Public Secrets Part 277

your chances on the street. We've always got room for one more at the

morgue." He listened as he pushed through the files. "Good choice. Ask

for Detective Kesselring."

Michael hung up and scowled at the paperwork. He'd hoped for five

minutes to call Emma, but the odds were against it. Resigned, he tuned

out the noise of the squad room and went for the mail first.

"Hey, Kesselring, we need your ten bucks for the Christmas party."

Michael decided if he heard the word "Christmas" again, he'd shoot

somebody. Preferably Santa himself "McCarthy owes me twenty. Get 't

from him."

"Hey." Hearing his name, McCarthy wandered over. "Where's your holiday

spirit?"

"In your wallet," Michael told him.

"Still sulking 'cause his lady's going to spend Christmas in London?

Lighten up, Kesselring, the world's full of blondes."

"Kiss off."

McCarthy put a hand over his heart. "Must be love."

Ignoring him, Michael studied the manila envelope. It was odd when he

was thinking such dark thoughts about London that he would get a letter

from that city. A law firm, he mused, skimming the return address. What

would a London law firm want with him? When he opened it, he found a

cover letter and an envelope in shades of pink and blue. Turning the

envelope over, he saw another return address in fancy script. Jane

Palmer.

Though he wasn't a superst.i.tious man, he stared at the envelope for

several minutes, thinking about messages from the dead. He slit it open

and studied the cramped handwriting. Within five minutes, he was

standing in his father's office watching Lou read the letter.

Dear Detective Kesselring,

You investigated the death of Brian Mc,4voy's son. I'm sure

you remember the case. I remember it also. If you're still

interested, you should come to London and talk to me. I know

all about it. It was my idea, but they made a mess of it. If you

will pay for information, we can work out a deal.

Yours truly,

Jane Palmer

"What do you think?" Michael demanded.

"I think she might have known something." Lou adjusted his gla.s.ses and

read the letter through again. "She was six thousand miles away when it

went down, and we could never tie her to it. But He had always

wondered.

"The first postmark's just a few days before her body was found.

According to the lawyers the letter bounced around because of the

incomplete address then ended up with the rest of her papers. Over

eight months," Michael said in disgust.

"I'm not sure it would have made a difference if it had been eight days.

She'd still have been dead."

"If she was telling the truth and knew who killed the kid, someone could

have gotten to her. Someone who didn't know she'd send off a letter. I

want to see the report, talk to the investigating officer."