“Just confirming that there are no bullet holes and that he’s not lying on a knife,” Ron said, flicking a bug from the deceased’s chest with his pen, which he then casually placed back in the inside breast pocket of his suit jacket.
Mike turned away in disgust.
“Is your Sergeant Spackman around?” Ron asked McAfee, disregarding Mike.
“He’s over there, sir. Want me to call him on the radio for you?”
“No, that’s okay. We’ll walk over. I’m sure some of the neighbours have come out to have a look. Did you get their names?”
“Yes, sir.” McAfee fumbled for his memo book.
“That’s okay, Preston. I don’t need them now. Someone will talk to them later. But tell the guys to let us know if anyone saw or heard anything of importance. If that’s the case, my partner and I will interview them ASAP. Go
