By J.A. Jance
A surprising photograph screamed from front pages of the tabloids—the final moments of a existence captured for the entire global to determine. The glance of sheer terror forever frozen at the face of the doomed girl indicated that her deadly fall from an higher tale of an unfinished Seattle skyscraper used to be no determined suicide—and that glance will without end hang-out murder Detective J.P. Beaumont. yet his hunt for solutions and justice is resulting in extra dying, and to darkish and poor secrets and techniques scrupulously guarded through males of metal in the back of the locked doorways of a robust union that extracts its dues funds in blood.
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Nothing like that. I don't know what it is. I can't seem to get him out of my mind. " "It's no picnic," I said. " The conversation had set me to thinking about the dead man too. I remembered the sunlight glinting off his brass belt buckle. "He was an ironworker," I remarked offhandedly. Derrick looked thunderstruck. "One of those guys who builds tall buildings? The ones who walk out on those high beams? " I laughed. "His belt buckle," I said. " Derrick sounded disappointed, as though he had wanted my answer to be more exotic or complex, something brilliant out of Sherlock Holmes.
With a little help from his friends, J. P. Beaumont had won that round fair and square. I motioned for Officer Jackson. " Derrick was standing in a tight little threesome with Sam Goldfarb and Cassie Young. Officer Jackson looked where I pointed and nodded. "I see them," she said. "Go tell them to start getting their people lined up. " Merrilee Jackson flashed me a smile. "I'll be more than happy to do that," she said. Jim Harrison finished securing the body to the deck and straightened up. Catching sight of me, he gave me a half-assed salute.
My legs still quivered as misdirected adrenaline burned off through my system. I had to really concentrate before Merrilee Jackson's spoken words penetrated the fog of anger and made any sense. The Hiram Chittenden Locks form a narrow bottleneck between Lake Union and Shilshole Bay. The lake is freshwater and the bay is salt, a part of Puget Sound. The locks raise and lower boats to allow access between the two bodies of water. On sunny summer days, mobs of amateur water-jockeys and serious drinkers simultaneously attempt to maneuver their boats through the locks.