Annie Seymour 01-Sacred Cows by Karen E. Olson

omelets. I almost forgot about Mark Torrey as we sifted through the Times.
    Tom’s cell phone went off at the same time my phone rang.
    “Annie, we got another one.” Marty’s voice was gruff, and I wondered if it hadn’t been his turn to be out partying the night before.
    Tom’s mouth tightened as he listened to his caller, and he moved into the bedroom, out of view.
    “Another one what?” I asked Marty.
    “Another body.”
    I froze. “Where?”
    “In a parking lot near Ninth Square. That’s all I know. Turn on your scanner, that’s where I’m hearing it from.”
    My scanner was somewhere in the pile of newspapers on the back seat of my car. “Is it a girl?”
    “Yeah. But, like I said, that’s all I know.”
    “Which parking lot?”
    “The one across from that Chinese place, you know, Royal Palace.”
    I knew the place. They had a great crispy whole fish with spicy Hunan sauce and amazing sautéed green beans, not to mention delicious scallion pancakes. The owner talked me into trying jellyfish one night, but that was less than stellar.
    “Okay, I’ll call you when I know something.”
    I hung up just as Tom was emerging from the bedroom, fully dressed. He was one step ahead of me.
    “I’m heading over there,” he said. “I guess I’ll see you.” He slammed the door behind him without kissing me goodbye. I picked up a pair of jeans off the floor and pulled them on.
    The street was blocked off, and I had to park near the Coliseum and walk over to the scene. A uniform held his arm out to keep me from ducking under the yellow police tape.
    “I’m Annie Seymour, with the Herald, ” I tried.
    “Sorry, I know who you are. I have orders to keep you as far away as possible.”
    That stopped me. Orders? “From who?”
    “Detective in charge. Tom Behr.”
    The rage bubbled up into my chest and settled in my throat. I saw Tom on the other side of the parking lot, amid the crowd. Asshole. And I shared my last glass of orange juice with him. I made him an omelet. He couldn’t do this to me. I walked around the edge of the chain-link fence and around to the back, to try to get a closer look. And maybe punch out the cop in charge.
    He spotted me hovering.
    “Get out of here, Annie.”
    It was then that I saw the blood. A lot of it, more blood than I had ever seen in one place.
    “Is this all from her?” I asked.
    “You can’t come in here.”
    Suddenly I didn’t want to. “Jesus, what happened?”
    “Stabbed. More times than I can count at the moment.”
    “ID?”
    “Not until next of kin.” He walked away again, his shoulders sagging. But it didn’t mean I wasn’t still mad at him.
    TV crews were arriving, and I thought I saw Richard Wells close behind. I maneuvered around a little and stooped down to see if I could see anything between the rows of legs.
    Nothing. The cops had the whole place blocked off. I ran around to the other side of the parking lot, but still couldn’t get a good look.
    I looked up at the crowd across the way and saw no one was getting anywhere, I was glad I wasn’t the only one. Uh-oh, there was Richard Wells turning the corner, waving a genial hello to the cops, making his way under the yellow tape . . . hey, wait a minute. Who gave him permission?
    I skipped back to where I’d started, keeping an eye on Wells, who was talking to Tom. Maybe he could go home with Wells instead of me. This was way too much. I started to go under the tape, just as Wells had done, but a TV camera got in my way. I elbowed the reporter, who stuck her bony finger in my side.
    “Move over,” I growled. She moved close enough so my nose stuck into her fancy hairdo, and I almost fell over because of the noxious fumes from her hair spray. I caught Tom’s eye as I got closer, and he shook his head, his forehead furrowed, his eyes meaning business.
    Okay, so maybe I didn’t really want to see the stabbing victim. Maybe the thought of all that blood made me sick to my stomach. But he let