P is for Peril
P is for Peril
“It was now fully dark, close to eight P.M. The coroner’s car, the mobile crime lab, and a Ford sedan were parked on the berm, along with two patrol cars with red-and-blue bar lights flashing, radios squawking insistently between spurts of static. Two uniformed officers stood together talking while the police dispatcher, like a barker, issued a monotonous, nonstop account of crimes and misdemeanors in progress: complaints about noise, a call reporting a domestic disturbance in another part of to...wn, a prowler, a drunk urinating on a public street. Santa Teresa is a town of eighty-five thousand with more crimes against property than crimes against persons.
Five minutes after I’d spotted the submerged Mercedes, I’d scrambled up the hill and down the other side to the road. I’d crossed and climbed Fiona’s stairs two at a time, not pausing for breath until I reached the top. I pounded on her front door and rang the bell simultaneously,willing her to respond. I’d been reluctant to leave the scene unattended, but I had to notify the cops.MoreLess
Five minutes after I’d spotted the submerged Mercedes, I’d scrambled up the hill and down the other side to the road. I’d crossed and climbed Fiona’s stairs two at a time, not pausing for breath until I reached the top. I pounded on her front door and rang the bell simultaneously,willing her to respond. I’d been reluctant to leave the scene unattended, but I had to notify the cops.MoreLess
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