Doa 061 -

Lena gestured to the mouse. "The murder weapon?"

Lena ducked under the tape. "They never do." doa 061

The scene was a loading bay behind a defunct fish cannery on the South Lander Street overpass. The air was a cocktail of brine, rust, and something else—a sweet, chemical undertone that made her think of burnt circuit boards. Lena gestured to the mouse

The body was in a drainage culvert, half-sitting, half-sprawled against a concrete abutment. It was a man, mid-forties, dressed in a remarkably well-tailored charcoal suit for a corpse found in a gutter. No wallet, no watch, no phone. The first thing Lena noticed was the serenity. His face was composed, almost peaceful, as if he'd simply decided to take a nap in the muck. The second thing was his right hand. It was clenched around a small, pearlescent white object—an old-fashioned computer mouse. Its cord had been neatly severed, the copper wires fanned out like tiny, frozen lightning bolts. The air was a cocktail of brine, rust,