The Emerald Cat Killer Read Online Free PDF Page A

old structure on McKinley Avenue, the nearby replacement looked modern and efficient from the outside. From the inside it resembled a medieval dungeon. Well, progress was progress.
    Lindsey had phoned ahead and he was met by a uniformed sergeant who could have passed for a shaving-lotion model. If there were such things anymore. Blond, blue-eyed, clean-shaven, and wearing a uniform that must have been custom-fitted. He looked like a private eye from a Richard Prather paperback, suddenly drafted into the official police force.
    â€œOlaf Strombeck,” the shaving-lotion model introduced himself. They shook hands, exchanged business cards, and proceeded to Strombeck’s office, Lindsey now wearing a visitor’s badge on his jacket pocket. You would have thought they were a couple of Japanese businessmen meeting to cut a billion-dollar deal for some futuristic electronic gadget, not an insurance man and a detective sitting down to discuss a murder.
    Strombeck had pulled a file and laid it on his desk, but before opening it he said, “Mr. Lindsey, I don’t understand why you’re here, sir. This is a police matter. This is an open case. I’m not sure just how much information I can give you.”
    He put his hand, palm down, on top of the file folder.
    Lindsey nodded. “Candidly, I’m just getting started on this. International Surety held a life policy on Mr. Simmons. We paid his widow. As far as we’re concerned, that aspect of the case is over.”
    â€œThen—what?”
    â€œThere’s a threatened lawsuit, Mrs. Simmons and the Marston and Morse Publishing Company against Gordian House. International Surety has an indemnity policy with Gordian, and I’m gathering information to help us deal with that.”
    â€œI don’t get it.” Strombeck stood up. He took three steps to a hot plate where a pot of coffee was giving off a strong fragrance. “Like a cup, Mr. Lindsey?”
    Lindsey accepted. Drinking coffee wasn’t exactly breaking bread, but it was close. Anything to establish a bond. You could never tell when it would come in handy.
    Strombeck held his cup in front of his face, savored the odor, then lowered the cup to his desk. His uniform was severe. Midnight-blue shirt, polished badge, a little enamel rectangle that Lindsey recognized as the Medal of Valor. Those didn’t come easy, and in his experience, officers who received them seldom cared to talk about the reason.
    â€œI’m afraid this is getting close to a cold case. It’s been a year. The official line, of course, is that we never close a homicide case until we’ve solved it. But it’s also true that most murders are resolved quickly. And most of them are pretty straightforward. Domestic violence cases that get out of hand, vehicular homicides. Take away those two and we’d be down to a small fraction of our caseload. There are gang killings and holdups that go wrong. If you’re ever threatened, Mr. Lindsey, give the bad guy your wallet. It isn’t worth your life.”
    â€œI learned that lesson long ago,” Lindsey said.
    Strombeck resumed, “The longer a case goes unsolved, the less likely it is that we’ll find the perpetrator. And after a year, unless we catch a break through a DNA sample or—well, never mind the ‘or.’ I’m afraid the clearance rate on older homicides is not very good.”
    â€œUnderstand. Yes. Even so, I think these two cases are one, Sergeant.”
    Strombeck lifted blond eyebrows, then nodded encouragingly.
    â€œI’ve been talking with Mrs. Simmons.”
    â€œBe careful, Mr. Lindsey.” Strombeck was suddenly serious, more serious than he had been. “You’re treading on dangerous ground. This is still a police matter.” He paused. “And you are not a licensed investigator anyway, are you?”
    Lindsey shook his head. “I’m an insurance adjuster. Or was. Thought I