A chilling death

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Orson Rissik asked in a low tone.

I pushed my dark glasses up my nose. "Come on, Orson. You said I could bring the kid to a crime scene."

"Yeah," Rissik said, pacing across the garage, "but I didn't think you'd bring him to a grisly murder."

Rissik was a chief of detectives in Fairfax County, Virginia. As a private detective I had helped him with enough cases to have built up some capital. I was spending some of it on Monte, the neighborhood boy I was sort of mentoring. Monte lives with his grandmother but growing up in Southeast DC I just figure he needs a strong male influence in his life.

"Relax, man, he won't touch anything." I hopped up to sit on the chest freezer at the clean end. "And Saturday morning means no reporters for a while. Besides, maybe he can help. He watches all those forensic shows on TV."

I could see that Monte was as excited as any young teenager would be to be allowed behind the yellow tape. He was probably excited anyway to be out in Fairfax County where, unlike our neighborhood in the District, people live in houses that have attached garages. His eyes bounced around the flurry of quiet activity, and I tried to follow his focus. The classic two-seater Thunderbird with its hood raised. The dirty rag lying beside an oil can and the oil that had run from it onto the floor. The blood smear on the corner of the freezer opposite from where I was sitting. The dead man on the floor, face up, his head lying on a splotch of red. And the medical examiner kneeling beside the corpse, who smiled up at Monte as he prepared to stab the body with what looked like an overgrown meat thermometer.

I’m not a teenager, so I had no interest in seeing that operation. I turned my attention back to Rissik and the tall blonde man facing him. He wore a jogging suit and expensive running shoes which helped him to bounce from one foot to the other without making any noise. This guy was the only person in the garage, aside from Monte, who didn't look like a cop.

“Witness?”

“Found the body,” Rissik replied. “George Taylor, meet Hannibal Jones. He consults with the department from time to time.”

I tried for a comforting smile at Taylor. “So you had the bad luck to be the first person to see your friend dead, eh?”

“Quinn had asked me to come over and help him work on the car this morning,” Taylor said.

“Quinn Donnally,” Rissik added. “Otherwise known as the deceased.”

“That must have been an ugly surprise,” I said, casting my eyes back toward the body and trying to imagine the impact of walking in on the corpse of a man I knew.

“It was awful,” Taylor said, visibly shaken. He wiped his face with a big, athletic hand. I dropped back to my feet.

“Is that blood on your sleeve?”

Taylor looked at the red splotch on his arm, his eyes widening. “Oh God. When I came in I saw the blood over there on the freezer, but I thought maybe Quinn was just knocked out. So I checked him over but there was no pulse. I must have gotten the blood on my shirt when I was checking him out. How… how long was he lying there?”

We all turned around then and, like Monte, our attention went to the medical examiner. He whispered to Monte, who turned with pride to the assembled group.

“Liver temperature indicates a time of death twelve hours ago.”

Taylor’s eyes flashed left and right. “Twelve? That means he died last night while I was drinking and dancing like an idiot at Cheryl’s birthday party. She’ll be devastated. If only Quinn had accepted her invitation.”

I leaned back against the freezer, arms crossed. I kind of thought I knew what would happen next, and just wanted to see how Rissik handled it. He’s pretty good for a cop, but this time he surprised me.

“All right, Mr. Taylor,” Rissik said. “I can see you’re pretty distraught. You can go home now. We’ll take it from here.”

I spoke before I had time to think. “Orson, you’re kidding right? You’re cutting him loose?”

Rissik put on his stubborn bull face. “And why not? He’s a friend of the deceased. He’s upset. He’s got an easily verified alibi for the time of death. Why in hell should I hold him?”

I ignored Rissik for a second and turned to Monte. “What do you say, little buddy? What’s wrong with this story?” I was disappointed by the blank look on Monte’s face. Hadn’t I taught him anything? With a heavy sigh I took Taylor’s wrist and held up his arm, pointing at the bloodstain.

“Back off, Hannibal,” Rissik said. “He told you he got blood on his sleeve when he checked his poor dead friend.”

I stared hard at Monte again, watching the wheels turn behind his eyes, mentally prompting him to show the cops something. After a few seconds I saw it happen. The lightbulb moment.

“It’s not right,” Monte said tentatively. “Mr. Taylor said he found the body this morning, what, an hour ago?” Rissik nodded. I waved to Monte to continue.

“If Mr. Donnally was already dead for twelve hours, then all the blood would have been dry. Dried blood wouldn’t get on Mr. Taylor’s sleeve like that.”

It was worth it to see Rissik’s mouth drop open. He hated to be made a fool of. But he wasn’t sure yet.

“Well, I’ll admit that looks kind of suspicious but if Donnally died more recently, what about the examiner’s time of death?”

“Please,” I said with a grimace. I looked from Rissik to the body, to the chest freezer, and back to Rissik. Monte picked it up right away, and slapped the medical examiner's arm.

"You've got to check inside the freezer for forensic evidence. Bet you find hair and other stuff from the dead guy. That’s how the killer brought the body temp down so fast."

"Gee, that would make you wonder why the deceased would take a nap in there," I told Rissik. "Then you can ask Taylor here what his beef was with his friend here, and why he went to such lengths to fix up such a sloppy alibi."

Then I gave Monte a wink. He didn’t need words. It’s like that between us. He knew I was proud, and was thinking that maybe I’d make an investigator out of him someday.