Free Jack Daniels Six Pack by J. A. Konrath

quick.”
    “We used fingerprint powder on it, and it clung to the depressions. No prints, but the writing stood out.”
    The prescription was for sixty mls of sodium secobarbital, written out by Dr. Booster.
    “Handwriting matches previous prescriptions he’d written.” Herb held up the Booster case file.
    “So he was killed for the prescription, like we’d guessed.”
    “It gets better. We found something else.” Benedict handed me another photocopy. “This was written twenty or so pages into it. Maybe it was just a doodle, or maybe Booster had left a note for us while the killer was there.”
    It was a chicken scratch, only two words, practically illegible. It said “Buddy’s Son.”
    “So the killer is Buddy’s son?”
    “Could be. Or maybe his buddy’s son. Or maybe it has nothing to do with anything. I called Melissa Booster and she doesn’t know anyone named Buddy.”
    I puzzled over it.
    “How about the patient list? Someone with the first or last name Buddy?”
    “I checked. Nothing even close.”
    “Let’s have Booster’s entire life checked out, see if he ever knew someone named Buddy.”
    “Tall task.”
    “We’ll give it to the task force.” I grinned, changing the subject. “I know how the killer dumped the body in the can without being seen.”
    Benedict raised an eyebrow. I’ve always wanted to be able to do that; raise one eyebrow in silent inquiry. Unfortunately, both of my brows are hooked up to the same muscle, and whenever I try to raise one I do an involuntary Groucho Marx waggle.
    “He swiped a garbage can from a 7-Eleven on Lincoln, took it home, and arranged the body in it, then dropped it off at the 7-Eleven on Monroe and took the other can with him. He could have switched cans in twenty seconds, if he had a ramp and a hand truck.”
    “Maybe a garbageman?”
    “Maybe. Check through Booster’s patient list again, check out occupations; garbagemen, mailmen, delivery men, anyone who drives a truck. Check with the DMV as well, run down all truck owners on his list.”
    The phone rang, and I snatched it up and slapped it to my ear.
    “Daniels.”
    “This is Detective Evens, Palatine PD. I hear you’re picking through the Booster case.”
    I ran it down for him, ending with the discovery of the prescription pad.
    “I can’t believe we missed it.”
    “You weren’t looking for it. Does the name mean anything to you?”
    “Buddy? Nope. Can you fax it over, along with the prescription form? My cap’s gonna rip me a new one for not finding this.”
    “How many interviews did you do?”
    “Over thirty. Friends, neighbors, relatives. Anyone who knew the guy since high school.”
    “Any suspects?”
    “You’ve got the report.”
    “It doesn’t list hunches. Any interview strike you as an oddball?”
    “Half of his family were oddballs. But not in the murdering sense. Everyone liked the guy. We couldn’t find a reason someone offed him.”
    “I take it you’ll be looking closer now.”
    “Now that we know he died for a prescription? Hell yeah. Now I can start pulling in dealers, junkies, a whole slew of people.”
    “We’re looking for someone who owns or drives a truck. I could float some manpower your way, you need it.”
    “Nope. This murder really pissed people off here. Palatine’s a nice little town. We got more than enough guys who’d like to take another crack at this case.”
    “Keep in touch, Evens.”
    “Right back at you.”
    I put the phone back in the cradle and sneezed. I fished out another of Herb’s tissues. “So let’s check out the 7-Eleven on Lincoln, see if they saw anything. Did you run into the Feebies at the lab?”
    “Yeah. Thanks for sending them. I had to fake a case of diarrhea to get away from them and their nonstop monologues.”
    “Did it work?”
    “No. They followed me into the can.”
    “Any prints on the candy?”
    “None that we could find. But they’re going to run some tests.”
    “How’s the