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here today,” said a high-pitched male voice from behind me. I whirled around to see who it was.
    “ It figures the ponytailed dudes wearing reflective sunglasses would end up in the same spot, huh?” I responded, tilting my shades low enough to reveal my raised eyebrows, ala ‘The Rock’, Dwayne Johnson.
    “ It’s good to see you, Jimmy!”
    Fred Marlowe, a longtime fan of my band, Quagmire, who just happens to be the lead beat reporter for the music scene in Nashville. Began his Nashville career nearly a decade earlier with a small local publication, The Nashville Scene , and then graduated to the city’s syndicated newspaper, The Tennessean , three years ago. Small and wiry in stature, he sports a Fu Manchu moustache which my wife says detracts a little from his brown eyes. Maybe it’s a macho thing, like something to make his baby-face framed by long blond hair look older. It works in a rock n’ roll sort of way, and that’s cool with me.
    “ Good to see you too, Freddie!” I told him, grasping his hand in the brother handshake. “It’s been awhile, man. Fiona and I were just talking the other night about having you and Trisha over for a cookout.”
    “ Sounds cool,” he said, turning his attention back to Dickey’s main entrance. “So, Ed Dusch-wad needs Fiona’s assistance to get a lead on the killer, I take it?”
    “ Yep,” I replied, turning to look back toward the doorway where one of the uniformed officers remained. The other had left his post to keep a pair of photographers from sneaking around to the rear of the building. “That’s his stated need, anyway, from what she told me earlier. I’m sure he’d like her assistance with more than just a murder investigation, as I’m sure you’ve noticed.”
    I chuckled, though I couldn’t hide my contempt.
    “ I’m sure you’re dead-on about that!” he snickered. “It’s got to be killing him that she’s all yours, Jimmy. He should get a frigging life, man! He’d better focus all of his attention on finding this psycho before someone else gets sliced and diced!”
    “ So, I guess everyone figures this is connected to what happened last night?”
    I wasn’t stating the obvious to just pass the fifteen to twenty minutes I figured Fiona and Ed would be inside the building’s offices. I pictured the murder scene already cordoned off, with a chalk outline representing Dickey’s body where it was found. But I wondered if Freddie knew something more.
    “ Hell, yeah, man—it’s the top story on Yahoo, dude!” He enthusiastically nodded his head to confirm how heavy this scene is. “I mean Candi’s death is the big story, but this new chapter is sure to send it on up to become CNN’s biggest story as well. This town will be swarming with a ton of vultures soon!”
    Other news folks had moved closer to us, as if sensing some exclusive nuggets were at hand. I didn’t recognize any of them from last night, so I doubted they realized the firsthand look I had of Ms. Starr’s glazed expression—her final pose for some camera, likely one belonging to a forensic aide fresh out of college.
    “ Yeah….It sort of makes sense, I guess,” I said.
    I hoped he didn’t think I was an idiot, and I longed for a later opportunity to fill him in with what I knew—far removed from our current surroundings and audience. He leaned in closer to me and lowered his voice.
    “ This one’s a lot worse than the others last night,” he whispered. “I know the examiner who handled the initial forensic investigation of Dickey’s office. He told me the room is covered in blood and splattered tissue. The killer, or killers, since there may be more than one, cut Dickey into pieces after shooting him once in the lower back, severing his spine.”
    “ Really?”
    That’s all I could muster. I waited for him to go on, while both of us kept watch on the main entrance.
    “ Yeah, man,” he said. “It’s sort of like they wanted to make sure he couldn’t