Lieutenant Capshaw arrived a short time later, accompanied by a patrolman. There was no mistaking his tall, gaunt form, or his habit of walking with a slight stoop, as if continually checking for a clue he may have missed.
He gave Concordia a melancholy look of disapproval beneath bushy red-haired brows. “Another body, miss? I thought once you married, we’d be finished with such things.”
“I am not married yet, lieutenant,” she retorted. Not that finding bodies was an occupation of hers, though to be fair it had happened with some frequency over the past couple of years.
Did Capshaw’s lips twitch beneath his capacious mustache, or was it her imagination?
Sanbourne arrived, flushed and out of breath. “Clyde just told me.”
“Who are you, sir?” Capshaw asked.
The man gave Capshaw a disdai
