DEATH BEHIND THE HEDGES

Chapter I

Dan Fox leaned back in his favorite chair and watched the rising sun reflect its golden light on the mountains. Early morning was his favorite time of day and the view from his apartment was spectacular, with the craggy peaks outlined against a cerulean sky. Now, however, it wasn’t the view he was concentrating on; his thoughts were fixated on the grisly murder that had taken place just twenty-four hours ago-- the second killing in two days. He reluctantly rose from his chair and picked up the keys to his old Mustang. He didn’t look forward to this trip but his friend and former colleague Greg Abbot, forensic pathologist for the coroner’s office, had really leaned on him.

He mulled it over as he drove the ten miles out to the county morgue. For years this facility had been buried in the basement of the old county hospital. Now they had a brand-new building that could not only accommodate twenty-five bodies but also had the capacity to handle all necessary autopsies as well as provide storage space. The building was adequate because until now murder was unique in this small city where the local crime rate consisted mostly of car thefts, burglaries and an occasional bank robbery. It seldom occurred here and when it did it was usually the result of a family squabble or a macho-motivated gang stabbing in a lower east-side bar.

But this one was different. It happened in Montecito, the exclusive Santa Barbara suburb occupied mostly by Hollywood elite, dot-com executives and old-money groupies. And the murder was gruesome. A severed head had been discovered by two hikers and their dog in a rugged canyon in the foothills above Montecito. The blood on the head was so fresh their dog could smell it.

Dan was making the trip to the morgue because Greg Abbot had reminded him he owed him for forensic information he’d shared on cases they worked together in the past. He also suspected that his old friend was trying to energize him and bring him out of his deep depression.

The long, lonely weeks of trying to decide what to do with his wife’s things after her sudden death a year ago were finally over, but the pain and anger were still as razor sharp as on the night it had happened. He guessed that Greg must think this particular case would get him involved and working again. From what he’d been told so far it did seem to have all the beguiling intrigue of a horror flick.

Dan decided the least he could do was humor Greg’s determined attempt at occupational therapy. He’d go meet the corpse,or at least was left of it, and then listen to Greg expound on whatever theory his forensic expertise had come up with.

He entered the door marked Pathology Department and found his friend sitting at his desk. In the glassed-off room behind Greg he could see several technicians working with computerized equipment, probably analyzing blood and tissue specimens.

Greg’s face brightened when he saw Dan, pushing his chair away from the desk he got up and greeted him, "Well, I finally got the old fox out of his den! God, I don’t know how you keep your figure, I eat yogurt for lunch everyday and the damn scale still moves up on me."

Dan looked around "This sure is an improvement Greg."

"Yeah, we’ve even got a high-tech ventilation system in here so we don’t have to smoke cigars in the autopsy room anymore."

Just then one of the lab technicians approached, a tall shapely blond, and even in the white lab coat it was easy to visualize how she would look in a bikini. "This is my old friend Dan Fox, Irene."

Her dark eyes glowed like coals as she smiled up into Dan’s eyes. "Well, I’m really delighted to meet a Paul Newman look-alike! Please, may I buy you two a cup of coffee?"