Fixin' To Die (A Kenni Lowry Mystery Book 1) by Tonya Kappes Page B

up.
    “Did you see…” I jumped around and pointed to the door and then back to where I was standing. “Was someone…”
    I wanted to ask if he had seen someone behind me, but I knew no one else was there. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Seeing Doc Walton’s corpse was playing a number on my senses.
    “Are you okay?” Max glanced over Doc Walton at me.
    “I’m fine.” I turned to the metal tray table next to me and grabbed a couple of gloves from the box.
    “Some people aren’t good around dead people. Trust me, it’s not only you.” Max’s voice was calming.
    I turned back around and gave him a kind smile.
    “I’m fine.” I forced my eyes down to the corpse. “Now, tell me what you discovered.”
    “This.” He turned over Doc’s wrist, where there was some sort of tattoo.
    “Who knew he was such a rebel?” I tried to make a joke out of it, not successfully.
    “It’s not a tat. It’s Sharpie marker. On his right wrist.” He used a pointer to point to Doc’s other hand. “Ronald has never been able to write properly with his left hand, nor deal a good hand in poker, because the tip is gone off the pointer finger. He was right-handed.” He dragged the pointer over to the Sharpie design. “This is intricate detail Ronald could’ve never done with his left hand. Plus, when I swipe it, parts of it rub off easily because it’s not been there long.”
    The design written in Sharpie on Doc’s wrist reminded me of something. Then it hit me like a ton of bricks.
    White’s Jewelry, I thought to myself.
    “White’s Jewelry,” a soft and gentle voice spoke back.
    My head shifted side to side. “I’m sorry.” I leaned a little over Doc’s body. “Did you say White’s Jewelry?”
    “No.” Max’s brows furrowed. “I said there is no way—”
    “Yeah, yeah.” I waved him off. “I heard you say that, but you didn’t say anything about the jewelry store? And the break-in?”
    “No.”
    “You don’t know.” I gasped. “You’ve been down here all morning.” I gestured to the autopsy room. “White’s Jewelry was broken into before Polly Parker opened up for Viola White and this exact same symbol was spray-painted on the carpet behind the glass counter.”
    Somehow Doc Walton’s murder and the White’s Jewelry theft were related, and the killer wanted me to know.
    “I even took pictures of it but I left my bag out in the truck.” I held a finger up. “I’ll be right back.”
    A clear glass jar full of Band-Aids was sitting on the counter on my way out of the autopsy. I lifted the lid off.
    “You don’t mind if I use one, do you?” I asked, peeling the gloves off of my hands.
    “No, take what you need.” Max was bent over with a magnifier stuck on his goggles taking a good look at the Sharpie tattoo.
    Walking out to the truck, I ripped the Band-Aid open and made it tight around my finger like my mother used to do when I was a child. Oh, how I missed those days.
    Follow your instincts. The whisper filled my head. My heart sank and I took a few quick breaths.
    I grabbed my bag, taking it back inside.
    “I swear it’s the same symbol from White’s,” I said as I rushed back into the autopsy room, where Max was still hunkered over the corpse.
    I sat my bag on the counter, deliberately keeping my back turned, not facing the procedure until I heard some clicking noises.
    “What are you doing?” I asked, looking at Max, who was holding a fancy digital SLR camera.
    His hand was placed on the lens, rotating it left and right, clicking with the other. He would squat, stand, and move around the body like he was a photographer on the set of America’s Next Top Model and Doc Walton was the model.
    “I have to take pictures of everything.” He didn’t miss an angle. His finger continued to snap away. “It’s part of the procedure. Especially in a murder investigation.”
    It might be sick, but for the first time today, I felt a little better. Taking any more pictures