'In the forehead, just above the right eyebrow,' Becker said. 'Photo guys are already done-you want to see?'
'Yes.'
Becker had on thin plastic crime scene gloves. He reached down and turned Clive's head. There was a small black hole above his eyebrow, the flesh around it a little puffy and discolored from the entry of the slug.
'No exit wound,' I said.
'That's right.'
'Small caliber,' I said.
'Looks like a.22 to me.'
'Yes.'
'Figure he caught the horse shooter in the act?' Becker said.
'Be the logical conclusion,' I said.
'Yep. It would.'
'Where was Security South during all this?' I said. 'Busy polishing their belt buckles?'
'Security guy was in with the horse,' Becker said.
'Hugger Mugger.'
'Yeah. When I say the horse, that's who I mean. He heard the shot, and came out, ah, carefully, and looked around and didn't see anything, and went back inside with the horse.'
'It was raining,' I said.
'All night.'
'How far out you figure he came?'
'His uni was dry when I talked to him,' Becker said.
'No wrinkles?'
'Nope.'
'Probably didn't want to be lured away from the horse.'
'Hugger Mugger,' Becker said.
I looked at him. He was expressionless.
'Of course Hugger Mugger,' I said. 'What other horse are we talking about?'
Becker grinned.
'So nobody sees anything. Nobody but the guard hears anything,' Becker said. 'We're looking for footprints, but it's been raining hard since yesterday afternoon.'
'Crime scene isn't going to give you much,' I said.
'You Yankees are so pessimistic.'
'Puritan heritage,' I said. 'The family's been told?'
'Yep. Told them myself.'
'How were they?'
'Usual shock and dismay,' Becker said.
'Anything unusual?'
Becker shook his head.
'You been a cop,' he said. 'You've had to tell people that somebody's been murdered, what would be unusual?'
'You're right,' I said. 'I've seen every reaction there is. Delroy been around?'
'Not yet,' Becker said.
We were quiet for a while, standing in the rain, partly sheltered by the tree, looking at how dead Walter Clive was.
'Why'd you call me?' I said.
'Two heads are better than one,' Becker said.
'Depends on the heads,' I said.
'In this case yours and mine,' Becker said. 'You been a big-city cop, you might know something.'
I nodded.
'Between us,' Becker said, 'we might figure something out.'
I nodded some more. The rain kept coming. Walter Clive kept lying there. Behind us a van with Columbia County Medical Examiner lettered on the side pulled up and two guys in raincoats got out and opened up the back.
