A Luring Murder by Stacy Verdick Case Page B

couldn’t remove the body until the victim was officially pronounced dead. If an M.E. kept a team of investigator’s waiting half a day, the mob mentality would win out, and we’d need an M.E. to pronounce the M.E.
    “The knife easily filleted him,” Digs said. “He had been dead for a while by the time he was cut open.”
    “How do you know?” Gavin had come up to stand next to me with his own plate of food, not as heaped as Digs’, but teetering on the verge of overflowing.
    Close on his heels was the little white mutt. He curled up and laid at Gavin’s feet. He and I were going to have a conversation about that dog soon.
    “Louise noticed that there were no spatter marks in the fish house. She thought that indicated he’d been killed somewhere else, because the slash to his neck would have sent blood everywhere.”
    Gavin had speared a piece of battered fish covered in red sauce. He turned the fork over and set it down.
    “Which would have been correct, except the slash to his neck wasn’t what killed him. The cut was too shallow. He wasn’t killed by a knife at all.”
    “Then what killed him?”
    Louise leaned forward far enough to make Digs nervous. He knew as well as I did that Louise’s patience for a long reveal was low. She wanted him to get to the point now.
    “He had nasty blow to his head. That's what did him in.”
    Digs tucked his punch cup in the crook of his elbow and managed to hold the cup without spilling his food, while he grabbed another chip to munch on.
    “How can you tell?” Gavin said.
    Digs crunched his chip then swallowed. “Because he didn’t bleed out. The blood in his body pooled on his back, from his shoulders all the way down his legs.”
    I folded my arms over my chest. Perspiration was beginning to make my under arms sticky, but so far my deodorant was holding.
    “What you’re saying is, someone conked him on the head, cut his throat, and then cut him open?”
    “It looks that way.”
    Louise shook her head. “That gives new meaning to the word overkill.”
    “And that gives new meaning to the word understatement,” I said.
    “Catherine.” It was a warning. I got them often when I used sarcasm on Louise.
    “Then we don’t have the murder weapon yet?” I said.
    “Not yet, and we don’t know yet if we even have the primary crime scene.” Digs’ face was sympathetic.
    This news created a whole new set of problems. With the murder weapon in hand, we had a buoy on the water that might point us in the direction of our killer, but now we were adrift and lost again.
    “Any idea where the knife came from?” Louise asked.
    “It’s a Rapala brand knife, a pretty common brand of fillet knife.”
    “I have one,” Gavin said.
    We all stared at him.
    “No mine is not missing,” he said.
    I smiled. “We already ruled you out after the resort owner said he saw you near the fish house this morning.”
    He furrowed his brows at me.
    “What about the fabric and the stuff used to stick the knife to the table?” I said.
    Digs took a deep breath and glanced at his plate full of food longingly. The layers of fried food must be calling to him.
    “Louise was right about the fabric,” he said. “It was pure linen. Nice quality too. Probably imported. I’m still working on the gum you found. The chemical composite analysis is running now.”
    “Let us know what you find,” Louise said. “I’m going back to the cabin for some peace and quiet. I can’t think with all this noise.”
    The Minnelli wannabe had located a karaoke machine and was bombarding us with her off key bizarre rendition of Living La Vida Loca . That might have had a lot to do with Louise’s abrupt exit, but I think she was tired anyway. She shouldn’t have been pushing herself so hard.
    “I think I’m going back to our cabin too,” I said. “If you don’t mind, Gavin, all this heavy partying has worn me out.”
    “I don’t mind.” Gavin grimaced as Minnelli hit a particularly sour note.