Murder by Design
Page 18
He tried to force that memory out of his mind. “I have a dog too,” he said, gazing at the medic’s very attractive face. “Barney.”
“Nice name.”
“Yeah, but I’m worried about him not getting out.”
“Oh, is there someone I can call who can let him out?”
“Yeah…”
A pounding noise on the nearby steps had Riley jumping to his feet. “That’ll be the team. Let them help you, then we’ll get you to the hospital.”
“I have to call my super, let him know what happened.”
Riley stood aside as the medics pushed into the narrow space between the rocks and the cliffside.
“Cops are on their way,” one of them, who seemed to be in charge, said.
“He’s a cop,” Riley told the guy. “Detective Brady.”
“You check his ID?”
“No sign of any.”
“Fucker took everything after he shot me,” Joe mumbled. He shuddered as a wave of nausea overtook him. He heard one of the medics say, “He’s going into shock,” before he passed out again.
There was no room for the gurney in the narrow space so Riley assisted in lifting the detective’s body out and onto the beach, where they could get him secured and attach a morphine line to his arm. Martin Boyd’s body was left among the rocks for the coroner to examine.
“Riley, you coming with?” Brett Oakley, the team leader, called to him. “The cops will need a statement from you.”
“Oh, right. I have to take Champ home first and get a shirt. I’ll meet you at the ER.”
“Okay, but make it snappy.”
Yes, Mother…
Despite telling himself earlier that he’d been inappropriate ogling the detective’s body while he’d been lying there in pain, Riley couldn’t help but recall that Detective Joe was hot-looking. Dark brown hair, cut short, those beautiful gray eyes when he’d opened them, a full mouth…
Totally my type…and he thinks I’m cute. Of course, that could’ve been shock or slight delirium. People had a tendency to say weird things when they were going in and out of consciousness, but he’d bet not too many Orange County cops ran around telling other guys they were cute.
He gave himself a shake. “C’mon, Champ, home.” He set off toward the steps that led to the clifftop, Champ bounding at his side.
He had to go make a statement at the hospital. Maybe he’d see the detective there. In fact, he’d make a point of it. Just to say hi, of course.
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About the Author
J.P. Bowie was born in Scotland and toured British theatres in numerous musical shows including Stephen Sondheim’s Company.
Emigrated to the States and worked in Las Vegas, Nevada for the magicians Siegfried and Roy as their Head of Wardrobe at the Mirage Hotel. Currently living in Henderson, Nevada.
J.P. Bowie loves to hear from readers. You can find his contact information, website details and author profile page at https://www.pride-publishing.com