“Len, do you have a second?” Mike asked, resting his hip on the edge of the detective’s desk. It was late Monday morning; he was on his lunch break and praying he wouldn’t be called out on a new case until he had the chance to do what he and Sage had planned.
“For you, sure. What do you need?” Len replied.
“You caught the Kurt Foster case, right?” When Len nodded, Mike asked, “Are you sure it was suicide?”
“According to the coroner it was that or accidental. Why?”
“I knew him. Not well, but he never struck me as the kind of guy who’d kill himself.”
“That doesn’t rule out accidental drowning.”
“True,” Mike agreed. “But something doesn’t feel right to me. Would you think I was stepping on your toes if I talked with the coroner?”
“Not at all. I’m going to close the case and call it sui
