The Stories of the Wild One (continued)

The first he had almost casually discarded it, glancing only briefly at it. It was not until they had found the dead man at the upscale house that the sergeant had seemed to actually read what was printed on the sheets. John remembered the sergeant’s puzzled expression, and then his sudden, urgent reaction.

John was certain that the sergeant had expected to find a snake in the bag delivered to the dead woman at the office complex’s bag—sure enough so that he was willing to involve Animal Control. Once the bag had been proven to be empty, the sergeant had immediately called it a homicide.

And then the same thing at the apartment last night.

So the sergeant clearly saw the pattern.

But what did those sheets say?

If they were already secured as evidence, then John knew that there was little chance that he would be allowed to see them.

Would they let my attorney see them?

Possibly, he decided, but the problem with that idea was that he had never actually been charged with anything. He had only been questioned and then released.

“Damn,” he swore softly, rubbing his closely shaven head with the towel. “I should have thought of that last night.”

He then pondered whether it would have been worth the several hundred dollars it would have cost him just to satisfy his curiosity.