Free The Book With No Name by Anonymous Page B

mind?’
    ‘Nah, just tell me – who the fuck is he?’
    ‘Some mean dude, goes by the name of Jefe. Don’t you fret, though. By this time tomorrow he’ll be known as “Jefe the Corpse”.’
    Before Sanchez could warn him how dangerous Jefe was, Elvis was already gone. Not that it would matter. Elvis would deal with Jefe. That sonofabitch was due to meet one hell of a violent death at the hands of the King.

Ten
    Detectives Miles Jensen and Archibald Somers both recognized the handiwork they saw before them. Jensen looked over at Somers, who was no doubt thinking the same thing. Two more dead bodies, both ruthlessly murdered like the five in the photos Somers had shown Jensen earlier. These two unfortunates were Thomas and Audrey Garcia. No doubt their dental records would confirm this later. Until then, the identification was just a fairly safe assumption.
    They had arrived at the large farmhouse on the outskirts of town long after the first policemen had shown up in response to a call from a relative of the victims. There was a long dirt track that wound all the way up to the front porch. Jensen’s battered old BMW saloon had just enough about it to get them over the rocks and potholes in once piece. This was a farmhouse that had been around for many years, suffering whatever the elements threw at it. It didn’t take a great detective to see that much.
    Within seconds of entering the kitchen at the front of the house Jensen was envying Somers, who had had the forethought to bring a handkerchief with him to cover his nose and mouth. The stench rising from the bodies was overwhelming, and Jensen was the only person in the room who didn’t have anything to mask the smell that assailed them. There were five other police officers scattered around the kitchen. Two of them were using a tape measure to work out distances from the bodies to various other areas of the kitchen. Another had a Polaroid camera and was busy taking photos. Every now and again the camera made a whirring noise and spat out aprint just like the ones Somers had of the previous five victims. One of the other officers appeared to be dusting for prints, an unenviable task, given that just about every inch of the room was covered in blood. The fifth and final cop was Lieutenant Paolo Scraggs. He was clearly the ranking officer because he was doing nothing other than looking over the shoulders of his colleagues to make sure they were doing their jobs properly.
    Scraggs was wearing a stylish dark blue suit. It wasn’t exactly an official uniform, but it looked as though he wanted it to be. He wore a neatly pressed, spotless white shirt under his suit jacket, and a plain navy-blue tie. It made sense that he should look like a man who took great care in his appearance, because attention to detail was an all-important part of being in his team. ‘His’ forensics team. They weren’t exactly the pride of the Santa Mondega Police Department, but Scraggs was doing his utmost to change that.
    The last week had been a very testing time for Scraggs and his team because of all the grisly murders that had taken place, and today was no exception. The kitchen was a foul mess. As well as the blood, which looked as though it had been sprayed around with a garden hose, there were pots, pans and all manner of broken dishes and cutlery scattered over the floor and on the work surfaces. Thomas and Audrey Garcia had either put up one hell of a fight, or whoever killed them had trashed the place in the hope of finding something valuable.
    The medical examiner had already been and gone, but an ambulance crew was also on hand, waiting just outside the front porch for someone to give them the nod so they could cover the bodies and ship them out. Somers duly gave them that nod and they sprang into action.
    ‘Who was the first man on the scene?’ Somers asked aloud as the medics hurried past him.
    ‘That would be me,’ replied Scraggs, walking over to greet Somers with his