Dead on the Delta Read Online Free PDF Page A

himself another swipe—which he narrowly avoids—and a hiss.
    In the cat’s defense, I wouldn’t want Dicker’s pudgy sausage fingers anywhere near me, either. He’s a round, cheery-looking guy, but skeevy. Like a perverted, cranky black Santa, complete with chubby cheeks and a graying beard Cane lets him keep against county regulation and common sense. What kind of nut job wants fur on his face during a southern Louisiana summer?
    Dicker, apparently.
    “Nasty. Little. Bastard.” Dicker shakes his head. “You should get that thing put down.”
    “Can’t. He’s not mine. I just can’t get rid of him,” I say. “And I’m not up on cats, but cat scratch fever is caused by bacteria.”
    “Oh, yeah?”
    “
Bartonella
bacteria, two different strains.” I learned a few things in med school, though I don’t like to admit it. “
Bartonella henselae
and
Bartonella
—”
    “Yeah, yeah. You’re a smart-ass.”
    I grunt in agreement and steal another look at the house. Doesn’t seem like Cane’s coming out anytime soon.
Dammit.
I’ll have to give Dicker my request. Suckity suck. Cane would have kept my mistake quiet, or as quiet as possible considering Captain Munoz is going to be called in. But with Dicker doing the paperwork, Theresa’s visit is ensured to be A Deal. And maybe even A Big Deal.
    Unless …
    Dom would probably take care of the request for me without a fuss. I could wait for him to comeback from the other side of the house where Grace’s window—the window she was allegedly pulled through the night of her disappearance—is located. Or I could sneak under the crime scene tape and go find him. Cane won’t be happy to know I contaminated the scene with another set of footprints, but I figure I’ve earned the right to contaminate with what I had to do this morning.
    “Watch my cat, Dicker.” I head out of the shade and across the wide side lawn.
    “I thought it wasn’t—Hey, you can’t go back there,” Dicker calls after me as I duck under the bright yellow tape. “You’re going to piss everyone off.”
    I ignore him, but keep to the stone path as I walk around to the back. He doesn’t come after me. A glance over my shoulder reveals he hasn’t even left the shade of the live oak where my bike and the squad car are parked. Real dedicated to the job there, Dicker. I would tattle on him, but who am I to throw stones? I’m the girl who’s over a week late with her field samples and somehow missed a Breeze lab sitting right in the middle of her location, that’s who. Poster girl for Dedication and Excellence I am not.
    I spot Dom’s stabby brown hair near the steps leading to the back porch, and hurry over. “Hey, Dom. Can I ask a quick favor?”
    “You’re not supposed to be back here,” he says, but he doesn’t sound upset.
    Or surprised. He doesn’t even stand up, just stays in a squat, staring at some mud near the side of thehouse. It looks like there was a hose leaking there not too long ago. It’s damper than the light rain last night could have managed on its own.
    “Yeah, I know, but I didn’t want to ask Dicker. You know how he is.”
    “What do you need?”
    “I need you to call in Munoz from New Orleans,” I say, relieved now that I’ve confessed. It always feels good to pass the buck. “I found a Breeze house while I was collecting samples today.”
    “You’re kidding.” He still doesn’t look at me. Must be something really interesting there in the mud. I inch closer, peering over his shoulder. Are those footprints? They’re enormous.
    I look up. Grace’s window is on the first story, about four feet off the ground. If I stand on tiptoe I can peek through the pink curtains, see the unicorn mural on the wall. There’s a blond girl riding one of the unicorns, a big smile on her face. I wonder if the guy who took Grace saw the mural, or if it was too dark. I wonder—
    “Nope.” Focus. I have to focus. I don’t want to think about Grace or who killed