“Aw shit,” I said. “A congressman. How long before every agency with a three-letter name shows up to stomp around in their fancy suits?”

“About half an hour,” said Meyers. ‘What do you think, Carolyn? Should we give them the traditional cold shoulder run around, or opt for the more upbeat ‘fuck you, let’s see the paperwork?'”

“Listen to your heart,” I said. Returning to the grisly scene, I nodded to Elena, who had the latest iPhone and a good data plan. “Get me this guy’s Wikipedia page,” I said. “Full version, none of that mobile crap.”

As she struggled to peel off her gloves, I grabbed our CSI photographer and began pointing out salient points. Roberts was a good guy, and a valuable sounding board, especially when I was mad. We had a standing agreement: no bullshit, just honesty and maybe a little snark when things were in a jam,

“Look at this,” I said, pointing at the jagged hole in the man’s lower back, from which a coiled snake of small intestine peeked coyly. “It looks like he was sawed open by a carpenter. Kidney’s missing. Organ theft?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Roberts said, snapping. “I think that he got stabbed through the kidney and they carved it out, along with all the other bits, to make it look like an organ harvest.”

I raised an eyebrow. “And what proof do you have of this supposition, sugar?”

“None whatsoever, Carolyn, other than the cuts themselves. Someone was in a hurry, and if I needed a kidney, I wouldn’t take one that badly damaged.”

“He was the chair of the House committee on green energy,” Elena said, intent on her phone. “He had a rating of ‘zero hunks of coal’ from the Electric Generators’ Association.”

“Sounds like a motive to me,” I said.

“Sounds like a hunch at best,” Roberts said. “Congressmen have a lot of enemies and even more frenemies.”

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