Part 277 (1/2)

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