Triskele

"There's the woman of the hour," Jordan said, coming up next to Bevan in the lounge the next morning. "Are you hung over?"

"Only when I drink something nasty," Bevan smiled. "So just how many games did I win last night?"

"You won ten, bought everyone in the place a round of drinks, and became the first person to beat Nigel at a game of darts more than once, and you were pretty shit faced by then," Jordan laughed. "You, drunk, and pointy objects somehow mix."

"I get better as the BAC goes up," Bevan said, "That was all I did, right?"

"You mean did you do somebody? Not to my knowledge, unless you called someone after Woody drove you home," she said. "Which Woody couldn't even tell you were drunk. He said you all have a very interesting conversation on farm equipment though."

"Interesting? How?" Bevan asked.

"Just interesting," she smirked. "Why, have you done it on a tractor or something?"

"Where haven't I had sex?" Bevan said. "In the course of six months I probably had sex in every conceivable position and location imaginable. Though I have yet to have sex on a motorcycle driving down the highway."

"You surprise me more and more everyday," Jordan said.

"Please, that was two years ago and I haven't had sex since," she sighed. "Can't you tell?"

"Two years?! You haven't had sex in two years!?"

"Haven't had a date in eight months," she smiled. "Are you really that shocked? After all, I believe you were the one who called me cold and heartless."

"You’re never gonna let me live that down are you?"

"Nope. Hold on, I gotta see if Nigel got an id on my gunshot victim," she said as they reached the door of the shared office.

She walked in and smiled, "Got anything for me?"

"A round of applause," he said. "I never dreamed you could drink so much and still beat me at darts."

"An id Nigel," she said in mock agitation.

"Did something happen last night?" Bug asked, looking between them.

"No, why?" they said.

"You called him Nigel," Bug said.

"It's easier to scream," she said, then closed her eyes. "That sounded lovely."

"It did," Nigel smirked. "If only it were true."

"Only in your dreams," she smiled, "An id?"

"On your desk," he smiled.

"Thank you," she said.

"You owe me lunch after taking all my money," he said.

"I'll pick you something up," she said calmly, walking out.

~~~~

"Bevan, this is Detective Eddy Winslow. He's working the Strangler case," Garret said, then turned and began walking out.

"Detective, could you tell me where he was found?" she asked, not looking up from the body yet.

"How about we get to know each other first?" he smiled, his eyes roving up her legs to her backside.

She sighed and turned around, removing the magnifying eyeglasses she had on to examine the ligature mark.

"Hell-o," he said, looking her over from the front.

"Yes, we've already done the introductions," she said. "Would you like to start with your crime scene information or do you want to know what I found?"

"Dazzle me," he grinned.

"I found several yellow fibers in the ligature around the neck. I believe they're nylon, probably from a thin rope, judging by the way it cut into the surrounding tissue. There's no ligatures on the wrist to suggest he was otherwise restrained, so he probably knew who killed him," she began as Nigel walked in. Bevan turned toward him. "Just in time, I was about to give up on you."

"Detective Winslow, hello," he said, then got out the camera. "So what have you found so far?"

"Fibers in the neck ligature, no signs of restraint on the wrists. Several piercings and tattoos, including one tattoo," she pulled down the sheet and both men's brows furrowed, "on his penis."

"What the hell," Detective Winslow said.

"Big John," Nigel grinned. "How original."

Bevan chuckled and pulled the sheet back up. "It may prove to be useful. Not many men get their genitals tattooed. It's a word, in blue, not black, and very nicely done. Probably cost a good hundred or more. Plus at that size it must have taken at least an hour and a half."

"You got ink somewhere sweetheart?" Winslow asked.

"You're so charming," she smiled, then looked at Nigel. "Let's get one of each tattoo, size reference next to them. I want a wraparound of the ligature, portraits of the teeth. The piercings won't help to id him, but most parlors keep a record of what tattoos they give, and unless this guy was picking flash, we may get a positive id."

"You've got a tattoo, don't you?" Nigel grinned.

"Just because you test drive the car doesn't mean you're going to buy it," she said.

"What?" Winslow asked.

"Just because I know the lingo doesn't mean I have any body adornment," she told him. "I'll do the diagram while you take pictures. Frame Big John there though, in case someone gets a hold of the photos."

"Frame it?" Nigel asked, "How?"

She got out two sheets of paper and cut them in half, writing the location of the tattoo on one of the sheets. She framed the tattoo with them and positioned a ruler along the top, opposite the writing.

"Was that so hard to understand?" she asked.

"You've done this before," Nigel smiled.

"Last time it read 'suck it'. That was the first time I'd seen one with instructions," she said seriously, picking up the clipboard.

Both men laughed and she continued to fill out the diagram, not smiling.

"You're getting size references on them right?" she asked, feeling like annoying him.

"Just for you," Nigel said, taking another picture.

"How sweet of you," she said tonelessly. "Let's turn him for prints."

They turned him and all raised their eyebrows at what they saw.