Page 32 of Parting Shot

“Ah, that’s just mean.” Jimmy sounded repulsed.

“And how was he killed?” I asked her.

“I’m guessing a GSW here, to the head,” she answered, pointing at his temple for me. “It’s a small caliber, I’m thinking a twenty-two maybe. I’ll know more when I get him on my table.”

“Anything else?”

“There’s what looks like a muzzle burn, contact wound, here on his skin.”

“So whoever did it got right up against him.”

“Yeah,” she agreed.

“Okay.” I got closer. “So he’s sitting there, pinching a loaf, and someone opens the door, shoves a gun in his face, and fires?”

Her dark brown eyes met mine over the mask she had on. “Yeah, that’s what it looks like.”

I threw up my hands. “Who leaves the door open when they take a shit at a bar?”

“Oh, you’re asking the wrong girl.” Her voice dipped low. “I only do my business at home.”

“Only?” That was interesting. “How do you manage that? What if you get ahold of some bad Italian and get the runs?”

Her face scrunched up. “You go home, Stiel. That’s disgusting.”

I turned to Jimmy. “Is that disgusting?”

“No.” He pointed at the dead man on the toilet. “That is disgusting.”

“O’Meara!”

“What?” he groused at her. “It is. Jesus, I need to make captain already.”

Deena and I laughed.

“What?”

“You have no patience,” she informed him.

“You’re a dick.” I further educated him.

We both got flipped off.

“Detective Stiel!” came the call from the outer area.

“Back by the toilets!” I yelled.

“Not something you hear every day,” Jimmy wisecracked.

“Nice.”

“Well”—he arched an eyebrow at me—“it is you we’re talking about.” And I was given the international sign for blow job—his fist working an invisible cock, his tongue making the sliding motion on the inside of his cheek.

Jimmy knew all about me. He was my partner after all.

“Charming.”

“See,” Deena said, as she, too, knew I was gay. I had trusted her with my secret after she saw me out one night. “That’s why you’ll never be captain. That’s gross, what you just did.”