It took me a while to get things going, alas. Kids and homework and whatnot. Well, that and the minor detail that most of the online people I know today are so stressed they’re vibrating, which is making me vibrate in sympathy.
Graciella looked at the scene with a certain ghoulish (or just teenage) interest. “Wow,” she said. “Whoever did this must be drenched in blood right now.”
“Mmm-hmm,” I said absently as I peered at the body. I’m not St. Holmes, but it never hurts to take a look at a scene. Good practice, if nothing else. Speaking of: “Why don’t you take another look, Graciella, and tell me why the killer’s not?”
Teenagers don’t like to be told when they’re wrong, but she managed to squash any dirty looks and instead gave the scene another once-over. After a minute she said, “Oh. Not many splatters.”
“Or clouds of flies,” I replied. “There’s a lot of blood in a body, and when it leaks, it can get everywhere. See the throat?” I pointed. “That got cut after the poor bastard died. Maybe some of the gut shots, too. Hell, maybe the guy didn’t die from a knife wound at all. He’d still bleed afterward, and it’d look more like this.”
I stood up. “Well, I’ll tell the cops when they show up. Then they can pretend to be happy I’m doing their job for ‘em.”
Graciella frowned. “So we’re not investigating the murder?”
“Not yet. Maybe never. We’re here for Cases, Graciella. So far this is just a weird murder in an alley. oh, hey, here’s the cops now.”