The body lay sprawled in the parking lot between the taco stand and a row of flea market tables. With apartment complexes on three sides of the scene, the crowd pressed closely at the yellow tape.  They had just come home from work and this was Reality Television at its finest.  The camera crews got their film footage and their sound bite so they had just packed up their gear and rolled away. I was hot; I was tired; I was hungry. It was already getting dark. As I walked near the edge of the parking lot, a plaintive voice called over the tape.

"Miss Officer!  Miss Officer!  Hey!  Come 'ere!"

Most of the time I ignore spectators, but something about this guy reminded me of a cat on the front porch, yelling for attention, so I took a step in his direction.

"Yes?"

"Hey, Miss Officer! How much longer you gonna be?"

This puzzled me. What did he care?

"I dunno. I'm still waiting on the Medical Examiner's Office to come pick up the body."

He frowned.  "So how long's that gonna take?"

A crowd of men gathered around him.  Clearly he was their spokesman.

"I dunno. They're working on a drowning now.  They'll get here when they get here."

He translated and there was much frowning and groaning.  This had me more intrigued than the dead guy going into rigor on the pavement. 

So I asked him, "What's the deal?"

And that's when he enlightened me.    

                                                           Drum roll please . . . 

"We just got off work. We want to know how long before you move the dead guy so the taco stand can open back up."