Timble pulled out a fat wallet, pulled out a dollar and shoved it through the slit in the screw top. The folded dollar joined the others in the large jar. I thought it was a good way to collect a little extra fee, maybe it was donated to some charity. Maybe to Okert"s sucker fund as he pulled another sucker out of his breast pocket.
“Chief, you need to go and cordon off that bathroom before someone, like the killer, gets in there and takes away any evidence,” I said.
“Brandon,” Timble nearly pleaded with a hand out toward me as though I were a misfit child needing to go back to the orphanage.
A new sucker appeared in Okert"s mouth and he sucked on it thoughtfully. “I"m still waitin" on the examiner"s report, Dickie, gall darn it.”
Timble"s palms flat on the chief"s desk, he leaned and
