Spiral

geography?”
    Just the barest twitch of a smile. ”I had a brother went to Vietnam, and you’re the right age, so how about just rank.”
    ”Lieutenant mostly, captain for a while.”
    Cascadden said, ”And that’s supposed to make you some kind of expert?”
    I leaned forward in my chair, elbows on knees, hands spread. ”Look, we can spar, and probably you can win this round. But that means I go back with thin soup for a report, and you’ll get told to entertain me all over again, only with a little more enthusiasm. So, why don’t we just get to it, save everybody another sit-down?”
    Cascadden glared at me. Pintana picked up a pencil and began tapping its eraser against gleaming, even teeth. She said, ”Let’s see your identification.”
    I passed the Boston version across the desk, Cascadden leaning over her left shoulder to read it. I could see his lips moving as Pintana said, ”We were told you’d have Florida papers.”
    ”My guess is that Justo Vega will be able to produce them for you by the end of the day.”
    Cascadden shook his head, the hair at his collar picking up dull light from the windows. ”I say we throw this bozo out till he comes up with righteous ID.”
    ”We could, Kyle,” Pintana rising partway to hand my identification holder back to me. She had carefully manicured nails, short enough so that computer keyboards and gun trigger guards wouldn’t present a problem. ”But as Mr. Cuddy said, it would only postpone the inevitable. I say we talk with him and be rid of it.”
    Cascadden didn’t reply for a moment. Then, ”You’re the one passed the sergeant’s exam.”
    Pintana nodded to me. ”What do you want to know?”
    ”Might save all of us time if I got to see your file on this.”
    ”Not while I’m in this chair,” said Pintana.
    ”All right, then how about your view on what happened.”
    She folded her hands on top of the desk. Or, more accurately, on top of one of the papers covering it. ”Held, Veronica Janis, white female, was killed by drowning in the pool at her grandfather’s home. There were bruises on the ankles suggesting someone held her down there and forced her head under the water.”
    ”Prints?”
    ”Not thanks to the water. And the chlorine in it.” Cascadden said, ”Plus that houseboy fucked the crime scene all to hell.”
    I looked over. ”I don’t think Duy Tranh is a houseboy.” Going back to Pintana, I asked, ”Any trace evidence?”
    ”Pool, pool area, and filter checked carefully for fibers and hair. We found a catalog of them, which isn’t surprising, since just about everybody at the party or the house in general used the pool in the preceding twenty-four hours.”
    First no evidence, now too much. ”I understand the girl was sexually assaulted.”
    Pintana gave a sidelong look at Cascadden, but apparently her partner had learned at least something about sensitivity, because he didn’t say anything. She came back to me with, ”Sí. Evidence of violent penetration, no semen or other fluids.”
    ”Because of the pool water again?”
    ”Possibly, but the Medical Examiner did find traces of latex in the vagina, torn though it was.”
    ”A condom?”
    ”That is my belief. When I joined the unit as a detective, we were still responsible for child molestation and sexual battery as well as homicide.”
    ”Anything further from the autopsy?”
    ”Given lung and vaginal tissue, the M.E. feels the penetration probably occurred while the girl was struggling underwater.”
    The Skipper had said that, but it was still troubling, ”She was raped while the killer was drowning her?”
    Cascadden laughed. ”Or the fucking perp’ was getting his jollies, and he never noticed the kid wasn’t breathing real good.”
    I looked at Cascadden again. Police work, and especially homicide investigation, can harden you. But this ex-Marine seemed more amused than callous.
    He said, ”What’re you looking at, Beantown?”
    ”Nobody there calls it that.”
    ”Huh?”
    ”Nobody in Boston calls it ‘Beantown,’ any more than I’d call somebody down here a ‘redneck.’”
    Cascadden clenched his fists. ‘That what you’re calling me?”
    ”Kyle,” from Pintana.
    ”Huh, boy?” coming forward a step with the fists still clenched but not yet up. ”You calling me—”
    ”Kyle,” from Pintana, but with a little more juice behind it. ”Enough, okay?”
    Cascadden glanced at her, but kept his eyes mostly on mine, to make sure I knew he