Free Murder in the Choir (The Jazz Phillips Mystery Series) by Joel B Reed Page A

rushed to his face and he opened his mouth to say something. “Nobody goes in until Crime Scene gets done!” I cut in. “That may be the shooter’s nest.”
    He glared at me. “You’re supposed to keep us in the loop,” he snarled.
    “We just found it, not ten minutes ago,” I told him. “That’s why we’re standing here. Waiting for Crime Scene.”
    “Who’s that?” Spinks demanded, jabbing a finger at Robert. The youngster looked at Spinks with hooded eyes, his face a rigid mask.
    “A local kid who was curious about what we are doing,” I told him. I was about to tell him about the empty casing, but he cut me off.
    “Well, get out of here,” Spinks told Robert.
    “No, wait a minute, Robert,” I told him. I turned to Dee. “Get Lonnie on the horn. Tell him his cub scouts are screwing up our investigation. Ask him to get them the hell out of here.” A smile tickled the corner of Robert’s mouth.
    Dee grinned and headed for his cruiser. “With pleasure.”
    “Wait a minute!” Spinks called after him and Dee stopped. “Look, maybe we got off on the wrong foot here,” he added.
    “No,” I answered. “We didn’t. You did. I’m not going to take any more of your bullshit. You either play ball or I’m gone, and if this case goes south I’ll swear in court you are the one who screwed it up.”
    “So what are we supposed to do?” Spinks’ partner asked. “Sit around with our thumbs up our butts?”
    I looked at Dee. Kruger had a point. The FBI had been called in and they were a part of the investigation whether we liked it or not. “All right,” I said. “We’ll split it up. You stay with Dee and Spinks will go with me. Once Crime Scene gets here, we’ll head back into Nashville and pool what we have.” As much as I disliked Spinks, I preferred to have him where I could keep an eye on him. Then, too, he wouldn’t try to lean on me the way he might on Dee. Apart from his asshole partner, I didn’t think Kruger would be a problem.
    “Why don’t I stay here with DiRado?” Spinks said. “He can fill me in while we wait. Kruger can go with you.”
    I looked at Dee. His face was an unreadable mask, but I knew he would just as soon go through a proctological examination. Even so, it was a reasonable request. “All right,” I told him. “But DiRado is in charge until Crime Scene gets here. No one goes into the smith shop
    or the privy.”
    “The shitter?” Spinks asked. “You found evidence in there?”
    “Only a possibility,” I told him. “Fresh shit. Stick your head in and take a look if you want to check it out. Just don’t touch. You can smell all you want.” Behind him I could see DiRado and Kruger grin.
    “I’ll leave that to the humps,” Spinks said. Seeing the look on his face was priceless.
    Kruger and I walked around to the front of the building. I told him how we had come to discover the nest and pointed out the opening in the front of the shop. He took out a small set of binoculars and looked at it closely. “Looks like fresh cuts,” he said. “Maybe some flash burns, too. Any idea what he was using?”
    I showed him the spent shell I bought from Robert and pointed out where it came from. I also showed him the misfire and told him our theory about that. I told him what we had seen in the smithy and about the scratches in the ground by the privy behind it. As we talked, I found the questions he asked were professional and on target. I decided he was sharp enough to have pegged Spinks’ arrogance and bluster as a cover for incompetence. I wondered why Lonnie had paired him with Spinks, then concluded it was to make up for Spinks’ mistakes.
    I glanced at my watch. The morning was getting away from us but there was time to look over the outhouse by the community center before my interview with the reverend. I took Kruger across to the porch and showed him the bloodstains there and on the ground. Then, from the porch, I pointed out the privy behind the