was to have a crime scene right outside the sheriff’s window. She couldn’t see much through the thickening snowfall, and was glad of that. ‘We need to put up some sort of plastic sheeting to preserve as much of the scene as possible. Do we have such things in the building?’
Sampson didn’t say anything for a second, so she turned around and looked at him. She didn’t like him lying back in the recliner as if he were in his own living room. It was disrespectful, wasn’t it? And if she ever intended to take charge of this office and do the job well, it was important that she establish the ground rules of respect right at the beginning, and now was as good a time as ever to start …
‘That was good thinking about the plastic sheeting,’ he said, messing up the mental speech she was planning about behavior modification, thoroughly confusing her because she thought he may have actually said something nice to her. ‘But a little slow. I already had some boys pick up a tent from the rental shop. They’re putting it up now. Christ, what a morning. You going to put lace curtains up in here or what?’
Iris just stared at him for a minute, finally deciding that she had a better chance of modifying the behavior of an earthworm. The truth was, a man like Sampson belonged in this office more than she did. He looked different with the hood pushed back. Dark hair, which seemed appropriate for some reason, squinty dark eyes, and the scruff of a weekend beard. Precisely the appearance of a man you’d expect to find in a wood-paneled office with a flat-screen television, leather recliners, and a stack of Playboy s on a table.
Sampson pushed himself up from the recliner, apparently weary of her silence. ‘Well, I just wanted to see if the Minneapolis boys were going to show or if we had to start processing the scene ourselves. I’ve got to get back out there.’ He stopped at the doorway. ‘I suppose you want to interview the night janitor who found the body.’
Iris blinked. ‘Yes, I do.’
‘I’ll send her in. Margie Jensen, in case you haven’t met.’
‘Thank you.’
Iris waited until he was well out of the office before she sagged back down into the stupid leather chair and started wishing she were dead, or at least home, with her cat throwing up on her foot.
She’d never even thought to ask who had found the body. She didn’t know what the hell she was doing. And Sampson knew it.
You’re not fooling anyone, Iris. You never walked the street or manned a patrol or processed a crime scene. You don’t even speak the same language as these people .
A short older woman in coveralls rapped on the door frame with a broom handle and walked right in. ‘I’m the janitor, Margie Jensen, and I don’t know anything.’
Iris smiled at her. That makes two of us .
12
It was pushing nine a.m. and snowing hard by the time Magozzi and Gino finally got on the road in one of the department SUVs and headed north out of the city.
Magozzi was behind the wheel, Gino was rigid and still in the passenger seat, giving himself a gastric bypass with a too-tight seat belt, staring out the windshield as if he could prevent catastrophe by not blinking. ‘I hate these damn SUVs,’ he said. ‘We’re too damn high. Bet we tip over twenty times on the way up there.’
‘Can’t tip over,’ Magozzi said. ‘The ice ruts under the snow are too deep.’
The morning’s icy pellets had turned to snow, the wind was gusting, and the plows were having trouble keeping up, even on the city freeways. Magozzi figured visibility was about two car-lengths, give or take. It got worse once they cleared the shelter of the downtown buildings; worse yet when they left the suburbs behind and hit open land.
‘Starting to feel like we’re driving off the edge of the world here, Leo. I can’t see for shit.’
‘We’ve got swampland on both sides, nothing to stop the wind. It’ll get better once we hit some woods.’ Magozzi was
Sampson didn’t say anything for a second, so she turned around and looked at him. She didn’t like him lying back in the recliner as if he were in his own living room. It was disrespectful, wasn’t it? And if she ever intended to take charge of this office and do the job well, it was important that she establish the ground rules of respect right at the beginning, and now was as good a time as ever to start …
‘That was good thinking about the plastic sheeting,’ he said, messing up the mental speech she was planning about behavior modification, thoroughly confusing her because she thought he may have actually said something nice to her. ‘But a little slow. I already had some boys pick up a tent from the rental shop. They’re putting it up now. Christ, what a morning. You going to put lace curtains up in here or what?’
Iris just stared at him for a minute, finally deciding that she had a better chance of modifying the behavior of an earthworm. The truth was, a man like Sampson belonged in this office more than she did. He looked different with the hood pushed back. Dark hair, which seemed appropriate for some reason, squinty dark eyes, and the scruff of a weekend beard. Precisely the appearance of a man you’d expect to find in a wood-paneled office with a flat-screen television, leather recliners, and a stack of Playboy s on a table.
Sampson pushed himself up from the recliner, apparently weary of her silence. ‘Well, I just wanted to see if the Minneapolis boys were going to show or if we had to start processing the scene ourselves. I’ve got to get back out there.’ He stopped at the doorway. ‘I suppose you want to interview the night janitor who found the body.’
Iris blinked. ‘Yes, I do.’
‘I’ll send her in. Margie Jensen, in case you haven’t met.’
‘Thank you.’
Iris waited until he was well out of the office before she sagged back down into the stupid leather chair and started wishing she were dead, or at least home, with her cat throwing up on her foot.
She’d never even thought to ask who had found the body. She didn’t know what the hell she was doing. And Sampson knew it.
You’re not fooling anyone, Iris. You never walked the street or manned a patrol or processed a crime scene. You don’t even speak the same language as these people .
A short older woman in coveralls rapped on the door frame with a broom handle and walked right in. ‘I’m the janitor, Margie Jensen, and I don’t know anything.’
Iris smiled at her. That makes two of us .
12
It was pushing nine a.m. and snowing hard by the time Magozzi and Gino finally got on the road in one of the department SUVs and headed north out of the city.
Magozzi was behind the wheel, Gino was rigid and still in the passenger seat, giving himself a gastric bypass with a too-tight seat belt, staring out the windshield as if he could prevent catastrophe by not blinking. ‘I hate these damn SUVs,’ he said. ‘We’re too damn high. Bet we tip over twenty times on the way up there.’
‘Can’t tip over,’ Magozzi said. ‘The ice ruts under the snow are too deep.’
The morning’s icy pellets had turned to snow, the wind was gusting, and the plows were having trouble keeping up, even on the city freeways. Magozzi figured visibility was about two car-lengths, give or take. It got worse once they cleared the shelter of the downtown buildings; worse yet when they left the suburbs behind and hit open land.
‘Starting to feel like we’re driving off the edge of the world here, Leo. I can’t see for shit.’
‘We’ve got swampland on both sides, nothing to stop the wind. It’ll get better once we hit some woods.’ Magozzi was
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