“Yeah, the case load at the office has been heavy lately. I better make time to get in better shape. Can’t be seen dragging ass behind the old man.”
Sloan laughed and patted Alex on the back then picked up speed and tried to blow past Alex.
“Hey,” Alex said, “slow down, hotshot.”
Sloan slowed down. “That was all the sprint I had in me. I’m slowing down.”
“Tell the truth now,” Sloan said, walking beside his father, “aren’t you ready to retire from a part-time danger hunter into being a full-time bartender?”
“I have to think of Cynthia. She kind of likes me being around. Going on dangerous escapades chasing bad guys is starting to worry her more. She’s worried I may have lost a step on the bad guys. They keep getting younger and I don’t. But an occasional safe job from a local lawyer could help break the routine. You know anyone like that?”
“Yeah, one or two. I’ll call next time I get a job that requires a guy like you. I don’t want you to lose your edge and turn dull.”
“Is it true that there’s an old Cuban plane out here?” Alex asked changing subjects, as they rounded a curve in the road. “Heard about it from a guy at the Green Parrot. Said his grandfather flew it in from Cuba to escape Castro’s takeover back in the day.”
“Yup, about half-a-mile up the road. Landed here way back and wasn’t allowed to fly back out. Been sitting there ever since.”
“Hey, what’s that?” Alex asked as they started up a light jog again.
“Looks like a…” he walked over closer to what appeared to be a bright green piece of cloth.
“My, Lord,” Alex said. “She’s dead.”
Sloan shook his head to clear it. “Not again. I seem to be a magnet for dead bodies. A virtual cadaver dog. I’ll call nine-one-one.”
“This is R. Sloan. I’m with my dad, running on Government Road. There’s a body of a woman in the bushes alongside the road.”
“About half a mile from where it intersects with Linda Avenue,” Alex said, “she’s in the clearing made for a utility road.”
Sloan nodded and repeated the location.
“I have a cruiser headed your way. Try to keep clear of the crime scene.”
“Will do.” Sloan pointed to the road and said, “Looks like somebody took off out of here in a hurry.”
Officers McCabe and Springfield took the call.
“We have a report of a dead female on Government Road. Two joggers are at the site. R. Sloan and Alex Sloan.”
“Roger that,” McCabe said, glancing over at Officer Jenney Springfield. “Looks like we have a call. The last few days were quiet. About time something exciting happened,”
A few minutes later the police car pulled up and Officer McCabe stepped out of the driver’s side and a tall blonde stepped out of the other side. She had short but stylish blonde hair, framing her features and giving her a delicate appearance.
“Hey, Sloan, you scored again.” McCabe said.
“Don’t even say it.” Sloan said holding up his hands. “No, I don’t go around looking for dead bodies. They come to me.”
McCabe smiled. “This is Officer Jenny Springfield. She left us several years ago and is back as our newest Officer. Jenny, this is Attorney R. Sloan and his father Alex Sloan.”
“Good to meet you both.” Jenny grinned and shook both their hands.
“What do we have here?” McCabe asked.
“She’s over there, you can see her green dress,” Alex said.
“Okay, we’ll be back. Hang out here for a little while,” McCabe said to Alex and Sloan.
“Sure,” Alex said. He looked over at Sloan and winked. “The police force just got an upgrade.”
Sloan smiled back. “I’ve heard about her. Don’t be misled. She looks sweet and soft, but I’m told she’s hard as nails. Grew up on the streets, literally. A homeless orphan here in the Keys, one of Fitzgerald’s street people who came in from the cold and turned their life around.”
“Happy endings like that don’t happen often on the street,” Alex said.
Sloan nodded.
McCabe and Jenny carefully walked to the body taking photographs of the scene as they went.
“Tire tracks over here,” Jenny said. She took photos.
“She’s gone,” McCabe said, touching the woman’s neck. “Sharkey and Harris are on their way and it looks like the press is here, too. I’ll go talk to them.”
Mckenzie Jones, reporter for the Eye on Key West Newspaper along with her photographer, Arron Connor, pulled to the far side of the road and started walking forward.
“Mckenzie, Connor, you’re up early,” McCabe called out.
“Yeah,” Connor said, “we have this talking alarm clock that tells us what you’re up to.”
“Any idea who it is?” Mckenzie said.
“No. There’s no ID or purse. Sharkey and Harris are on their way and so is the M.E.”
“Okay, we’ll hang out across the street.” They walked across the street and Connor started taking pictures.
Sharkey picked up Harris at his apartment and headed for the crime scene.
“Hell of a way to wake up on the most important day of your life,” Harris grumbled as he entered Sharkey’s car.
“At least it’s not the middle of the night,” Sharkey said. “That rain really dumped last night. We got a dead woman on Government Road.”
“She drowned in the rain?”
“No…” Sharkey said slowly, “but the rain that fell last night may have washed away any clues at the site.”
“Yeah.” Harris was somewhere else.
Sharkey eyed Harris. “What’s so special about today?”
“I proposed to Amy and she accepted. We were going to celebrate today.”
“Wow. Now that’s news. Congratulations.”
“Thanks. I snuck out yesterday after work and met with Camie and she picked out the most
