“Two victims, sir.”
“Cause is suspicious?” he wanted to know.
“Yes, sir. Both victims appear to have sustained gunshots to the head.”
“Jesus,” Gunderson muttered.
Francis gave up on my butt and moved around in a circle to stick his nose as close to my crotch as he could get it. Nathanial snickered. Colfax’s jaw twitched.
I ignored Francis. “Bullets and casings were located in predictable lines from both victims, consistent with an execution and a suicide.”
“You see a lot of those?” Mallet asked me.
“More than my fair share,” I replied. I didn’t actually know how many, which told me it was definitely too many.
“Jesus,” Gunderson repeated.
Francis shoved his nose into my thigh. I kept ignoring him.
“I guess they get more of that sort of thing in the big city, eh?” Mallet remarked.
“I expect so, sir,” I replied.
“Take us over, then,” he ordered.
I glanced at Colfax to make sure that was allowed, and at their nod, led the way.
A little ways into the house, Francis started barking, a funny half-bark, half-whine.
“Sorry!” Gunderson tried to hush the dog. “Sorry, he’s in training.”
“For what?” I asked her, trying to be friendly.
“Oh, um. Drugs, chemicals, that sort of thing.” Gunderson’s cheeks were pink as she tried to get Francis to hush.
“So things like accelerants?” I asked.
“What? Um. Yeah. Why?”
“Because he’s being a good dog,” I told her, then ruffled Francis’s ears. “Yes, you are. You did good. You found the accelerant. Good Francis.”
Francis began to wiggle around, thrashing his tail and dancing in a circle. I’d already taken samples from this particular area—since I could smell the same thing Francis was presumably smelling.
“That’s right, good Francis.”
“You paying attention, Gunderson?” Mallet asked from behind me where he’d been looking at the first victim—the one I assumed had been shot by the other.
“Sir?” She sounded nervous.
“Mays here understands dogs.”
I tried to smile at Gunderson in a way that seemed reassuring. “I have some experience,” I said, hedging. “And I encountered a few K9s in Richmond.”
I stood, giving Francis one last pat, and went to join Mallet. Gunderson took over petting the dog, then brought him over to join us. He gave another set of whine-barks, and Gunderson soothed him with praise and a treat from a pocket, which he delicately took from her fingers.
“Okay, Mays,” Mallet said. “Talk to me.”
We’d been out therefor a few more hours, my back and knee both aching, before Dr. Douglas Borde, the world’s most apathetic and annoying ME, made his anticlimactic appearance.
