Stolen Prey

in your dreams.” He tipped his head toward the dumpster. The body was still folded inside, but had been partially unwrapped.
    Lucas looked in, winced, turned back to Morris and said, “Same guys.”
    “Yeah, I thought maybe. I saw all that stuff on TV. They cut his fingers off at the joints, and the pieces are rolling around like unchewed chunks of Dubble Bubble gum.”
    “Nice simile,” Lucas said. “Kinda literary.”
    “I’m a literary kind of guy, but … who’re
these
people?” Morris was looking back over Lucas’s shoulder.
    Lucas turned and saw Rivera and Martínez walking up to the crime-scene line. He shouted down to the cop,
“Let them in,”
and said to Morris, “Mexican cops. They’re up here to observe, see what they can pick up.”
    Rivera walked up, looking unsettled: a kind of after-sex look, and Lucas glanced at Martínez, who looked a little glassy herself, and thought,
Hmm
. Rivera had told him he was married to a nice hometown girl.
    Rivera said, “Thank you for the call,” and Lucas introduced him to Morris. Rivera looked in the dumpster, then called Martínez up with a crook of his finger, and they both looked in for a moment. Then Martínez turned to Morris and said, “This is the Agua Prieta group. The same people.”
    “Mexicans?” Morris asked.
    Rivera nodded and said, “Yes. We think somebody robbed oneof their drug laundries, and they are either trying to get their money back, or are on a punishment mission.”
    “Well, hell. I am definitely nonplussed,” Morris said.
    “As we all are,” Lucas said. “Let’s find a place to sit down, and we’ll fill you in.”
    “One thing,” Morris said. “We found a clue.”
    “Really?”
    “Yeah. Really. C’mere.” He led the way to his car, opened the door, took out a big plastic bag. “This was inside the wrapper right by the face. It’s a napkin with a smear of blood on it, and what smells like a little dog shit.”
    “Dog shit?” Lucas, Rivera, and Martínez were looking through the transparent plastic.
    “The body was found when a woman opened the dumpster to throw in a bag of dog shit. I guess they all go around picking up dog shit in this neighborhood,” Morris said. “Anyway, she threw it in, and it landed on the head part … but when we unwrapped, we found this. Looks like somebody used it to wipe up some blood or something. It’s a napkin from Zapp’s.”
    Lucas said, “Jesus, it
is
. It’s like a
clue
. Like somebody dropped a matchbook from a bar.”
    “Whatever,” Morris said. “Anyway, the crime-scene guys are gonna work this, and I’m gonna run over to Zapp’s. You’re welcome to come, if you want. It’s as much your case as mine.”
    Lucas was in Zapp’s every month or so. He looked at his watch. “Not open yet.”
    “I called John Sappolini, he’s gonna meet us there. He’s calling his crews in.”
    “Let’s go,” Lucas said.
    M ORRIS RODE OVER with Lucas, and Lucas filled him in on the murders in Wayzata. “I’ll send you the book. But it’s the same guys.”
    “I don’t want that shit starting up here,” Morris said.
    “I hear you,” Lucas said.
    Shaffer called, Lucas told him about Pruess, and Shaffer said he’d be down as soon as he could make it. Lucas gave him Morris’s cell phone number, but didn’t mention that he was riding along.
    When he got off, Morris said, “I wish I wasn’t gonna be working with him.”
    “Something personal?”
    “Just style. He’s one of those ball-bearing guys, who goes ricocheting around banging into people,” Morris said. “He’s got no sense of humor. No style.”
    “He’s sort of a cowboy guy,” Lucas said. “He and his wife used to teach line dancing. They came down to the office a few times and gave lessons to guys who wanted them, and their wives. Everybody was wearing cowboy boots.”
    “Now, see, that’s something I didn’t know,” Morris said. “I can’t believe that guy can dance. Not that line dancing is really dancing.”
    “Of course it is, and it’s very romantic,” Lucas said. “I actually got addicted to it, for a while.”
    Morris bit: “Really? I never would’ve thought you were that kind of guy.”
    Lucas nodded. “Got so bad my shrink put me in a two-step program.”
    M ORRIS TRIED not to laugh, but finally let it out, and they laughed for a block or two, until Lucas’s cell phone rang. He looked at the screen: Virgil Flowers.
    “What’s up?” Lucas asked.
    “Got a