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“Yes. Why?”
“I feel like the gunshot wound is just a cover.”
She walked out of the stall and fastened me with a look. “Cover for what?”
“Easy.” Jimmy followed my train of thought, like he always could. “Drug mule.”
“Yeah, makes sense, right?”
“It does.”
“I’m not following,” Benoit complained.
“Think about it,” I said, eyeing him. “What scenario would put Polley in this restroom?”
Everyone stared at me in silence.
“He was hooking up,” Benoit offered. “That would explain the door being open.”
“What?” I squinted at him. “No. The door would be closed.”
“Yeah,” Cohen seconded. “You close the door when you hook up in a bathroom.”
“Everybody knows that,” Jimmy said, scowling at her, the judgement in his voice.
“You both said,” I directed at Cohen and Benoit, “that the girlfriend was off with someone else, and we have no reports of him with anyone else. Is that correct?”
They both nodded.
“So we can assume he wasn’t hooking up with anyone, because if he was, he would be doing his fucking in the women’s restroom.”
“Hey, that’s sex—”
“It is not sexist,” I cut her off. “There are more stalls in the women’s restroom.”
Deena chuckled. “He’s got you there.”
“We’re assuming, then, there’s no sex, but the door is open,” Jimmy went on. “Because someone is there to watch and collect.”
“He picks someplace he thinks is safe––”
“And public,” Jimmy chimed in.
I pointed at him. “Yep, and public. Then he takes the fuckin’ laxative and whoever it was that wanted to see him pull the balloons out of his ass shows up.”
“They need to make sure he doesn’t fuck with anything,” Jimmy offered.
“Or skim,” I added. “They wanna know that whatever they’re supposed to get is all there.”
“What you’re telling me is that we’re going to need the contents of the bowl as well,” Deena said with a sigh, her gaze dropping to the toilet.
“Yes, ma’am,” I said cheerfully.
Jimmy grinned at me.
“I thought homicide was supposed to be glamorous,” Benoit grumbled.
“No, that’s vice,” I assured him. “They have theme music and flashy cars.”
