Breach of Duty (9780061739637) Read Online Free PDF Page A

reviewing her notes on the Ferman homicide, covering everything that had happened once I left town.
    These days we’re all supposed to carry around little laptop computers which the city, after great debate, purchased for use by its law enforcement officers. And we do carry them—far more than we use them. Both Sue’s and mine were safely stowed in the trunk of the Caprice we were currently driving. That’s where they usually ended up—in whatever trunk happened to be available.
    Computers are good for lots of things, but not in the world of homicide investigations. For detectives, nothing beats a notebook and pencil. They’re portable, cheap, accessible, never have those pesky General Protection Faults, and they take no time at all to boot up. In my opinion, if a cop wants to go really high tech, all he has to do is invest in a ballpoint pen, which is exactly why Sue was reading to me from her trusty notebook.
    â€œAccording to what I have here, Agnes was sixtyseven years old at the time of her death. She was a widow. Her husband died several years ago—1993. No children, but her survivors include a brother and a sister. The brother—Andrew George—lives in Everett. Hilda Smathers, the sister, lives somewhere up around Marysville. She’s the one who provided the ME’s office with the name of Agnes Ferman’s dentist. His records confirmed identification of the body. At the family’s request, no services are scheduled.”
    â€œThe old guy who reported the fire, the one who was out of bed because his dog needed to take a leak. What’s his name again?”
    â€œI have no idea what the dog’s name is,” Sue responded dryly. “The man’s name is Malcolm Lawrence.”
    â€œRight. Have you talked to him?”
    â€œNot since you and I did Tuesday afternoon,” Sue replied.
    â€œThat means nobody’s interviewed him since the money was found?”
    â€œRight. Marian Rockwell may have spoken to him. If so, she didn’t mention it in her report.”
    â€œLet’s start with Malcolm,” I told her. “After that, we’ll talk to some of the other neighbors as well. And if we finish canvassing the neighborhood early enough, we’ll head up north to see the brother and sister.”
    That’s how homicide investigations work. We start by talking to the neighbors—to people who live or work near the scene of the crime and who may have seen something out of the ordinary around the time the murder took place. From there we gradually expand the inquiry to include relatives, friends, and as many known associates as possible. Interviewing relatives can often be the tricky part of the deal since, more than occasionally, the person nearest and dearest to the victim also happens to be the murderer.
    According to Sue’s notes Malcolm Lawrence had spotted the fire and reported it right around 5:30 A.M. By the time responding fire units arrived, the house was fully engulfed. That meant the arsonist had come and gone sometime earlier. In the middle of the night, there’s not much hope of a neighbor being up and seeing something, but it does happen. On the other hand, I’ve had more than one case solved by an alert newspaper-delivery kid who was smart enough to pay attention to what was going on around him—to an unfamiliar vehicle or to unusual activity in an otherwise sleeping neighborhood.
    â€œLet’s be sure to check with the newspaper carrier,” I said.
    â€œRight,” Sue agreed, scribbling a note. “I meant to do that on Friday, but I ended up cataloging serial numbers instead.”
    We pulled up in front of what was left of Agnes Ferman’s house. On Tuesday an old battered Lincoln had been sitting on the parking strip. “Where’s the car?” I asked.
    â€œI had it towed into the garage so we could check it for prints.”
    We had no sooner parked the Caprice where the