Bleeding Out

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One of Crocetti's techs was working the corpse while Noah and Briggs scavenged the area around the body. The streetlight was shot out so they searched by flashlight and neon glare. So far they had two shell casings from a .22 and a bloodied tooth.

"You know, I've almost got enough teeth to make a necklace." Johnnie Briggs made an imaginary half-circle under his collarbone. "Or maybe I should mount 'em and turn 'em into earrings. Sell 'em to all the tourists who want a genuine souvenir from L.A."

"You'd get richer doing that than this," rejoined his partner, digging another slug out of the window sash. The owner of the liquor store paced outside, scowling at the body and muttering darkly in Korean.

The tech laughed up at him, removing the dead man's clothes. "Welcome to the American Dream, my friend."

The Korean man said something else in his language and spat into the gutter.

Holding a driver's license under a Budweiser sign glowing behind iron bars, Lieutenant L.A. Franco read the victim's pedigree to the prowling detectives. "Charles Mackay. 5319 West 53rd. DOB 11/19/79."

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