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Wales chuckled with just a touch of bitter humor that Faith knew would become far more than a touch with a few more years under his belt. “Just about fifteen months,” he said. “That was my first dead body.”
“It gets easier,” Michael said with a more advanced undertone of bitter humor.
Colton nodded. “Well, you asked what happened, so from the top. Nine-one-one received a call from a very distressed Kylie Bonaparte at six minutes to two in the afternoon yesterday. Officer Park and I responded to discover the young lady in significant distress over her discovery of one Chester McIlhenny, sixty-four, who was murdered and left on the park bench sometime before the hour of six a.m. that morning. We’re currently waiting on the security footage from the Metro Authority to determine the exact time he was left here.”
“We’ll see if we can put some pressure on them for you,” Michael said.
“We’d appreciate that,” Colton said. “Although at this point, it’s more for you than for me.”
“When you arrived at the scene,” Faith said, “was the scene already contaminated?”
“Oh yeah,” Colton replied. “There was a whole crowd around the body and security was having a hard enough time keeping people from touching it.”
“Can you tell me the names of the security officers who responded?” Faith asked.
“I’m afraid not,” Colton replied, lowering his eyes. “I—this was my first dead body, and I was focused on securing the scene. I’m afraid I didn’t get any witness contact information other than Miss Bonaparte.”
“Don’t beat yourself up too badly, kid,” Michael said. “The first one’s always tough. I’ll follow up with the manager to determine who was on duty that morning.”
“When the scene was secure,” Faith continued, “did you perform the initial examination of the scene?”
“No ma’am,” Wales said. “I called it in, and they instructed me to wait for CSI.”
“We’ll talk to them next,” Faith said. “Anything you noticed at all unusual?”
“Not really,” Officer Wales said, somewhat glumly. “I just called the scene in.”
“No marks, no unusual clothing.”
“Well, his entire outfit was unusual,” Colton said. “Trench coat, hat, sunglasses that looked like they came from a fifties movie.” He cocked his head and said, “Come to think of it, I did notice something unusual. His clothing looked new. Like, brand new.”
Faith exchanged a glance with Michael. If the clothing was brand new, odds were that the killer had bought them to stage McIlhenny.
“Any idea what the brands were?”
“Not a clue,” Colton replied. “I’m not exactly the most fashionable person in the world. The coroner should have all that information. I can give you the address and phone number.”
“We’ll take that,” Faith said. “Also the contact info for Miss Bonaparte.”
Colton provided them the info, and Faith thanked him. Before he left, Michael said, “Hey kid, take it from someone who knows, go get your head checked. No one likes a psych eval, but I’m telling you you’ll be better off for it.”
Faith’s lips tightened slightly at the advice, but she kept silent. Michael was only offering helpful advice to a young officer, not attacking her. Besides, she was seeing Doctor West now.
Colton nodded and said, “Will do. Thank you.”
After he left, Michael asked Faith, “You think he’ll go see a shrink?”
Faith sighed, “Probably not. He’ll talk to Rameses about it, and Rameses will probably tell him not to waste his time on that. He’ll listen to Rameses. Younger guys idolize experienced detectives.”
“Is that why you resisted for so long?”
Now, he was attacking her.
She sighed. “Do you want to fight right now, Michael?”
“No,” he said. “No fighting. Sorry I brought it up.”
“It’s fine,” Faith said. “Let’s call Miss Bonaparte?”
