they’d been listening to a police scanner? I glanced back into the clearing. Wait a minute.George and his cell phone. George worked for the station as an intern. Yep, he’d called in the big guns. I turned back to her.