Detective Mackey peels back the foil on his hotdog and grins. He inhales the aromas emanating from the processed delicacy with exaggerated delight. Deputy Chastain twists his mouth upward in bewilderment. Dave simply stares at his fellow law enforcement officer. He tries not to puke, observing the massive pile of onions on Detective Mackey's hotdog. Indigestion much?

  Finishing his inspection of the hotdog, James plucks off a very large sliver of onion and pops it into his mouth. He chews slowly and methodically, silently scrutinizing the two sheriff's deputies. After a moment, James lifts his left leg as if to sit on the hood of Dave's truck. Dave puts an end to that cuckoo thought with a stern head shake. He points toward the ground with a pudgy finger.

  Detective Mackey visibly deflates. His smile wanes, eyes narrowing to tiny slits. He shoves another sliver of onion into his mouth and stares sidelong at Dave.

  "I still don't see why we had to pile into that big truck of yours to go less than five blocks. I mean...But, whatever," Mackey says. "I much prefer to walk. Better for the posture."

  "Where are you from, Mackey?" Dave asks, curiosity tugging at his gray matter. "If you don't mind me asking?"

  "Oh no. No. Everyone always asks me that," Detective Mackey states, winking energetically at Deputy Chastain.

  Deputy Chastain rolls his eyes away from the smarmy detective, feeling like he is going to vomit. Is this guy for real? This cartoonish excuse for a detective is the guy Castleton Police has put in charge of a possible serial murder case?

  Detective Mackey grins mischievously, his goal having been achieved. He stores his observations away for another time. Deputy Newsome is curious and a bit hard-nosed, with an unhealthy attachment to his oversized truck. This other deputy--Chastain--is an ignorant, arrogant, self-inflating prick.

  "Most recently, I worked out in Portland. That's Maryland. Before that...It was Reno, Nevada. But I was born and raised in Oklahoma City," Detective Mackey says this last part with obvious pride. "I guess you can say...I've been damn near everywhere."

  "I wouldn't say that," Morris Chastain mutters under his breath.

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  Both Dave and Detective Mackey shoot Chastain a blank stare. Deputy Chastain shrugs and glances away yet again. Newsome fixes his hawkish gaze on his new detective liaison.

  "Oklahoma, huh?" Dave says. "Do any police work while you were out there? Catch any really bad guys?"

  "No. Actually," Mackey says. "I left the academy and went straight to Reno. I did catch some low-level bad guys out that way. Remember Henry Treble? The guy who was going after little old ladies? I helped put him in the slammer. He died there. One of the inmates took an iron to his face. Wasn't pretty. I think he owed the guy cigarettes or something. A waste of a life."

  Deputy Chastain perks up at news of Mackey's endeavors into detective work. He crosses both arms over his chest and makes the mistake of leaning onto the passenger door of Dave's truck. Dave snaps the fingers of his hand and motions for his colleague to think of doing otherwise. With yet another eye roll, Deputy Chastain reluctantly complies.

  Detective Mackey turns his full attention on Deputy Newsome. His eyes take on a strange glint and his grin grows even more devious.

  "What about you, Deputy Newsome? Where all have you been?"

  "Uh...I pretty much...I was born in Saddleberg. It's a quaint little town on the other side of Merrville County. I've worked in a couple police departments here and there. But, I've mostly served with the Merrville Sheriff's Department," Dave replies. He suddenly gets the impression that he is being interrogated.

  "So...You've lived and worked in Merrville your entire life?" Mackey asks.

  "Yeah, so?" Dave counters testily. "That supposed to mean something?"

  "Oh, nothing. Just asking. That means...You should know quite a few people around Castleton, right?"

  "Yes. Kind of. No. Merrville is a big county, James."

  Detective Mackey's grin becomes even slyer. He waves his left hand at Dave in a demure gesture. He also alters his voice to sound less deep and more breathy.

  "Oh. So we're on a first name basis already, Dave? My, my, my. You sure do move fast, Deputy Newsome."

  Dave glowers at Detective Mackey. Deputy Chastain barely manages to stifle a coarse laugh. Mackey is completely unfazed by Dave's frustration. He takes a large bite of his hotdog and chews it methodically.

  "Relax, Dave. I'm only busting your balls," Mackey laughs. "Let a guy have some fun, why don't ya? I haven't been in Castleton long enough to build up a strong rapport with the local natives. It might help if they saw a familiar face. Someone they feel they can trust. People will be more likely to open up and share details they might otherwise want to forget. In other words, your Sheriff Northrop is right. I need you on this investigation, Deputy Newsome."

  Dave's brow lifts and he appraises Detective Mackey more carefully. There is more depth to this skinny fella than meets the eye. Besides, it feels good to be needed.