Buffalo Head

Castle sipped coffee from Styrofoam and stared at all that blood. Too much blood. Studied it all in silence, then said: What do you know, Harry.

Cripes! Give me a heart attack! came the response.

Castle smiled, bent-twisting, looking up, said: Quite a leap.

Harry nodded.

Detective Castle observed the little plastic evidence markers standing here and there, in and around all that stickiness. Haven’t bagged anything, have they?

Just the kid, he said.

Castle bent over a marker: a nickel, buffalo nickel, Indian head up, tribal feathers all but worn away. Haven’t seen one of these in years.

Found another one over there.

Castle walked to the other marker.

Kid must’ve been a collector.

Mmm, Castle nodded, bending down again. He studied the second coin with a growing look of concern.

You okay? Look a little pale.

Deja vous.

Harry nodded, pulling off gloves, said: Anyway, I’m off. Have a time. Not thinking of jumping, are you?

No.

That would be deja vous.

See ya, Harry.

Harry mumbled something over his shoulder.

Castle didn’t hear: this was the Stenson case, all over again. They now had a serial murderer on their hands.

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