webnovel

Chapter 5

Dr. Alfred Stully stands five-six feet and carries his trusty medical handbag. He rakes a liver-spotted hand over the Trump comb-over strands of hair left on his receding hairline.

“Wicked weather,” he says, his breathing labored and wheezy as he waddles over to us standing around the dead girl. He clicks his tongue, emitting a tsk-tsk sound and circles us like a shark. His jowly chin jostles as he shifts around the room, examining the corpse.

“Poor girl,” he whispers, mostly to himself.

But the chief hears him, and says, “How soon will we know a time of death?”

Dr. Stully moans as he crouches and kneels by the body, reaching a hand out to the armchair for support. He stops and asks, “Has this been dusted for fingerprints?”

Barton nods, folding his arms across his barrel chest.