Drop Dead Sexy

When I handed her the paperwork, she stared at it absently for a moment. Once again, tears began streaming down her cheeks. Tentatively, I reached out my hand to pat her shoulder. One of the first lessons I’d learned about the bereaved was not all people want to be touched.

But apparently Patricia wanted it. The next thing I knew she dove into my arms and began weeping inconsolably. It took a few moments to get my bearings since it was the first time I’d had a naked woman pressed against me. But any embarrassment I might’ve felt melted away, and all I could do was focus on giving comfort to Patricia. After all, she’d lost the love of her life unexpectedly and violently.

“Maybe you should get Barry,” I whispered to Catcher.

He nodded before shooting off the couch. Like a mother with her child, I rocked Patricia back and forth, speaking soothing words of comfort. Catcher returned with Barry, and he sat on the other side of Patricia on the couch.

“Patty? I’m here, sweetie,” he said.

His voice seemed to cut through Patricia’s storm of grief. She pulled away from me. Swiping her cheeks, she gave me an embarrassed smile. “I’m so sorry for falling apart like that.”

“Please don’t apologize. It’s totally understandable given the news about Randy.”

“You’re very kind.” She inhaled and exhaled a few deep breaths and then pulled her shoulders back. “I think I’m able to do the paperwork now.”

I pointed to the paper on the table in front of us. “Just sign this.” Once she scribbled her name across the form, I took the papers back. “Thank you.”

Patricia glanced from me to Catcher. “You will find who did this, won’t you?” Her chin trembled a bit, and I feared she might start crying again.

He gave a firm nod of his head. “Yes ma’am. We sure will.”

“Good.”

She rose off the couch and gave us a weak smile. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to head back home. I need some time to process all this. And either a glass of wine or a Xanax.”

Catcher and I stood up. “Of course. As soon as we know anything, we’ll let you know,” Catcher replied.

“I’ll appreciate that.” After shaking our hands, Patricia let Barry lead her down the hallway and out of the clubhouse.

When Catcher continued to stare thoughtfully after her, I asked, “You don’t think she’s hiding anything, do you?”

He shook his head. “No. She gave us all she had.”

“Then why the stare down?”

A mischievous glint burned in his eyes. “I was just trying to imagine her, Randy, and King and Kong getting it on.”

“You’re disgusting,” I replied, as I shoved my paperwork back in my bag.

“Oh come on. Don’t tell me you weren’t wondering about them?”

I slung my bag over my shoulder. “No. My mind isn’t that warped.” The truth was the thought had gone through my mind when Patricia was talking about how King and Kong were just too much for her.

Catcher grinned. “You’re lying, Liv.”

Once again, I wanted to throttle him and his special agent training. “Fine. Maybe I entertained the thought.”

He laughed. “It’s a hell of a thought to entertain. I’m pretty sure that today will go down as the craziest case I’ve ever worked on.”

“I’m pretty sure I would have to agree with you,” I said, as the naked bellhop held the doors open for us.

As we started to the car, Catcher asked, “Before King and Kong, just exactly what was the craziest thing you’ve ever seen on a case?”

I tilted my head in thought. “Probably when I was in undergrad at UGA and shadowing the Clarke County coroner.” I opened the car door and tossed my bag inside.

“So what happened?” Catcher asked as he placed his elbows on the top of the car.

“We receive a homicide call to an apartment complex. When we get there, we find a male and female deceased in the bed. Blood is everywhere. It literally looks like that scene in The Shining when the elevator doors open, and blood comes flooding out.”

“Jesus,” Catcher muttered.

“Anyway, the bodies both have exit gunshot wounds, but for the life of the investigators, they can’t find an entrance wound on the bodies. And I don’t where the hell it came from, but suddenly, an idea pops in my head. Before I can stop myself, I blurt out, “Check their assholes.”

Catcher snorted. “You did?”

I grinned. “Yeah, I did. A quick peek between the cheeks, and it turned out I was right. The murderer had stuck the barrel of the shotgun up their ass before shooting them.”

With a wince, Catcher said, “That’s one sick fucker.”

“Turns out it was the woman’s jealous husband. He came home from a hunting trip and found his wife and best friend screwing. He just snapped.” I dropped down into the seat, and Catcher followed.

After he cranked up, he turned to me. “And I thought my goat-fucking story was wild.”