The Book of Death (Bourbon Kid 4)

Sanchez turned off the siren
and sped off again. He nudged Jessica who was sat shaking her head in
disapproval in the passenger seat.
    ‘Pretty funny, huh?’ he said.
    ‘Hilarious. How about just
getting us to the crime scene now though, huh?’
    ‘Yeah, good idea. Shout if you
see any more old people though. Or young children for that matter. Or cats.’
    Jessica let out a deep sigh.
‘You know, Sanchez, it’s times like this when I wonder how it is that you’re
single. You’re a real catch.’
    ‘Yeah, well,’ he said
straightening his sunglasses. ‘While I’ve been nursing you out of a coma for
the last few months I haven’t had time for anyone else.’
    ‘That’s too bad.’
    ‘I’ll tell you what else is too
bad. Did you know that your old boyfriend Jefe got shot in the face during the
eclipse last year?’
    ‘Oh, did he?’
    ‘Yeah, he must be gutted.’
    ‘He can’t be gutted if he’s
dead.’
    ‘I would be.’
    ‘Whatever.’
      Jessica didn’t seem too bothered about
Jefe’s death . That’s what being in a coma for months will do to you ,
thought Sanchez. This was most definitely an opportunity to put forward his own
case. ‘So, I guess with Jefe dead, it means you’re single too? Maybe we should
go out on a date?’
      Jessica stared out of her passenger side
window. ‘Can we talk about something else?’ she said.
    ‘If you like.’
    Sanchez hit the brakes as they
approached a red light. The car skidded a few times before eventually stopping
just before the lights. He looked over at Jessica. She was still staring out of
the window at the snow. ‘I wonder what this crime scene will look like when we
get there,’ he mused.
    ‘Bloody, probably,’ said
Jessica. ‘If it really is the Silvinho that I know then it’ll be messy. He’s no
fool. Not many people in this town could have killed him.’
    The traffic lights turned green and
Sanchez pulled away, driving with a little more care this time. ‘So how do you
know this Silvinho guy anyway?’ he asked. ‘And who would want to kill him?’
    ‘The Bourbon Kid.’
    ‘You think?’
    ‘Yeah,’ Jessica pointed at the
road up ahead. ‘We’re nearly there. I can see an ambulance parked outside that
building. That must be it.’
    Sanchez looked to where Jessica
was pointing. Sure enough, a hundred yards down the road was an ambulance with
its blue lights flashing. There was a crowd of people on the street outside the
building, even though it was snowing outside.
    ‘Where the hell am I gonna
park?’ Sanchez muttered aloud, looking for a space.
    ‘Over there,’ said Jessica
pointing at a space on the opposite side of the road to the ambulance.
    ‘Good spot,’ said Sanchez.
‘Right outside the Dirty Donut shop too.’
    He pulled the car over and in
spite of the front wheel riding up onto the sidewalk briefly, he slipped it
into the space just fine.
    Jessica was quick to open the
passenger side door. ‘Why don’t you grab us some donuts?’ she suggested as she
climbed out. ‘I’ll head up to this Beth Lansbury’s apartment and make sure the
coast is clear. You might spot the killer escaping while you’re buying the
donuts.’
    ‘Great idea,’ said Sanchez,
pleased that she had made the suggestion. ‘Any particular donut you’d like?’
    ‘Surprise me.’
    Sanchez climbed out of the car,
grateful to be wearing his new Stetson hat, which did a great job of sheltering
him from the snow, which was at last showing signs of easing up. By the time
he’d stepped onto the sidewalk, Jessica had vanished. She obviously didn’t feel
like hanging around outside in the cold weather.
    The ambulance outside Remington
Tower had quite a crowd around it, yet the medics themselves were nowhere to be
seen. There was another police squad car parked further down the road too,
which was a relief. It would mean Sanchez wasn’t the first officer on the scene
and therefore the potential for fucking up a crime scene was limited. Anyhow,
more importantly, he had to work out how many donuts he could afford.
    The guy in the donut shop looked
like he enjoyed a cake or two himself. And a lot of beer and pizza too. He was
a short, rotund fellow with a curly brown mullet haircut. His stained white
DIRTY DONUTS T-shirt fitted so tightly to his curves it looked as if it had
been tattooed on. Clearly this guy was eating the profits.
    ‘Got any special offers on?’
Sanchez asked as he approached the counter.
    ‘I recommend the Fat Boy