“Who found her? Maybe they’ll know who she is.” He didn’t have much time. Mamacita would make a scene if he didn’t get over there soon. Just what every detective needed; his mother involved in one of his cases.
Adam gave a wicked grin and checked his notes. “Molly found her.”
He glanced up and down the street. “Molly? I don’t know any Molly around here. And what was she doing out at this time of night?”
“I guess she needed to pee.”
Ruben opened and closed his fists. At six foot eight and built like the linebacker he’d once been, not many people were willing to mess with him.
Adam was not only willing, he relished every opportunity. And he knew exactly what buttons to push.
Ruben took a step closer to his partner and lowered his voice. “Do not do this to me. Not tonight. I’ve spent the last forty-five minutes worrying about my mother’s safety. I’m still worried because I don’t know what went down here. Now, who is Molly and how did she discover the body?”
Adam moved to the side and nodded toward a disheveled man holding a leash with a border collie on the end. “That’s Molly and she trashed our crime scene and took a souvenir home to her owner.”
Ruben raised his eyebrows and Adam added, “A middle finger. Most likely the victim’s.”
“Is she missing one?” If there weren’t so many witnesses, he’d grab Adam by the neck and shake the information out of him.
“Several pieces are no longer attached to the body. Some of them are missing entirely. Could be Molly decided to bury them.”
“Would you care to tell me which ones, or shall we play Twenty Questions?”
“One ear, dangling earring still attached, is on the sofa. The other is nowhere to be found. The tongue and index finger are also missing.”
Ruben left Adam in his wake as he raced through the yard to the crime scene. He stood at the door and glanced inside. Smears of blood were everywhere. Worse than he’d imagined from Adam’s description. One glance at the body, twisted and bloody, and he blinked in surprise. The victim could almost have been his mother, only ten years younger. Same size, same coloring, same gray hair in a long braid. Except for the clothes. Mamacita would never wear such bright colors or mixture of prints.
“Ruben,” a determined voice called from across the yard.
“Go,” Adam said. “There’s nothing we can do here until the techies finish.”
Even Adam wasn’t brave enough to cross Mamacita.
Voodoo on Bayou Lafonte Page 28