“Nah,” Jack said. “Once you get past the smell, you got it licked.”

“Please!” Laurie murmured. “That’s disgusting.”

“Seriously,” Jack said. “They can be a challenge. I like them better than gunshot wounds.”

“This one is both,” Laurie commented, as she put Jack down for the floater.

“How delightful!” Jack commented. He walked back to the scheduling desk and looked over Laurie’s shoulder.

“There’s a presumptive, close range shotgun blast to the upper-right quadrant,” Laurie said.

“It’s sounding better and better,” Jack said. “What’s the victim’s name?”

“No name,” Laurie said. “In fact, that will be part of your challenge. The head and the hands are missing.”

Laurie handed Jack the folder. He leaned on the edge of the desk and slid out the contents. There wasn’t much information. What there was came from the forensic investigator, Janice Jaeger.

Janice wrote that the body had been discovered in the Atlantic Ocean way out off Coney Island. It had been inadvertently found by a Coast Guard cutter which had been lying in wait under the cover of night for some suspected drug runners. The Coast Guard had acted on an anonymous tip, and, at the time of the discovery, had been essentially dead in the water with their lights out and radar on. The cutter had literally bumped up against the body. The presumption was that it was the remains of the drug runner/ informer.

“Not a lot to go on,” Jack said.

“All the more challenge,” Laurie teased.

Jack slipped off the desk and headed for the communications room en route to the elevator. “Come on, grouchy!” he called to Vinnie. He gave Vinnie’s paper a slap and his arm a tug as he passed. “Time’s a wasting.” But at the door he literally bumped into Lou Soldano. The detective lieutenant had his mind on his goal: the coffee machine.

“Jeez,” Jack commented. “You should try out for the New York Giants.” Some of his coffee had sloshed out onto the floor.

“Sorry,” Lou said. “I’m in sorry need of some java.”

Both men went to the coffeepot. Jack used some paper towels to dab at the spill down the front of his corduroy jacket. Lou filled a cup to the brim with a shaky hand, then sipped enough to allow for plenty of cream and sugar.

Lou sighed. “It’s been a grueling couple of days.”

“Have you been partying all night again?” Jack said.

Lou’s face was stubbled with a heavy growth of whiskers. He had on a wrinkled blue shirt with the top button undone and his tie loosened and askew. His Colombo-style trench coat looked like something a homeless person would wear.

“I wish,” Lou grunted. “I’ve seen about three hours of sleep in the last two nights.” He walked over, said hello to Laurie, and sat down heavily in a chair next to the scheduling desk.

“Any progress on the Franconi case?” Laurie asked.

“Nothing that pleases the captain, the area commander, or the police commissioner,” Lou said dejectedly. “What a mess. The worry is, some heads are going to roll. We in Homicide are starting to worry we might be set up as scapegoats unless we can come up with a break in the case.”