The stench of rotten garbage hit her immediately, sucking the air from her lungs. If she’d eaten anything recently, it would’ve come right back up as she gingerly reached into the victim’s back pocket to retrieve his wallet. Since it was still there and still full of cash, she concluded that robbery hadn’t been a motive. Placing her fingers on his neck she found him cold to the touch. He’d been there a while.

She flipped open the leather billfold and drew in a deep breath that she instantly regretted due to the stink.

“Who is he?” the sergeant asked.

With a sinking feeling in her stomach, Sam stared at the District driver’s license, unable to believe what she was seeing.

“Lieutenant?”

She looked up and met his gaze. “I want everyone out of here. Seal off this alley to even our people and get the M.E. in here the second she arrives.”

“You got it.” He walked away to see to her orders.

Left alone with the remains of Willie Vasquez, Sam’s heart broke for the ballplayer, his family and all the fans who’d loved him, especially her own son, who would take this hard.

“Ah, Willie,” she whispered. “Why’d you take your eye off the ball?”

Chapter Three

Chapter Three

Freddie Cruz arrived a few minutes later, amused to find Sam inside a Dumpster. “Wish I could have a picture of the LT in the Dumpster for the bulletin board in the pit.”

“Close your yap and take a gander at who our victim is.” Over the top edge of the Dumpster, Sam handed him Willie’s billfold.

Freddie took a quick look and then met her gaze, stunned. “Crap.”

“This might be a good time for an actual swearword, Detective.”

“Shit.”

“Better.”

“On the way over here, I was listening to WFBR and more than one caller said they’d like to have five minutes alone with Willie. You could hear the rage coming through the airwaves.”

“Interesting. We’ll have to take a look at that angle.” Sam watched as he placed the wallet in an evidence bag. Next she checked to see if Willie had anything else in his pockets that might prove useful to them. A careful search of pants and coat pockets yielded nothing. “Any sign of Lindsey?”

“Not yet. Want a hand out of there?”

“I’ll wait with him until she gets here. You got your phone?”

“Yeah,” he said warily. “Why?”

“Hand it over. I left mine in the car.”

“Do I have to?”

She shot him a perturbed look.

“Well excuse me if I don’t want my phone in a Dumpster,” he said as he handed it to her.