entrance, and a middle-aged man was helping Lilly pull Styrofoam coolers from the trunk. The man wore black military BDU pants and a black knit shirt like a modified SWAT uniform. “I didn’t know you were having a tailgate party, Lilly,” Liddell said as he and Jack approached the open trunk.
“Jack Murphy, Liddell Blanchard,” Lilly said. “Meet Mike Jones.”
Jack noticed the Harrisburg Police Department shield embroidered on the left breast of the knit shirt. He wasn’t wearing a street cop’s gun belt with all the nifty tools of the trade, but he was carrying a Smith & Wesson semiautomatic and a pair of federal handcuffs tucked into his waist.
“Detective Jones. Harrisburg PD.” He extended a hand to Jack and then Liddell.
“Forty caliber?” Jack asked him.
“Smith & Wesson M&P40, double-action, fifteen-round clip and one in the pipe. It’s kickass,” Jones said like he was talking about his child just hitting a homerun.
“Introductions over,” Lilly said. “Before you ask, yes, Dr. John’s here and doing something in his office. Now help me with this.” She held out the cooler and Liddell took it.
“Where do you want me to put it?” Liddell asked.
Lilly turned on him, eyes the size of Ping-Pong balls behind her thick lenses, and said, “You don’t want me to tell you where to put it, but I will if you keep standing there like a big ape.”
She headed off through the garage and into a door in back. Jack led the men after her and entered the autopsy room, where Lilly had already pulled out a steel gurney.
“This is some crazy shit, huh?” Jones said. “You find a body yet?”
“I’m not holding my breath,” Jack responded. He’d read the news about the murders in Harrisburg a couple of years back, but he didn’t remember if they found the bodies to match the heads. “This isn’t Harrisburg’s first rodeo, is it?” Jack asked.
“No,” Jones said. “We had two heads left smack in the middle of Main Street four years ago. Then, two years ago, a head was found on top of a dumpster. And now these two. Never any bodies, though.”
“Any leads?” Jack asked.
Jones said, “We identified the first three victims. They were all meth heads. And I think I know who these two are. The female was a meth head prostitute, and the guy was her pimp and a drug dealer. One of our narcotics guys is verifying that as we speak.”
Those are different from ours. “So you think it was a drug thing?”
Jones rubbed the back of his neck. “Looks like it.”
“Ours wasn’t involved in drugs that we know of. She was a deputy prosecutor here and I don’t think she handled any drug cases. She was dumped at the landfill, so not out in public like yours.”
“And ours was armed when we found her,” Liddell pointed out, and both detectives turned to him. “I mean, we found an arm, too.”
“You have anything serious to add, Bigfoot?” Jack asked.
Liddell grinned and said, “Hey! I’m just proud to be allowed to watch two great detectives putting all the leads together.”
“You boys done bonding?” Lilly asked, wedging between Jack and the Illinois detective. “Doc’s ready.”
They made their way to the autopsy room.
“Let’s see if we can make some headway here,” Jones deadpanned, causing Jack to groan and Liddell to grin.
Deputy Chief Richard Dick finished the telephone call, placed the old-fashioned handset back in its cradle, and studied his reflection in the mirror above the table. He was proud of his shape—not a bit of fat, and his features and prominent nose looked like they were chiseled from a block of stone. He was considered to be ruthless in his dealings with his police officers, and he was glad he had that reputation. Getting cooperation was easier if the rank and file feared him.
His wife of thirty years was in the kitchen making lemonade, just the way he liked it, with real lemons and real honest-to-God sugar. He and Barbara had planned to sit on their air-conditioned patio and listen to Eddie Money on the new surround-sound system he’d had installed out there. From down the hall he could hear “Two Tickets to Paradise” was just finishing up. Next would be “Take Me Home Tonight”—his favorite.
“Who was it, honey?” Barbara asked, and he was pleased to hear her slicing another lemon. She was happiest when she was making him happy. And he was happy that she was that way. Their mutual desire for his happiness was what made their marriage work.
“It’s