“The family says that Mr. Marchand was on heavy painkillers for an old back injury and arthritis. The theory is that the wereleopard could smell the meds in his body and wouldn’t eat it.”
“Maybe. I have some friends I can call and ask later if they’d smell meds on someone, but I’ll need to know the exact prescriptions.”
“I’ve got it written down. I’ll give you the list.”
“I do know that people poison carcasses to illegally kill lions and other big cats, and they take the bait. People use poison to get rid of rats, mice, moles, and then the local cats eat them and die. I’m not sure a wereleopard would be any different.”
“They found Bobby passed out cold in his bed, nude, covered in blood, but his bed wasn’t as messy as he was.”
“You mean the sheets weren’t stained with blood, just his body?”
“Yeah.”
“Were there bloody handprints, knee prints where he crawled into the bed just before he passed out?”
“No, there weren’t.”
“Well, he didn’t levitate into bed. Even most vampires can’t do that,” I said.
“I know, and also his human body should have been cleaner than that. It was his beast form, which killed the uncle, that should have been drenched in blood, but if he left the area before switching back to human, then the blood should have just been absorbed during the change.”
“Were there bloody footprints leading from the crime scene to the bedroom?” I asked.
“Yes, but there’s something about them that’s off, too.”
“What do you mean, off?”
“I don’t know, but it looks like the foot is a bigger shoe size than Bobby’s. If this was a normal human-on-human murder, there’d be time for forensics to gather evidence and tell me if I’m right, but because it’s a supernatural-on-human crime, they won’t even bother with forensics unless I can make a case for needing them.”
“If this went according to plan, Bobby Marchand would be dead long before the forensics could be processed,” I said.
“I know, and we’re too small an area to have much in the way of forensics. The sheriff would have to ask the state cops for their help with the forensics, and he doesn’t see the need for it.” Newman sounded deeply unhappy about the whole thing.
“Once the warrant of execution arrives, you are duty bound to act on it.”
“I know that, Blake. I know that the only thing that could add to the time limit is if Bobby escapes and we have to hunt him down.”
“That doesn’t add to the time we have to finish a warrant, Newman. The suspect just gains the time it takes for us to hunt him down and execute him.”
“He’s shackled and inside a cell. He’s not going to escape, which is why I called you. I don’t mind executing Bobby Marchand if he lost control and killed his uncle. If he’s that dangerous, then it’s for the best, but I do not want to put a bullet in his brain and then find out that the footprints don’t match, that the blood evidence all over him is wrong for the crime, that . . . It just doesn’t feel right, Blake.”
“That’s why I just flew in the smallest plane I’ve ever been on to come and help you figure out if he did it.”
“The warrant gives me the right to ask for the backup I need,” he said.
“It gives you the right to deputize people if their skill sets will help you carry out your duty in a safe and timely manner, with the least possible loss of life.”
“I know that normally that wording is for getting better hunters and trackers to help you find the monster, but I thought the wording would give me enough room to call in someone to help me make sure that Bobby Marchand doesn’t lose his life unless he deserves to lose it.”
“It’s commendable thinking, Newman.”
“You saved my life the first time I met you, and you just flew across the c
ountry to help me save a life. Call me Win.”
“I’ve never heard that as short for Winston.”
“I was Winston until sixth grade when I started my growth spurt. By the end of seventh, I was on the basketball team.”