The back double doors opened and the coroner emerged. He was a slight man, with curly hair and a petulant lower lip.
He wore a whitish uniform that identified him as Brodeur, so she looked him up while she watched and discovered he was Ethan Brodeur, who had been with the coroner’s office for ten years.
That little detail, at least, made her calm down.
“What the hell is this all about?” Brodeur snapped at the attendant. “Where’s your vehicle?”
“It left an hour ago.” The attendant’s voice was calm, but his cheeks were growing red. “And don’t yell at me. These good people— lawyers all —had called in the emergency over two hours ago. We got here as fast as we could, but no one else is responding.”
“What is wrong with the Armstrong PD?” Brodeur asked. He snapped his fingers and a younger man emerged from the back of the van, carrying some equipment.
“Um, that’s the issue,” the attendant said. “I’m going to send you security footage from this building.”
Seng nodded despite herself. That was what the attendant should have done. She hoped he used a secure link, something the Armstrong Police Department couldn’t access easily.
But that wasn’t her problem, at least, not at the moment.
Brodeur started in shock, gave the attendant a sharp look, and then shook his head once.
“Well,” Brodeur said. “That explains it.”
“Explains what?” the attendant asked.
“Why I got the call from APD.” Brodeur smiled wryly. His gaze swept the area, meeting Seng’s for just a moment, as if he wanted her to hear what he was going to say next. “They don’t like me in the police department. They actively try to keep me off cases.”
Seng let out a small breath.
“What does that mean?” Rosen whispered to her.
She shook her head, trying to silence him. She had an idea. She suspected they didn’t like this coroner because his exams didn’t hold up in court, the police felt he was doing a sloppy job, or because he had caught the police doing something shady in the past.
She voted for competence. Because the coroner was aware that the police didn’t like him, which incompetents usually didn’t notice.
Still, she made a note.
“You don’t need me anymore, right?” the attendant said. “I mean, I shouldn’t have been here anyway, but someone had to keep an eye on this crime scene.”
“You did a good job,” Brodeur said, then patted the attendant on the arm. The gesture probably hadn’t been meant as patronizing, but it was.
Brodeur didn’t notice the attendant’s grimace. Brodeur was already looking at the body.
He crouched beside it, holding a position that allowed Seng to see what was going on. The ambulance attendant half-walked, half-ran down the sidewalk. He was probably going to catch one of the local trains that ran a few blocks from here.
No one except Seng watched him go. Then she turned her attention back to Brodeur.
“Never seen anything like it,” Brodeur was saying to his assistant. “The cops aren’t like that in this city.”
The assistant, a young man with jug ears and a large nose that could have used some judicious cropping, clearly hadn’t seen the footage. He looked confused.
“What are you talking about?” he asked.
Brodeur was taking imagery of the body, passing his hands over it, getting in situ stills. Seng hadn’t seen a technique like that since she worked in New York, years ago.
“Don’t you recognize this guy?” Brodeur’s voice rose. He wanted all three lawyers to hear this. What was he about? “He’s the one who came to the station, and to our office, with injunctions.”
“He works for the clones ?” The assistant looked down at Zhu as if he had some kind of plague. “Is that why the cops won’t come to the murder site?”
“I don’t know what they’re thinking,” Brodeur said, “but this guy sure didn’t make any friends in Armstrong.”
Then he stood and grabbed something that looked like a pipette
He wore a whitish uniform that identified him as Brodeur, so she looked him up while she watched and discovered he was Ethan Brodeur, who had been with the coroner’s office for ten years.
That little detail, at least, made her calm down.
“What the hell is this all about?” Brodeur snapped at the attendant. “Where’s your vehicle?”
“It left an hour ago.” The attendant’s voice was calm, but his cheeks were growing red. “And don’t yell at me. These good people— lawyers all —had called in the emergency over two hours ago. We got here as fast as we could, but no one else is responding.”
“What is wrong with the Armstrong PD?” Brodeur asked. He snapped his fingers and a younger man emerged from the back of the van, carrying some equipment.
“Um, that’s the issue,” the attendant said. “I’m going to send you security footage from this building.”
Seng nodded despite herself. That was what the attendant should have done. She hoped he used a secure link, something the Armstrong Police Department couldn’t access easily.
But that wasn’t her problem, at least, not at the moment.
Brodeur started in shock, gave the attendant a sharp look, and then shook his head once.
“Well,” Brodeur said. “That explains it.”
“Explains what?” the attendant asked.
“Why I got the call from APD.” Brodeur smiled wryly. His gaze swept the area, meeting Seng’s for just a moment, as if he wanted her to hear what he was going to say next. “They don’t like me in the police department. They actively try to keep me off cases.”
Seng let out a small breath.
“What does that mean?” Rosen whispered to her.
She shook her head, trying to silence him. She had an idea. She suspected they didn’t like this coroner because his exams didn’t hold up in court, the police felt he was doing a sloppy job, or because he had caught the police doing something shady in the past.
She voted for competence. Because the coroner was aware that the police didn’t like him, which incompetents usually didn’t notice.
Still, she made a note.
“You don’t need me anymore, right?” the attendant said. “I mean, I shouldn’t have been here anyway, but someone had to keep an eye on this crime scene.”
“You did a good job,” Brodeur said, then patted the attendant on the arm. The gesture probably hadn’t been meant as patronizing, but it was.
Brodeur didn’t notice the attendant’s grimace. Brodeur was already looking at the body.
He crouched beside it, holding a position that allowed Seng to see what was going on. The ambulance attendant half-walked, half-ran down the sidewalk. He was probably going to catch one of the local trains that ran a few blocks from here.
No one except Seng watched him go. Then she turned her attention back to Brodeur.
“Never seen anything like it,” Brodeur was saying to his assistant. “The cops aren’t like that in this city.”
The assistant, a young man with jug ears and a large nose that could have used some judicious cropping, clearly hadn’t seen the footage. He looked confused.
“What are you talking about?” he asked.
Brodeur was taking imagery of the body, passing his hands over it, getting in situ stills. Seng hadn’t seen a technique like that since she worked in New York, years ago.
“Don’t you recognize this guy?” Brodeur’s voice rose. He wanted all three lawyers to hear this. What was he about? “He’s the one who came to the station, and to our office, with injunctions.”
“He works for the clones ?” The assistant looked down at Zhu as if he had some kind of plague. “Is that why the cops won’t come to the murder site?”
“I don’t know what they’re thinking,” Brodeur said, “but this guy sure didn’t make any friends in Armstrong.”
Then he stood and grabbed something that looked like a pipette
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