Страница 6 из 54
Chapter 12
QUARTER TO NINE the next morning, I was rapping at the fogged window of Lieutenant Roth's office at the Hall. Roth likes me- like another daughter, he says. He has no idea how condescending he can be. I'm tempted to tell Roth that I like him- like a grandfather. I was expecting a crowd- at least a couple of suits from Internal Affairs, or maybe Captain Welting, who oversaw the Bureau of Inspectors- but, as he motioned me in, I saw that there was only one other person in the room. A nice-looking type dressed in a chambray shirt and striped tie, with short, dark hair and strong shoulders. He had a handsome, intelligent face that seemed to come to life as I walked in, but it only meant one thing to me: Polished brass. Someone from the department's press corps, or City Hall. I had the blunt, uneasy feeling they'd been talking about me. On the way over, I had rehearsed a convincing rebuttal about the breach in press security- how I'd arrived late on the scene myself, and the real issue was the crime. But Roth surprised me. ""Wedding Bell Blues," they're calling it," he said tossing the morning's Chronicle in my face. "I saw it," I replied, relieved to focus back on the case. He looked at Mr. City Hall. "We'll be reading about this one every step of the way. Both kids were rich, Ivy League, popular. Sort of like young Ke
"I
I didn't really have a choice. I nodded yes. "If you don't get in the way. Besides, you wear nicer ties than Jacobi." "Father's Day present." He beamed. I couldn't believe I felt a tremor of disappointment shooting through me. Jesus, Lindsay. I didn't see a ring. Lindsay! "I'm taking you off all other assignments," Roth a
Chapter 1 3
THE JOKE IN HOMICIDE about the morgue was that in spite of the lousy climate, the place was good for business. There's nothing like the sharp smell of formaldehyde or the depressing sheen of hospital-tiled halls to make the drudgery of chasing down dead leads seem like inspired work. But as they say, that's where the bodies are. That, and I got to see my buddy Claire. There wasn't much to say about Claire Washburn, except that she was brilliant, totally accomplished, and absolutely my best friend in the world. For six years, she had been the city's chief medical examiner, which everyone in Homicide knew was as under deserving a title as there was, since she virtually ran the office for Anthony Righetti. Righetti is her overbearing, power-thumping, credit-stealing boss, but Claire rarely complains. In our book, Claire is the Office of the Coroner. But maybe the idea of a female M.E. still didn't cut it, even in San Francisco. Female, and black. When Raleigh and I arrived, we were ushered into Claire's office. She was wearing her white doctor's coat with the nickname "Butterfly" embroidered on the upper-left pocket. The first thing you noticed about Claire was that she was carrying fifty pounds she didn't need. "I'm in shape," she always joked. "Round's a shape." The second was her bright, confident demeanor. You knew she couldn't give a damn. She had the body of a Brahman, the mind of a hawk, and the gentle soul of a butterfly. As we walked in, she gave me a weary but satisfied smile, as if she'd been up working most of the night. I introduced Raleigh, and Claire flashed me an impressed wag of the eyes. Whatever I had accumulated over the years in street smarts, she threw off in natural wisdom. How she balanced the demands of her job, and placating her credit-seeking boss, with raising two teenage kids was a marvel. And her marriage to Edmund, who played bass drum for the San Francisco Symphony Orchestra, gave me faith that there was still some hope for the institution. "I've been expecting you," she said as we hugged. "I called you last night from here. Didn't you get the message?" With her comforting arms around me, a flood of emotion welled up. I wanted to tell her everything. If it weren't for Raleigh, I think I would've spilled it all- Orenthaler, Negli's -right there. "I was beat," I answered. "And beat up. Long, tough day." "Don't tell me." Raleigh chuckled. "You guys have met." "Standard autopsy preparation." Claire gri