stairs. “You’re lookin’ perky today.”
“Hi, Savannah,” Dr. Liu returned warmly. “Haven’t seen you lately. You haven’t dropped by with a box of Godivas in a long time.”
Savannah chuckled. It was true. More than once, when she was anxious to get autopsy results, she had taken a box of truffles to the morgue under the pretext of “PMS bonding.”
Dr. Liu was far too sharp to believe that the offerings were anything more than an excuse to drop by and finagle information before the coroner’s report was complete. But she was also smart enough not to admit she was being bribed.
Savannah would do anything to learn the official cause and manner of death three hours before the murder was even committed. And if five pounds of chocolate enabled her to make a pest out of herself and get the jump on a case, she wasn’t above it.
Besides, Dr. Liu usually shared the goodies, and that was endearing.
“Sergeant Coulter,” the coroner said, giving Dirk a cursory nod.
Dirk was as much of a nuisance at the morgue as Savannah, even worse. And he never brought chocolate, so he was low on Dr. Liu’s list of favorite people.
They never brought out the best in each other.
“The DB’s down there,” Dirk told her, pointing down the stairs and to the right. “You need me to go with you and help you find it?”
She gave him a withering look. “I can find one stray blond hair on a brunette victim or a single carpet fiber and match it to a killer’s car trunk. I think I can find a dead woman on a beach.”
“Then she’s all yours,” Dirk said, brushing by her and continuing on up the stairs.
He passed a couple of young men, also wearing white lab coats with the coroner’s seal printed on the pockets, who were on their way down. He grunted a half greeting to them as he hurried by. They nearly fell off the steps trying to get out of his way.
“Mr. Sunshine and Light,” Dr. Liu grumbled as she watched him go. “I don’t know how you stand him.”
“Ah, Dirk’s all right,” Savannah said, thinking that, sometimes, it felt like she spent her life trying to convince people that Dirk really was a good person. After all, any guy who liked dogs, cats, and Elvis couldn’t be all bad. “You just have to get to know him,” she added for good measure.
“No, thanks.” Dr. Liu gave Savannah a smile. “Putting up with him, that’s your job. And mine is waiting on the beach, so … I’ll see you later.”
“How long you figure it’ll take you to process her?” Savannah asked as Dr. Liu continued down the stairs.
“We’re a little backed up. I should be done with the autopsy by tomorrow around lunch time.” When she reached the bottom step, she leaned over and took her high heels off.
Too bad Dirk had missed it, Savannah thought. He was a major hiney man.
“So, if you’ll be done by noon,” Savannah said, “I’ll show up at ten … and bring chocolates?”
“Exactly.” Dr. Liu stuffed the stilettos into her bag and stepped onto the sand with bare feet, he oenails painted bright red. “And this time, don’t eat any of the raspberry creams. Those are my favorites.”
When Savannah reached the top of the stairs, she looked around for Dirk. He was standing at the edge of the yard, where the lawn ended abruptly, giving way to the sharp cliff.
He was staring down at a flower bed that was overflowing with yellow marigolds and orange nasturtiums.
“See something?” she asked as she walked up to stand beside him.
So lost in thought was he that he jumped a little when he noticed her. “What?”
“You’re looking at something. What is it?”
“Why doesn’t she like me?” he asked, looking a little hurt.
“Why doesn’t who … what?”
“Why doesn’t Dr. Liu like me? I’ve always been nice to her.”
“You’ve never been nice to her. Not once.”
“Never? Ever?” He looked completely flummoxed. “Really?”
“Really. You snap at her. You’re surly with her. You demand that she come up with results in the blink of an eye and solve your cases for you. You—”
“So do you.”
“Yeah, but I genuinely like her.”
“So do I.”
“You like her legs.”
“I never noticed her legs.” He grinned broadly. “I’m always too busy looking at her rear.”
Savannah sighed and pointed to the flower bed. “What’s here? What were you looking at?”
But before he could even answer, she saw it … the area where the marigolds and nasturtiums were crushed, the soil trampled with numerous footprints.
She stepped closer and squatted, studying the dirt and flowers. “There was a struggle here. And those are fresh,” she said. “The broken plants are barely even withered. And the footprints are clear, nice and deep.”
“Yeah, I’ll have to tell Dr. Liu to have her lazy-ass assistants get up here and get some castings of those to—”
Savannah cleared her throat.
“Um …” He donned a saccharine smile. “… I mean, ask the CSU if they would be so kind as to get their lazy butts up here and take some castings of those prints, and then get the results to me whenever they damned well feel like it.”
“Oh, much better.” She rolled her eyes. “It’s a beautiful thing—watching personal growth in progress.”
“What?”
“Never mind.” Leaning down, until her face was nearly touching the flowers, she saw something strange sticking out of the loose soil. It was about six inches wide and looked like a gray butterfly’s wing.
With one finger she pushed some of the nasturtiums aside and saw that it was attached to a fairy … or rather, a broken fairy statue, about a foot long, that was half-buried in the dirt.
“You’ll want to tell the team about this,” she said, pointing it out to him. “That thing looks heavy enough that it might even be your murder weapon.”
He studied it with interest and nodded. “Yeap, that would be a first in my career. ‘Cause of Death: Bludgeoned by a Tinkerbell.’ ”
She stood up and shook her legs to restore circulation.
Squatting in your forties wasn’t what it was in your twenties.
“And, by the way,” she said. “Those are high-heel prints … the little holes there in the dirt.”
“Yeah, I noticed that already.”
“And Mrs. Wellman had dark soil like that on the heels of her shoes.”
“Yeap. Saw it.”
She bit her bottom lip and stared at him long and hard. “And the blood? You also saw the blood stain on her left heel?”
She had him. He glared at her, slack-jawed for several long moments. She watched the mental battle register in his eyes. Lie? Or tell the truth?
Finally, with his best poker face and most even, noncommittal tone, he said, “Blood. Blood on her left heel.”
“Yeap.”
More tense silence.
He broke. “You saw blood on her left heel?”
“Naw.” She