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anyway. You never knew who would turn out to be a top-notch investigator if they just got some practice. Nick squatted and studied the freshly turned earth. Police disruption was everywhere, and his irritation intensified. In this dry weather, there might have been a good footprint.
    “So, you’re going to help me out?”
    The young man looked surprised. He had the washed-out, freckled face of the very fair and couldn’t be much older than 25.
    “Sure.”
    The young man followed Nick around like a housebroken puppy. Finally, the substitute detective paused and pointed to a vague indentation resembling a very narrow tire track.
    “Pour plaster of Paris here and search the area for a discarded shovel, though the likelihood is slim.” He faced the opposite direction. “What’s down there?”
    “The onion and potato fields. The field slopes and then runs into some of the Agrit-Empire’s fields just past the river. Of course, it doesn’t have any water in it this time of year.”
    Nick followed the direction of the rookie’s finger and studied the area. The steep incline guaranteed no vehicle could have managed a getaway in the crumbling dirt. He traced the perimeter of the entire field, but no disruptions of the earth were evident. He was positive the killer had not battled the rough scrub but transported the body from the street. He scanned the elite neighborhood. Beautifully manicured gardens, towering trees, and the gentle curve of the cul-de-sac didn’t seem a prime location for a brutal murder.
    “Whose house is that?” he asked the deputy silently following him around.
    The youth checked his notes. “The house to the left belongs to someone named Collins. It’s apparently vacant—from what the neighbors can tell. The body was discovered by the gardener from the house over there, owned by one Edith Simms. She returned home about forty minutes ago from a shopping trip and the news nearly put her under.”
    “Elderly?”
    “Yeah, plus her gardener found the body. She was quite beside herself when the chief spoke with her. We had to let her go inside because of the heat. Thought we might have a third casualty on our hands.”
    Nick enjoyed the young man’s sense of humor. “I’ll speak with her later.”
    “Oh, just remembered. I’m supposed to give you Inspector Chung’s notes and this.” Randy presented him with a small notepad and a hand-held recorder.
    “Thanks. I need to see the body.”
    “Yeah, you’re supposed to follow me to the coroner’s. The chief’s gonna meet us there. He’s at the hospital now, checking on Roger. Oh, and a lady from down the street said to give the investigating officer this.” He handed Nick a scrap of paper with a name and phone number. “Said her daughter saw some activity at that vacant house earlier this week and someone should come talk to her.”
    Nick pocketed the paper and recorder. “I need you and that gent there.”
    “Officer Steele,” Randy volunteered.
    “Yes, Officer Steele. You’re to visit each one of these houses and impound their wheel barrows.”
    “Wheel barrows?”
    “Yeah—the mayor was lugged to his final resting place in a wheel barrow—see that narrow tire track. It could have originated from any of those houses—or none at all. So get cracking.”
    The freckled junior officer appeared like he wanted to salute, but instead, headed towards his ostentatious police car. Nick hated police cruisers. It was one of the reasons he’d quit the force, amongst a hundred others.

 
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Chapter 3
    Friday, 6:00 pm
     
    Chief Richard Rollins met Nick outside the coroner’s office. Upon being introduced to Nick, he stammered, “I . . . ah . . . sorry. You’re not quite what I expected. I met your father once.” He flushed and glanced down.
    “Then, I sympathize with you. At least you could keep your association brief.”
    Richard seemed disconcerted by the quip. “I need to say thanks for helping us out.