Free Murder by Numbers by Kaye Morgan Page A

that story doesn’t exactly enhance Deke’s stature as a criminal genius. If he’d done the stuff I saw, the graffiti probably would have been blue—I can’t see him hoarding pink glitter spray paint.”
    â€œMaybe he used that color to throw everybody off the scent,” Kevin said.
    â€œDeke? You think he’d plan that far ahead?”
    â€œOh, Deke does have a bit of animal cunning that helps him through most of his scams,” Kevin said. “But he has a nearly terminal case of laziness. In fact, it’s the main reason I can’t see him running down the street smashing windows.”
    â€œBut what if he did do it—and Oliver Chissel saw him, the big boss of the company that just fired him—?”
    â€œYou’re really piling it on, aren’t you?” Kevin interrupted. “Sabotage, vandalism, and now murder—there’s a theory that ties up everything in a nice, neat package. Problem is, real life is usually a lot messier than theory.”
    Liza shrugged and nodded. “Sheriff Clements said pretty much the same thing. But imagine if it happened the way I said…”
    â€œRemember, we’re talking about Deke Jannsky here,” Kevin said. “If they’d found Chissel dumped in an alley with a tire iron stuck in his head, that would seem more like Deke’s style. Hell, they’d probably find Deke’s fingerprints on the tire iron.”
    He shook his head. “But we’re talking about considerable thought and effort involved here. I mean, who’d think of using the ocean as a murder weapon? Besides, just figuring out the tides would take more planning than Deke usually puts into his scams.”
    â€œNot so much thought,” Liza objected. “You just told me, the basic idea for the body on the beach appeared on TV not too long ago.”
    â€œYeah.” Kevin dragged out the word, dripping in doubt. “And the magic of TV is that it certainly wouldn’t show how much of a job it would really be—hauling the body from Main Street down to the beach, digging a pit in the sand, getting Chissel arranged properly without him trying to fight his way out of there—I’m still wondering how our killer managed that stunt. Besides, digging’s more work than Deke would ever do, much less packing the sand back in—”
    â€œThe pile driver was right there. Maybe Deke used that to plant Chissel.”
    Kevin didn’t even bother to hide the look of superiority on his face. “For a would-be detective, you’ve got a lot to learn. You can’t get a body—dead or unconscious—to stand up at attention like a wooden piling. And if the killer buried Chissel up to his neck in sand, he had to manage that. It’d be a tough trick, whether Chissel was dead or alive at the time.” He shook his head, trying to make the image go away. “I’m hoping, for his sake, he was dead.”
    â€œSo you think he was dead when his killer buried him?” she asked.
    â€œI can’t imagine what it would be like to be alive, watching the tide rise. But in his shoes, I’d have struggled like anything—heck, like my life depended on it. No way a conscious man would go in a hole all neat and tidy like I heard it was. Ugh. I don’t want to think about it anymore. I saw enough dead bodies when I served in the army.
    â€œSo you think he was dead when he got buried? What about rigor mortis?” Liza said.
    â€œYou’ll have to pay more attention to those CSI shows,” Kevin told her. “Rigor can take hours. A very long time in hot weather.” That haunted look came back to his eyes. “Almost makes me pity the guy who killed him. Can you imagine spending hours beside a stiffening stiff? More important, can you imagine Deke Jannsky doing that?”
    â€œWhen you put it that way, no.”
    He shook his head. “And even if the killer did wait