Wednesday, May 5th 7:45A.M.

Detective David Dean sat in the Parkside Pennsylvania Police Headquarters with his feet in his lower desk drawer. He was slowly picking pieces of Styrofoam flotsam from his early morning cup of black coffee. Years from now, when he was comfortably ensconced in his Ouray, Colorado bed and breakfast, he'd often look back on this day as the turning point in his life, but for now it was only the start of yet another five work days.

He had awakened a few moments before the usual time, ordi­narily a good sign, but after rubbing open his eyes, he discovered it was a white day, hazy and sultry, without a speck of blue in the sky. White days weren't supposed to show up until at least July, certainly not in early May. Dean felt cheated, doubly so because yesterday, a comp day off, it had rained as if St. Swithin was ticked off at the world, denying him the pleasure of biking the Pennsylvania countryside. So, when the alarm shrilled its two cents' worth, Dean had cussed the sadist who invented it and fig­ured it wasn't going to be a pleasant Wednesday.

Fellow detectives Tom DeLeo and Andy Sackler, seated across the room, were arguing as usual while the only other occupant, newcomer Detective Lenny Harrigan, was either catching a quick nap or meditating. Harrigan was usually Dean's partner but Dean was content to work alone often, while Harrigan was happy to pick up odd chores the other more senior detectives would toss his way.

Rita Angeltoni, the token skirt, as she referred to herself, was usually there banging on her keyboard or answering the phone while keeping the quartet in line. Today she was absent, home nursing child number five, down with a spring fever, or just plain Spring Fever.

"It's a skip case," DeLeo said with a know-it-all air that defied anyone to doubt him. "A skip case, pure and simple. The guy got sick of looking at the old lady and took a hike."

Sackler shook his head. "DeLeo, you have an opinion about everything, whether you know a damn thing about it or not. And you sure don't know a damn thing about this case." Sackler, easily baited by DeLeo, was quick to show his temper.

"I know you don't go for a midnight swim on a dark beach by yourself, especially in the Chesapeake Bay." Then he added for emphasis, "That's where Philadelphia flushes its toilets."

"Your geography isn't even right," Sackler answered. "Besides, the Norfolk cops said the guy had a snoot-full of booze."

DeLeo tilted his head back, finishing the last of his coffee. "I'll believe it when they fish his body out of the drink, which they won't, 'cause it ain't there."




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