When had they first noticed the smell?
That, too, was hard to determine, because the scent of death had lingered about the house itself after Cutter had died.
“Kelsey, I’ve called for the medical examiner. He’ll be here—soon.”
Before he said the last word, he heard the sound of the police sirens. The medical examiner would be there in minutes, along with a crime-scene unit to gather whatever clues they might.
He wasn’t sure if there was anything at all a crime-scene unit might gather. He tried to remember how much rain there had been in the last few days. It wasn’t summer, so the rain hadn’t been constant, but they’d had a shower here and there. Footprints? Had the corpse been here during the barbecue? Yes, probably. It had been fresh then, though, hidden by the mangroves, roots and brush; he had found it this morning because he had been looking for a dead animal.
“Kelsey, please, go back inside. Maybe you could make a really big pot of coffee. I’m sure that it will be greatly appreciated. I think there are still a lot of paper coffee cups left over from the other day.” He was accustomed to crime scenes. He knew that he was speaking calmly.
He winced at the way she was staring at the corpse.
“Kelsey!” He snapped her name.
She looked at him at last, her blue eyes wide with empathy and horror.
She cleared her throat. “Oh, God, Liam, who is it?”
He shook his head. “Kelsey, I have no idea. I believe that the medical examiner is going to have to give us an ID.”
“But it’s not—”
“I don’t think it can be anyone we know well, Kelsey. We saw everyone last night, remember?”
She nodded, still frozen in place.
The first of the cars he had called were coming down the drive in front of the house.
“Kelsey, coffee? Please. And then go on, get ready. We have Cutter’s funeral today.”
She turned at last and went walking stiffly toward the house. He could see a few of the officers from the crime-scene unit moving toward him along with a few of the uniformed officers, armed with their crime-scene tape.
Behind them came Franklin Valaski, followed by two of his assistants bearing the body bag and stretcher that would shortly be needed.
“That’s my path,” Liam said, pointing to the direct line he had taken from the lawn and the rear of the house through the marsh.
Valaski snorted. “Like there are going to be footprints!”
Beth Ingram and Lee Houston from the crime-scene unit shrugged. “This is…this isn’t promising,” Beth told him.
“I know. See if you can find anything. Valaski, come on through.”
He stepped back as Valaski moved in to see the body. He swore softly. “Jeez, Liam, think you could find ’em for me when they’re a little fresher?”
“Think you can tell me time of death?”
Valaski stared at him, and then hunkered down by the corpse. He muttered beneath his breath again, shook his head, reached almost blindly for his bag and got a mask and gloves.
“Any clue as to how he died?” Liam asked.
“You mean you didn’t check for a pulse?” Valaski asked dryly.
“I left him in situ for you.”
“I could check for petechial hemorrhaging—oh, wait, no, I can’t. I’m sorry, there are no eyes.”
“Good Lord, Franklin—”
“Sorry! I’m sorry. But this poor boy… I’m not seeing a gunshot wound. It might have been strangulation. I need to get him back to the morgue, that’s all there is to it. I can’t tell you much of anything until we get him out of here and cleaned up. I’m sorry, Liam,” Valaski said.
His hands were gloved; he wore high galoshes, having known he was headed into the marsh. He had on his huge magnifying glasses, the mask over his nose and mouth. He did a cursory inspection of the body, and then seemed to freeze.
He looked at Liam.
“What?” Liam asked.
“I can’t give you much info on how and when he died yet, but…”
“But?”
“I can tell you who he is.”
Liam was startled. “Who?”
Valaski waved a hand toward him to come around and hunker down as well. Mercifully, he offered him a mask.
Valaski pointed at markings on the blackened T-shirt the man was wearing.
Liam had definitely seen the shirt before. Even as he stared at it through the stains of marsh water and body fluids, he saw the emblem on it more clearly defined. There was a bird with flapping wings, a large bird, and White in cursive over the emblem.
It was Gary White, Key West’s own part-time musician.
The man who had been trying to break into the place with Chris Vargas just a week ago.
Now dead and decaying at the Merlin house.
Kelsey paced in the kitchen, drinking a third cup of coffee and glancing at her watch. She had to be at Cutter’s funeral soon. It wouldn’t be right for the deceased’s granddaughter to be late.