Bane

November 19, 1993

"No tan line."

Her brows lifted. "I don't see how my tan lines are any of your business."

"Just the one. What did you establish from the vics?"

"I.D.'d them. Cause of death apparent in all three. Fatal bullet wound, fatal stab wound, the third victim likely drowned in her own blood. Won't know until autopsy."

"I guessed as much. You happen to know if they recovered the bullet?"

Goodwife glanced over her shoulder. They we're loading the bodies into black bags. "Bullet entered into the chest, exited out her back. Ballistics suggested it was a fifty caliber bullet."

"Any gold?" L.C. grimaced.

"Pardon me?"

"You know, fillings? Maybe a watch?"

Fallon coughed. "He's kidding! Jesus, L.C.! We believe the perpetrator uses gold slugs."

"I'll be able to determine that during autopsy. Who would waste gold in a bullet?"

"It doesn't matter." L.C. drew a cigar from his jacket and lit it with a few puffs. "Goodwife, one more question. Maybe not your field of expertise, but I figured I'd ask."

Goodwife was visibly annoyed. "If you're asking me out, this isn't the way to do it. Sure as hell isn't the time."

L.C. ignored her. "What is an Assistant District Attorney, a doctor, and a highschool teacher doing together at Twin Knolls?"

"Funny you'd ask."

"Hah-hah funny, or strange funny?" L.C. blew a cloud of smoke at Detective Fallon. Fallon coughed.

"Neither. Weird funny, though I guess funny wasn't the right choice of words. All three of these women were connected to Bellar."

"Your old boss."

"No, detective. His son, Simon."

L.C. huffed and stared at the glowing cherry on his cigar. "The kids with the facial trauma. What happened to him?"

"I don't know. You'd have to check with special crimes. If you're not going to ask me out to a drink, I think we're done here."

Fallon could not believe what he was hearing. A drink? "Did I miss something here?"

"You're the detective." Goodwife smirked.

"No, I'm not going to ask you out to a drink. I'm married."

"To your job? I'd thought you'd have better cliches."

"To my wife, Deputy Coroner. Even if I wasn't, I wouldn't share a meal with anyone in The Order, even if I was at gunpoint."

Faith Goodwife smiled a genuine smile and nodded. "What gave it away?"

"Besides your Puritan name? You're meticulous. Soft hands, clean and manicured nails. Good complexion. Healthy diet. You're fit, and older than you look."

"Now I'm charmed."

Fallon was red-faced. "You two have this conversation here?"

Goodwife, and L.C. ignored him. L.C. took another deep drag from his cigar and flicked the ash. "You've heard about me, but you call me by my name. You're careful what you say, but you know a lot more than your job description requires. You're willing to give me information, but only enough that I'd need your help. You want me to take you out drinking, but not because you want drinks."

"Actually, I do."

"Not with me. You just want to see what a real-life ci..." L.C. glanced sidelong at Fallon. "...you just want to know more about me. There's nothing to know."