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we picked up yesterday. I need my investigators to work those scenes, as soon as we can get them there.”
    As Chief Mullins moved away to speak with Phil Hayes, Will said, “Well, looks like we’re working together right off the bat, Detective.”
    â€œSure does.” Julia pulled Jasper’s grooming brush out of her back pocket. “You might want to get rid of any dog hair on your clothes before we get started. Wouldn’t want to contaminate the scene.”
    â€œRight. Thanks.”
    While Will moved a few yards away to brush himself down, Julia walked down the sidewalk to where Judge Lucien Lockhart’s body was hanging. She stood there for a moment by herself, observing the scene while it was still basically undisturbed, realizing at once that this murder wasn’t some random act of violence. The victim had definitely been staged. He was naked except for a pair of white swim trunks, and blood had streaked its way from his mouth, down his chin, and over his chest and legs. Below his dangling feet, the killer had placed a small set of metal scales with a crossed-swords finial. What did that mean? The scales of justice? Some kind of equality statement?
    â€œHere, put these on,” Brannock told her, handing her plastic gloves and paper booties. She snapped on the gloves and stretched the paper booties over her white Nikes. Brannock already had on his protective gear.
    â€œIs that what I think it is on the left side of that scale?” she asked him.
    â€œWe think it’s part of the judge’s tongue. It looks to me like the perp pulled his tongue out and sliced it off about three inches back. He left it here for us to find and took the tip of the tongue with him. A souvenir, I guess.”
    Despite being a veteran homicide detective, Julia was somewhat shocked that such a mutilation murder could happen in an exclusive and gated area of Chattanooga, Tennessee, and involve such a well-known and distinguished citizen. Julia stared at the small amount of blood pooling in the left tray of the scales under the piece of Lockhart’s tongue. She stooped down and examined it, then looked at the coins stacked neatly in the right-hand tray. “That’s a bunch of dimes. A tongue balancing out with money.”
    â€œYeah.”
    â€œHe’s sending us a specific message here. We figure out what it is, we can get him.”
    Will gave her an appraising look. She held his stare. He said, “The perp had this all planned out, all right. Down to every gory detail.”
    â€œAnd he had plenty of time to play around with the vic.” Julia shook off her aversion to the horrific cruelty of the murder and tried to assess the scene without any emotion. It wasn’t exactly easy, not in a case like this one, but she had trained herself to do it. She turned and faced Will again.
    â€œHe wrote ONE on the floor in blood. I think that means he’s just getting started.”
    â€œThat’s exactly what he means.”
    â€œWho found the body?”
    â€œLockhart’s housemaid. Name’s Maria Bota. She called nine-one-one, completely hysterical. Said she found him when he didn’t come inside for breakfast. She noticed some drops of blood and followed the trail from the swimming pool to where the body was suspended on the back gallery. The CPD officer first on the scene says the maid lives out back in a converted carriage house. He took her out there to calm her down and told her to sit tight until somebody came out and interviewed her.”
    â€œAnybody else at home when the murder occurred?”
    Will shook his head. “Not unless they took off. We can’t do much out here until the medical examiner shows up and releases the body. How about we go find out exactly what that maid knows?”
    â€œLet’s do it.”
    Will walked alongside Julia Cass, already fairly certain that she knew precisely what she was doing, would do it well, and by