Micanopy in Shadow by Ann Cook

his body solid rather than plump. A shock of gray hair angled above shrewd blue eyes. Brandy shook his hand, noticing the clean, neatly clipped nails. His grip was firm but not bruising. “Brandy O’Bannon,” she said.
    “You the lady who found Hunter?”
    “I’m afraid so, Sergeant. I’m still upset. I only met him once but I liked him.”
    “Deputy Walker says you had an appointment.”
    “He said he had information I wanted. It was about the death of my great-grandmother. I wonder.…”
    Noble interrupted. He was already looking toward the house. “My partner will take you to my office. She’ll want a full statement.” He started toward the body, turning toward the deputy. “You check for footprints or tracks?”
    “This lady had already been to the house. Her prints are on the paved walk and the lawn. Someone else could’ve walked on the paved driveway. If they did, they didn’t leave prints. No one else came over the grass.”
    “Can’t be helped.”
    Another car spun up to the curb, followed by a van—the crime scene techs, probably the medical examiner, too. Brandy edged as far as she dared toward the scene.
    She heard Noble. “God a-mighty, I hate to see this. He was always good to me, but he did rile a lot of people.”
    Noble’s partner had already reached the scene. “Heard he was a bit rough on the bad guys. Had that reputation.”
    “Kicked in a lot of doors. If we did what they say Shot Hunter did, we’d be playing rock hockey in Atlanta now. The Sheriff asked him to take early retirement.” Noble squatted beside the body. “I could name several guys had him in their sights. The Sheriff didn’t like that stuff. He’s by the books.”
    “We’ll check it out. Didn’t he have to testify again soon? One of his cases being re-tried?” Noble nodded. “Wife left him, too. Another guy. Something else to look into.”
    Brandy watched two techs hurry across the front lawn. Noble stepped aside for the techs and spoke to the first. “Go over every square inch of this house and grounds.” One carried cameras and began taking measurements. The other, carrying an evidence kit, began making a quick sketch. The detective glanced behind him and added, “Let the ME in.”
    The medical examiner was a tall skinny physician with a black string tie hanging crookedly from his collar. In one bony hand he held a kit of his own.
    Noble turned next to the crime scene tech with the kit. “Examine those scraps of cardboard near the body. I want a good picture from every angle of the open door, the shots in the chest, and the cardboard. They remind me of a case in Tampa about thirty years ago. The Richard Cloud murder. He was also a former detective, but still after the mob. He was gunned down when he answered the door.”
    Noble glanced up at the doorframe and the screen, still half open. A slug had torn through it. “That killer was carrying a box, like a deliveryman. Killer held his weapon inside the box and shot right through it. The Hillsborough Sheriff’s Office nailed the shooter by identifying the slug. Caught the bastard and convicted him. Unless the techs find some brass, Hunter was shot with a revolver, too.”
    He stared at the scene for a second, then looked at his partner. “I’m going to start canvassing the area. See if anyone heard anything. You take Miss O’Bannon in to the office and tape her statement.”
    Brandy moved closer. She hadn’t forgotten something that could be significant. “When I was here on Saturday, I saw a file folder on Hunter’s kitchen table. It concerned an old case I’m interested in. It was labeled The Losterman case . Will your people look for the folder? It could be important. It had information he said he’d share with me this morning.”
    “Yeah, sure, M’am. Won’t be a toothpick we don’t look at.”
    “Could I find out what’s in the file?”
    Noble shook his head. She was taking too much of his time. “Lady, we keep any evidence