Dead Body Language by Penny Warner

at the hospital—a catheter. But—” He pressed his lips together then mouthed the word so firmly his lips turned white. “The sheriff is fairly certain it’s not a suicide.”
    “What about the note they found?” I asked, leaning closer still. I hated myself when I used my feminine charms. But a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.
    “I found it, actually,” he said humbly. “Anyway, it just didn’t sound right, you know. All that stuff about—well, I better not say. You know.”
    No, dammit, I didn’t know! Come on, Deputy, out with it!
    I waited but he said nothing more on the subject. “I gotta get back to work. Going to the Jubilee for a little frog-tasting this weekend?”
    It was hopeless. “Wouldn’t miss it,” I said with a sigh, and climbed on my bike.
    Mickey Arnold pointed to his eye, then to me. “See you,” he signed, crudely. I had to smile.
    “Oh, great!” I said, scanning the headline of a special edition of the competition when I got back to the office.
    DOWAGER DEATH STUNS SKUNK
    Another winning slug from those masterful wordsmiths at the
Mother Lode Monitor
. They even had a photo. The sheriff looked like a dweeb.
    The article was overwritten, ungrammatical, and full of hyperbole, but it had sure scooped the hell out of the
Eureka!
How did they manage to print the story so fast? The by-line read Harmony Blaine.
    Lacy Penzance, well-known philanthropist and widow of former Flat Skunk mayor, Reuben Penzance, died yesterday of an apparent stab wound in the local Pioneer Cemetery.
    Her body was found by ten-year-old Brian Hurley on his way to school at 7:05 A.M . this morning, and immediately reported to Deputy Mickey Arnold at the Flat Skunk Sheriff’s office.
    Initially labeled a self-inflicted knife wound, further investigation by this reporter has revealed there may have been a second weapon involvedthat caused Penzance’s death, laying question to the theory of suicide.
    At this point in Sheriff Elvis Mercer’s investigation no suspects have been identified. The sheriff is still pursuing a number of leads.
    Damn! Beat out by a throwaway bird-cage liner. I rolled up the paper and tossed it into the trash. It was time for a little old-fashioned newspaper war.
    I stopped down the hall at Miah’s comic book shop. Miah looked up from his
Batman: The Death of Robin
special edition and signed, “What’s up?” by shaking an upturned hand in the air.
    “Miah, I’m going to Whiskey Slide for a little while and I probably won’t be back until late. I need to finish that story on gourmet frog fare by tonight. Think you could do it for me?”
    I signed at a moderate speed and moved my lips to help him understand. He seemed to follow every word. I can tell when beginners don’t understand my signs. They just nod their heads rhythmically, then give me a blank stare at the end of my speech.
    Miah brushed his index finger up the front of his chin, for “Sure,” then shook his head while signing “problem,” meaning “No problem.”
    Since he owed me, I gave him two more assignments—one about the frog play given by Mrs. Stadelhofer’s fourth grade class, and one about the history of the Frog Jubilee in Calaveras County. In appeasement, I promised to look for a couple of
Dark Man
and
The Stranger
comics at Whiskey Slide’s Comic Central store.
    “By the way, someone called while you were out, but they hung up when I said hello. Happened twice,” Miah said, his fingers illustrating his statements.
    I responded with face language—a frown.
    “Oh,” he continued. “And that guy staying in Boone’s office left a note. It’s on your desk.”
    I returned to my office and picked up Dan’s note from the desk.
    “
Connor, forgot to ask a favor. Would you feed my cat while I’m gone? Food is in the microwave. Thanks. Dan
.”
    I tossed the note into the garbage can and gathered up a few things before heading out.

I never saw it coming.
    I was halfway home, pedaling furiously