He pointed to where white-clad crime scene techs fussed over something, around thirty feet down. The object of their attention lay on a ten foot mini-mesa chunked out of the hillside by eons of erosion. If the body hadn’t landed there, it would’ve rolled another hundred feet into dense brush.

“Here’s where it started.” Palmberg walked to a nearby evidence marker and nodded at a large brown patch spreading over asphalt, dirt, and grass. Clumps of what looked like pemmican littered the brush.

Once vital organs, drying in the sun. We all end up nonvital.

I said, “What’s he wearing?”

“Black suit, what used to be a white shirt. Black tie. Guess his last night was fancy.”

Same outfit I’d seen outside the Fauborg. I waited for Milo to comment but he just said, “Who found him?”

“Helicopter,” said Palmberg, “some real estate guy checking out large plots of vacant land. The pilot got as low as he could to verify it was what he thought it was, then called us.”

“Good eye.”

“He used to fly traffic for you guys, guess old habits die hard.”

Palmberg smoothed down an already impeccable lapel. “The movie that’s playing in my head until something better comes along is this: Muhrmann was with someone in a car, they stopped to enjoy the view. He’s looking out that way, the shooter gets behind him, does the deed. Muhrmann either rolls down by himself or gets a little push. There’s no sign of any big struggle and no drag marks so I’m figuring gravity was on the shooter’s side, it really wouldn’t take much propulsion once you put things in motion. Body stopped where it did because it snagged on some branches. Without that, we’d never have found him.”

Milo said, “Any idea how far the shooter was standing?”

Palmberg gazed at the white-suits. “Their best guesstimate is ten feet away, give or take. Due to the decomp it’s hard to be sure, but no obvious stippling, so probably not a contact or close-up. I can see the shooter suggesting they stop for the view then making some excuse to go into the car where he gets the weapon and blasts Muhrmann before Muhrmann knows what’s up. Your vic was shotgunned, huh? But you’re here?”

“Shotgunned but also nailed by a .45.”

“Two bad guys?” said Palmberg. “No sign of that with mine and the shell we recovered was a .357. So what do you know of this guy?”

Shadowing his eyes with a palm, Milo peered down into the crime scene. “He was a prime suspect in my murder but now I might have to recast my own movie. How’d you know about my vic?”