Glenlivet rather than MacNaughton's. He seemed to enjoy slumming in some of my favorite watering holes. The waitresses at the Doghouse still hadn't tumbled to the fact that he was a genuine celebrity. Parker said he wanted to keep it that way.
"Who was he?" Parker asked, nodding toward the water.
"The dead man?" I shrugged. "That's up to the medical examiner and the detectives on the case."
"But you're a detective, aren't you?" Parker objected.
"This isn't my case. I'm doing a movie, remember?"
Officer Jackson came back to where we were standing. She gave Derrick Parker a small, tentative smile. I'm sure she recognized him, but when she spoke, Merrilee Jackson was strictly business. "They're all on their way."
"All?" I asked.
"Someone's coming from the medical examiner's office. So are two detectives. Davis and Kramer."
It wasn't exactly by the book, but Officer Jackson had taken a little initiative, and calling everybody at once would probably save time.
I nodded. "Good," I said. "By the way, we haven't been introduced. I'm Detective J. P. Beaumont, and this is Derrick Parker."
She held out her hand. "Merrilee Jackson," she said, shaking my hand, but flashing Parker a wide grin. "I'm glad to meet you."
Merrilee Jackson didn't comment aloud on Derrick Parker's star status, and neither did Baxter. They had other things to worry about. A crowd of movie crew members was edging closer. "We'd better get these people moved back out of the way," Baxter said. "The M. E.'s van will need to pull up close to the water."
They had barely turned their attention to crowd control when another car with lights flashing and siren blaring pulled onto the dock. Detective Manny Davis got out on the rider's side and strode over to me while Detective Paul Kramer stopped to talk with Officers Jackson and Baxter.
"How's it going, Beau?" Manny asked with a chuckle. "How soon are we going to see your name in lights?"
"Cut the comedy, Manny."
"But I heard you were enjoying the movie business."
I glowered at him.
"Okay, okay," he said. "No big. What have we got, fish bait?"
"That's right. A floater."
Manny sauntered over to the edge of the dock and looked into the water. "He's been in the water awhile," Manny observed. As if to confirm his words, the wind shifted just then and the pungent odor of putrid flesh wafted over us like an ill-smelling cloud. Fortunately, Goldfarb had led Cassie away by then. Had she been within range, I'm sure she would have barfed again.
One whiff and Derrick Parker's engaging smile vanished completely.
"Jesus," he said with a grimace. "That's awful." He started to back away, but Manny stopped him.
"Hey, wait a minute. Aren't you…" Manny paused, searching for the name, then broke off, embarrassed.
"Derrick Parker?" Parker finished for him. He sighed. "Yes, that's me," he said, and held out his hand.
Manny shook it wonderingly. "You know, my wife's crazy about you, your pictures, I mean," he said. "She was pissed as hell that Beau got this assignment and I didn't." Manny groped in his pocket for the small notebook he carried there. He found it at last and tore out a page which he handed to Derrick. "Could I have your autograph? For my wife, I mean. She'd be thrilled."
Obligingly, Derrick took the paper. Using the back of Manny's notebook as a writing surface, he scrawled his name. He was just giving the autographed sheet of paper back to Manny when Paul Kramer showed up.
Manny Davis has been around the department for years. The last time I had worked with him had been several years earlier on a bum-bashing case. Paul Kramer was the new kid on the block, and I use the word kid advisedly. He was thirty years old and had just moved up to homicide from robbery. His rise to detective had been meteoric, but word was out around the squad that working with Kramer was a royal pain in the ass.
Kramer arrived just in time to see Manny taking the piece of paper from Derrick and stuffing it in his pocket. He
"Who was he?" Parker asked, nodding toward the water.
"The dead man?" I shrugged. "That's up to the medical examiner and the detectives on the case."
"But you're a detective, aren't you?" Parker objected.
"This isn't my case. I'm doing a movie, remember?"
Officer Jackson came back to where we were standing. She gave Derrick Parker a small, tentative smile. I'm sure she recognized him, but when she spoke, Merrilee Jackson was strictly business. "They're all on their way."
"All?" I asked.
"Someone's coming from the medical examiner's office. So are two detectives. Davis and Kramer."
It wasn't exactly by the book, but Officer Jackson had taken a little initiative, and calling everybody at once would probably save time.
I nodded. "Good," I said. "By the way, we haven't been introduced. I'm Detective J. P. Beaumont, and this is Derrick Parker."
She held out her hand. "Merrilee Jackson," she said, shaking my hand, but flashing Parker a wide grin. "I'm glad to meet you."
Merrilee Jackson didn't comment aloud on Derrick Parker's star status, and neither did Baxter. They had other things to worry about. A crowd of movie crew members was edging closer. "We'd better get these people moved back out of the way," Baxter said. "The M. E.'s van will need to pull up close to the water."
They had barely turned their attention to crowd control when another car with lights flashing and siren blaring pulled onto the dock. Detective Manny Davis got out on the rider's side and strode over to me while Detective Paul Kramer stopped to talk with Officers Jackson and Baxter.
"How's it going, Beau?" Manny asked with a chuckle. "How soon are we going to see your name in lights?"
"Cut the comedy, Manny."
"But I heard you were enjoying the movie business."
I glowered at him.
"Okay, okay," he said. "No big. What have we got, fish bait?"
"That's right. A floater."
Manny sauntered over to the edge of the dock and looked into the water. "He's been in the water awhile," Manny observed. As if to confirm his words, the wind shifted just then and the pungent odor of putrid flesh wafted over us like an ill-smelling cloud. Fortunately, Goldfarb had led Cassie away by then. Had she been within range, I'm sure she would have barfed again.
One whiff and Derrick Parker's engaging smile vanished completely.
"Jesus," he said with a grimace. "That's awful." He started to back away, but Manny stopped him.
"Hey, wait a minute. Aren't you…" Manny paused, searching for the name, then broke off, embarrassed.
"Derrick Parker?" Parker finished for him. He sighed. "Yes, that's me," he said, and held out his hand.
Manny shook it wonderingly. "You know, my wife's crazy about you, your pictures, I mean," he said. "She was pissed as hell that Beau got this assignment and I didn't." Manny groped in his pocket for the small notebook he carried there. He found it at last and tore out a page which he handed to Derrick. "Could I have your autograph? For my wife, I mean. She'd be thrilled."
Obligingly, Derrick took the paper. Using the back of Manny's notebook as a writing surface, he scrawled his name. He was just giving the autographed sheet of paper back to Manny when Paul Kramer showed up.
Manny Davis has been around the department for years. The last time I had worked with him had been several years earlier on a bum-bashing case. Paul Kramer was the new kid on the block, and I use the word kid advisedly. He was thirty years old and had just moved up to homicide from robbery. His rise to detective had been meteoric, but word was out around the squad that working with Kramer was a royal pain in the ass.
Kramer arrived just in time to see Manny taking the piece of paper from Derrick and stuffing it in his pocket. He
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