A Beeline to Murder Read Online Free PDF Page A

like he could have strung himself up or he could have been murdered. That homeless woman, Dora, has been by already, looking for free coffee. I want to talk with her because I’m thinking maybe she came by even earlier. If she cut him down, then I’d lean toward it being a possible suicide, but it’s early.”
    “All right. Keep me posted,” the chief commanded. “I’m out for a meeting with the mayor, but I’ll want a full briefing when you’re finished there.”
    “Right, Boss,” Kat said, sounding respectfully subordinate. With the call ended, she turned her attention back to the body, studying the dead man’s neck area.
    “What material do you think made that mark?” Kat asked.
    Otto and Abby jockeyed for a better position, both leaning in for a closer look.
    “You mean the bruising around his neck?” Abby asked. “The twine on the doorknob looks like it might make that kind of narrow ligature.”
    “Well, I’m going to ask Dr. Figelson to speculate on the manner of death, but I’m not holding out any hope that she’ll tell me anything until after an autopsy,” said Kat. She made a sweeping motion with her arm to indicate to Virgil that he could proceed with covering the body.
    “Ready, there, Virgil?” Otto looked at the wide-eyed young man, who stood a couple of feet away, with the drape for covering the corpse still pinched between his fingers. “Like some help there with that sheet?”
    “Uh, yes, sir,” Virgil said. His dark eyes remained riveted on the body. He proffered the unopened plastic bag containing the drape.
    Otto, grinning like a monkey, winked at Abby and asked Virgil, “You scared of something? A dead body can’t hurt you. It ain’t like he could whack you.”
    “Uh-huh,” Virgil muttered. His large dark eyes were fixated on Jean-Louis’s lifeless face.
    Abby shook her head in dismay at Otto’s remark. “You had to go there.”
    Otto looked over at her. “Just saying.”
    “Oh, give it to me,” Kat said impatiently. She grabbed the plastic bag, ripped it open, shook out the bright yellow drape, and covered the body with it. Abby, Kat, and Otto rolled the chef on his side to tuck the drape around and under him, then repeated this maneuver on the other side, effectively bundling him like a baby in a tightly wrapped blanket, before wrapping his hands. They then rolled the body onto one side and maneuvered it into the body bag. Virgil zipped it and, with help from Otto, maneuvered the gurney around the counter, over the wooden threshold, and out the back door to the van.
    A small crowd of onlookers and local business employees was clustered around the yellow crime-scene tape, gawking and pointing at the black, zippered bag on the gurney. A young woman cried out. Appearing to be in her late teens or early twenties, she wore a dark, mid-calf peasant skirt, black leggings, and Doc Martens purple boots with miniature footprints patterned over the leather. She plucked up the crime-scene tape and darted under.
    “What’s happened? Is it Chef Jean-Louis?” she asked.
    Abby spotted peacock tattoos over each shoulder through the see-through, sleeveless blouse the young woman was wearing over a lacy black camisole. Her brown dreadlocks had been threaded with lavender beads and pulled into a huge ponytail at the back of her head, leaving a purple forelock to hang to her chin, where it partially covered one of her heavily made-up eyes. Strange attire and makeup for work in a pastry shop, Abby surmised, but then again, Jean-Louis had seemed to attract unusual characters.
    Kat threw her hand up and ordered the woman to stop. “The tape says, ‘Do not cross.’ That means you need to stay back.”
    “But I work here,” the young woman replied.
    “I’ll come to you,” Kat said. “Your name?” she asked, approaching the woman.
    “Tallulah Berry. The pastry shop cashier. Has something happened to my boss, Chef Jean-Louis?”
    “Why do you think something’s happened to