He didn’t know what pushed him to do that, but the impulse was stronger than his prudence. Besides, he relished every shadow which crossed the sheriff’s face, and every sound that proved the man was gritting his teeth to powder.
“What for?” Ken barked with exasperation. “Your brain has definitely turned to mush since you started watching those stupid CSI shows you keep talking about. That’s a film, boy. This is reality,” he pointed to the body on the floor. “Put the dang knife in a bag and seal it,” he bellowed, losing his temper. His face had already turned scarlet and his blood pressure went up another notch.
The deputy looked at him sideways and said, “You know what, Sheriff, you want that knife in the bag, you do it. I might be younger by about twenty years, but I didn’t come with the bees the other day. How stupid do you think I am to leave my prints on that knife?”
“Whaaat?” Kenneth exploded.
The man couldn’t believe his ears. The pup had refused to submit and that wasn’t acceptable by any standards.
Chris turned to leave the kitchen and threw over his shoulder, “By the way, I do wonder why you insist I touch that knife and why you don’t want the medical examiner here. Something’s fishy, if you ask me,” he concluded, tapping his nose with his forefinger. Then, he left the kitchen swiftly despite his build.
Kenneth looked after him completely befuddled, his eyes bulging out. “I didn’t ask you, you... you... You’re fired, you hear me?” he yelled loud enough to draw Gus to the kitchen.
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