A More Perfect Union Read Free Page A

looked from Derrick to Manny and back again.
    "Witness?" Kramer asked.
    Manny glanced in my direction then shook his head. "It's nothing," he said. "I was just lining Beau and his friend here up for a friendly game of golf."
    Partnerships, like some marriages, aren't always made in heaven. Manny and Kramer's working relationship was evidently an uneasy one.
    I understood the situation. So did Derrick. We both had sense enough to keep our mouths shut.

CHAPTER  2

    C rime-scene investigation is an exact science, complicated by the countervailing demands of accepted protocol and a need for swift, definitive action. What may seem absolutely straightforward in an artificial laboratory situation or in a case study at the police academy becomes less clear-cut in the real world. At crime scenes, hard-and-fast rules of evidentiary procedure often fall victim to jurisdictional disputes and personality conflicts. After all, cops are people too.
    In this particular instance, the infighting started immediately after the arrival of an investigator from the Medical Examiner's office. Her name was Audrey Cummings, and she turned up almost on the heels of Detectives Kramer and Davis. As soon as Paul Kramer noticed her, he took offense and attacked.
    "Who called you in?" he demanded. The question and the way he asked it were both only one step under rude.
    Officer Merrilee Jackson had followed Kramer down the dock. Now she stepped forward, ready to accept full responsibility. "I did, Detective Kramer. It seemed like a good idea."
    "That decision is supposed to be left up to the detectives," Kramer snapped, irritation sharp in his tone.
    "Sorry," she answered.
    "Don't worry about it," Manny put in quickly to Officer Jackson. "You were right. We do need her, and it's a good thing she's here. It'll save time." He turned to Kramer. "Don't get your bowels in an uproar, Paul," he said.
    The admonition came too late. Detective Kramer is one of those intense, territorial individuals who can't stand having other people set foot on his private turf. As far as I'm concerned, he's in the wrong business. Murders seldom come posted with "No Trespassing" signs. In fact, at that very moment, Seattle's media clan, alerted by the sudden surge of mid-afternoon activity, was beginning to gather in a disorderly knot just outside Kramer's line of vision. Woody Carroll was doing his best to keep them herded together behind a blockade of police vehicles.
    The lady from the medical examiner's office, a mid-fifties dame who had been around more than the barn, remained cool and collected in the face of all the wrangling. Audrey Cummings' studied disinterest made it clear that professional squabbles were old hat to her.
    Waiting until the fireworks died down, she finally tapped one foot impatiently. "Well, do I get a look or not?" she asked.
    Manny grinned and made a low bow, stepping aside with a gallant sweep of his arm. "Please be our guest, milady," he declared.
    Smiling at Manny's courtly gesture, Audrey Cummings marched past us in a suitably regal manner. In the world of homicide, where death and disaster are daily companions, we tend to take our laughs wherever we can find them.
    Audrey good-naturedly joined in Manny's joke, but only up to a point. The fun ended the moment she reached the edge of the dock. There she knelt down on one knee and took a long, careful look at the body in the water below her. At last she stood up and walked back to where we waited.
    "I'll have to have one of the assistant medical examiners come take a look at this," she said. "I think Mike Wilson is on call."
    "Any obvious wounds?" I asked, as she started to walk away.
    She shrugged. "Possible homicidal violence."
    The words "homicidal violence" constitute a catchall phrase that can mean anything or nothing.
    Paul Kramer frowned, jerking his head in my direction. "Wait just a damn minute here. How come he's asking questions, Manny? I thought this was our case."
    Manny made little