CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
I pull up beside two patrol cars and an ambulance parked on a side street that borders the Bucket of Blood, a dump on Phoenix's tough south side. The blinking lights on both police cars and the ambulance are like invitations to the area. A couple of uniformed officers have their hands full keeping the one hundred percent Hispanic on-lookers on the far side of the street. The morning dew is still on the field of weeds that stretches behind the club. I pick my way through this jungle, camera in hand. I manage to soak my socks, shoes, and the lower third of my pants before I join big, good-looking Detective Lieutenant Jim Vail.
"What have we got, Jim?"
"Murder One. Come over here."
He leads me through more wet weeds until we come upon the body of an elderly man lying on
