My phone buzzed on the floor next to the sleeping bag, the Beatles song blaring into the quiet night. It was four in the morning and I was still awake. A new place and sleeping on the floor equaled a terrible night's rest.
I squeezed my arms out of the sleeping bag and grabbed the phone. It was the police station. Must be an emergency for them to be calling at this hour.
“This is Sheriff White,” I answered.
“Uh...Sheriff White...it's Officer Moore...” His nervousness bled through the phone.
“Take a deep breath and tell me what happened.”
I listened as Moore inhaled sharply. “We have a body here at the junkyard on the east side of town.”
“Okay Officer Moore, can you give me directions?”
I ran to the kitchen to find a spare pen and blank piece of paper. Moore rattled off the cross streets. “Be there in twenty,” I told him, ending the call.
I rushed to the pile of dirty clothes in the corner of the bedroom and began putting them back on. I had no time to sort through moving boxes to find a fresh outfit. I brushed my hair and grabbed my holster and gun on the way out. Ariel meowed at me as I closed the door. “Be back soon, kitty cat.”
I arrived at the junkyard and an officer lifted the caution tape as I ducked through. The sun was barely creeping up and the birds were already singing. I found Officer Moore pacing back and forth around the body. Before I could get there, Officer Johnson surprised me. What the fuck was he doing here?
“Can I talk to you for a moment, Sheriff?” His demeanor had changed, his shoulders slouched and head down.
I walked off to the side with him, still fascinated by Officer Moore's pacing. “Are you ready to come back, Johnson?”
He nodded. “I wanted to apologize for the way I acted the other day. I was totally out of line. It's just that Sheriff Mendoza was a mentor to me and to have somebody else filling his shoes...”
I put my hand up for him to stop. “It's fine, Johnson. You can get your badge and gun when we get back to the station. For now, help us out with this body.”
We walked over to Moore who stopped pacing and cleaned his glasses. “Were the directions okay, Sheriff?”
“What do we have here?” I asked him.
Moore put his glasses back on and bent down over the body. “Older male in his early fifty's. One single shot to the neck.”
I recognized him immediately. It was Garcia who I only met a few days ago. Now here he was, dried blood caked all over him and two gold coins over his eyes. What happened here? I stepped away from the body and strolled around the crime scene.
A pair of boot prints were stuck in the blood but I knew that would only be a needle in a haystack. A large caliber bullet was found near the head of Garcia. Looked to be from a sniper rifle. I positioned myself where Garcia was most likely to be standing when he was shot. I peered straight ahead and up. An office building about two hundred yards away had the perfect vantage point.
“I want a team on the roof of that office building over there,” I announced. Nobody moved for a moment until Johnson pointed to two officers and they left the junkyard.
I went back to the dead body, running through all the possible scenarios in my head. It had to of been the Rabid Dog MC. A single sniper shot during a meeting but how did they get away without more dead bodies?
I pointed to the stack of cars. “There might be more dead bodies here. Make sure to check out all the cars before we leave. Also get a statement from the owner of the junkyard.
Johnson nodded and threw out some orders to a guy standing by the caution tape. Maybe he was going to be more helpful than I thought?
“What are the gold coins for?” I asked, pointing at Garcia's one eye. “Does the Rabid Dog MC do this to their enemies?”
Moore looked dumbfounded. Johnson spoke up, “The Death Merchants do it to fallen brothers.”
That didn't make any sense. “But what reason did they have to kill their leader?”
Johnson shook his head. “They didn't kill him. Somebody else did and the Mexicans left the body for us with the gold coins in his eyes.”
I still had a lot to learn about the gangs in this town. “So instead of taking the body and burying it themselves, they wanted us to find the killer?”
Johnson picked at his ear. “I've seen it a few times before. It's a way for them to put the heat on their enemy.”
I circled around the body, looking for anymore clues. “Wouldn't they want their enemy dead? Why get them arrested?”
“Sacks County Prison is the best place to kill somebody. Confined area with loads of lifers who are ready to commit another murder for the cause.”
These MC's were smarter than I thought. I expected some low-level gang shit but not intricate plans. I was used to gangs shooting at each other until they ran out of bullets.
“The only one who could have done this was Sawyer Taylor,” I announced.
“He's the...uh...new president of the Rabid Dog MC,” Moore chimed in.
“Want us to pick him up and bring him to the station?” Johnson asked.
I shook my head. “No, I'll take care of it myself.”
Johnson and Moore left me alone with the body. I kneeled down and stared at him for awhile. I knew that I wouldn't be able to pin the crime on Sawyer Taylor so bringing him in would do nothing. He wasn't the one who pulled the trigger. But maybe the team on the roof would find something? Get me the true killer.