Until Proven Guilty Read Online Free PDF

here,” I said to Peters, grabbing up both the paper and the file. “This case has just become a media event.”
     
    I was pissed off as we headed for the elevator, pissed and looking for somebody to blame. Peters happened to be close at hand.
     
    “What’d you do?” I asked sarcastically. “Pick up the report on the way home and drop it by the newspaper just for fun?”
     
    Peters stopped in midstride and glared at me. “I thought maybe you did. Maxwell Cole isn’t an old fraternity buddy of mine.”
     
    I looked at the paper again. The byline was indeed Maxwell Cole’s. Somehow he had managed to worm his column onto the front page. He’s always there, just when I least need him.
     
    I backed off. “If you didn’t leak it, and I didn’t leak it, then somebody in the medical examiner’s office has a big mouth.”
     
    Peters looked somewhat mollified, but not totally so.
     
    The Public Safety Building has what are reputed to be the slowest elevators in Seattle, possibly in the Western Hemisphere. We were still in the lobby when Sergeant Watkins nailed us. “Where are you two running off to?” he asked.
     
    He was carrying a folded newspaper under his arm. “You’ve already read that?” I asked.
     
    “I’ve read it, Powell’s read it, the chief’s reading it even as we speak. You’d better come back and brief the captain before you take off. The press is going to be all over this place today.”
     
    Captain Powell’s office is as private as a glass fishbowl can be. We gave Sergeant Watkins and Powell a verbal rundown of what we knew, including what Jeremiah had told me about Faith Tabernacle and the good Pastor Michael Brodie. Powell took our copy of the preliminary report and read it through. “What was this Brodie character wearing yesterday when you saw him?” Powell asked.
     
    “Blue suit, white shirt, no tie.”
     
    “Long sleeves?”
     
    I nodded. The captain continued. “According to this, there were fragments of flesh under her fingernails. If he’s our man, there should be scratches showing.” You don’t get to be captain because you’re dumb. Powell rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Then there’s the hamburger, too. Where do you get a hamburger that early in the morning?”
     
    We theorized awhile longer before we finally made our getaway from the fifth floor and picked up a car from the motor pool. The motor pool is run on a strictly first-come, first-served basis. We were a long way from first served. The television shows that have the detectives driving the same high-powered vehicle week after week crack me up. They don’t live in the real world of city budgets. It must be nice. I’ve grown immune to cars. All that’s important to me is whether or not they run and have enough leg room. This one ran all right, but the leg room was sorely lacking. That happens a lot when you’re six-three.
     
    Peters drove, but not far. We stopped for breakfast. I washed down bacon and eggs with coffee while Peters told me about the dangers of cholesterol and the nitrate preservatives in bacon. I enjoyed the food, not the accompanying lecture. I missed Ray. He and I shared much the same vices as far as food was concerned.
     
    Over breakfast we decided to tackle the leak in the medical examiner’s office. A blabbermouth there or in the state crime laboratory could blow up a case before it ever hit prosecution. We drove up to Harborview Hospital on Capitol Hill and parked behind a car with a bumper sticker that said, “Have you hugged your medical examiner today?”
     
    Dr. Ralph Baker is in charge. He is a full-fledged physician and also an elected official. His jurisdiction covers all of King County and includes the city of Seattle. He glanced balefully up from some papers and looked at his watch as we were ushered into his cluttered office. “You’re late,” he growled. “I expected you half an hour ago.”
     
    “We stopped for breakfast.”
     
    He grunted. He reached