Dead center by David Rosenfelt

Author:David Rosenfelt [David Rosenfelt]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Policier
ISBN: 9780446614511
Published: 2007-05-01T07:00:00+00:00

• • • • •

THE PHONE WAKES us just before midnight. I answer it, and an official-sounding voice I don’t recognize asks for “Acting Chief Collins.” That’s quite a coincidence, since at this very moment I’m sleeping with an Acting Chief Collins. It’s a requirement for Acting Chief Collins and all other officers that they leave word as to where they can be reached at all times. It must be somewhat uncomfortable for her to have to leave my number, but she has done so.

I hand the phone to Laurie, whose voice sounds wide awake and does not betray the fact that she has been sleeping. “Collins here.”

She listens for a few moments, then says, “I’ll be right there.” She hangs up and immediately starts to get dressed. I like watching her get dressed; it’s my second favorite thing to watch, with her getting undressed maintaining a comfortable lead in first place.

“What happened?” I ask.

“Some kind of traffic accident. Car on Highway 11 went off the road.”

“And the chief has to go out to handle a traffic accident?”

She shrugs. “It’s a small town, Andy. And it must be a bad accident.”

Laurie’s out of the house within ten minutes, and I’m back asleep within eleven. As I doze off, I realize that I might not be a good chief of police. If I got woken up by a call informing me of a traffic accident, I would tell them to call AAA and I’d go back to sleep.

The clock says that I’ve been asleep for two hours when I hear Laurie come back into the house. She hadn’t said she was coming back, and I’m pleased that she chose to. I slide over to give her room to get into bed when I realize the person entering the house could be Marcus. I slide back, just in case.

I turn on the light and am relieved to see that it is Laurie entering the bedroom. That relief is short-lived when I see her face; I know this woman well, and I know that something is wrong. Horribly wrong.

“Andy, I’ve got something to tell you,” she says.

“What is it? What’s the matter?”

“It’s Calvin Marshall. He’s dead.”

Her words hit me like a punch in the side of the head. A punch so jarring it feels like it could have been thrown by Marcus. “How?” is the longest sentence I can muster.

“Get dressed,” she says. “I’ll tell you on the way.”

“On the way where?”

“To the scene.”

Once we’re in the car, Laurie says, “His car went off the road and down an embankment. His neck was apparently snapped on impact.”

“I see,” I say, even though I don’t.

“You think that might be too easy an explanation?” she asks.

I nod. “Perhaps a tad.”

“You don’t believe in coincidences? You don’t think it’s likely that a lawyer investigating a recent murder who is himself suddenly killed might be the victim of a tragic accident?”

“I don’t,” I say, “and you don’t either.”

“Why do you say that?” she asks.

“Because you’re taking me to the scene.

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