Half Moon Bay by Jonathan Kellerman, Jesse Kellerman (Clay Edison #3)
English | 2020|Mystery, Thriller, Suspense| ePUB | 5.9 MB
Jonathan Kellerman is the #1 New York Times bestselling author of more than three dozen bestselling crime novels, including the Alex Delaware series, The Butcher’s Theater, Billy Straight, The Conspiracy Club, Twisted, True Detectives, and The Murderer’s Daughter. With his wife, bestselling novelist Faye Kellerman, he co-authored Double Homicide and Capital Crimes. With his son, bestselling novelist Jesse Kellerman, he co-authored The Golem of Hollywood and The Golem of Paris. He is also the author of two children’s books and numerous nonfiction works, including Savage Spawn: Reflections on Violent Children and With Strings Attached: The Art and Beauty of Vintage Guitars. He has won the Goldwyn, Edgar, and Anthony awards and has been nominated for a Shamus Award. Jonathan and Faye Kellerman live in California, New Mexico, and New York
He introduced himself as George Greenspan, UC Berkeley executive vice chancellor. Straight gray hair, combed back and sprayed, hardly moved as he pumped our arms. He was delighted to meet us.
Likewise UCPD chief Vogel and Dana Simon, VP of operations for Siefkin Brothers, Builders: delighted, just delighted.
The less-than-delighted guy in cargo pants was the foreman, Arriola. He nodded curtly and trudged off to the trailers to fetch us protective gear.
Dana Simon flashed an apologetic smile. “Liability.”
Meanwhile the pair in the pit had stood up: first, a handsome man in his late thirties; man-bun, trail shoes, gray Irish fisherman’s sweater, gray wide-wale corduroys. He came to the edge of the pit and rested on his elbows on the grass, like a swimmer taking a break from laps.
Greenspan said, “Professor Kai MacLeod, one of our rising stars. He won’t tell you that, so I will. And his grad student—eh?”
“Chloe Bellara,” MacLeod said. “One of my stars.”
The elfin young woman behind him gazed shyly at the ground, her hands retracted into the sleeves of an oversized flannel shirt.
“I hope you don’t mind,” Greenspan said. “I invited them because, frankly, I know nothing about this. It’s Kai’s area of expertise. This way we all get to learn something.”
Sibley squirmed helplessly.
“Your area of expertise is People’s Park?” I said to MacLeod.
“Classical Mesoamerica,” he said, scratching three days’ worth of blond beard.
“Okay,” I said. “First, I need you to tell me if you touched anything.”
“Oh no, no, no.”
“Then we’ll take it from here.”
MacLeod said, “We’re happy to stay and pitch in.”
“That won’t be necessary, Professor.”
“I’ve done my fair share of fieldwork. You can use my kit, if you’d like. The brushes are badger hair. Handmade in Italy.”
“Ours are nylon,” I said. “Machine-made in China.”
MacLeod gave a good-natured chuckle. He hoisted himself out of the pit, then turned to offer his grad student a hand up.
“Kai?” Greenspan asked. “Thoughts?”
MacLeod dusted off his pants. “You’re fine. Whatever’s in there is clearly modern.”
“Excellent. When do we think we’ll be able to start work again?”
Chief Vogel said, “Typically no more than a day or two.”
Davenport said, “With respect, sir, this is a Coroner’s case now. Nobody’s doing anything until further notice.”
MacLeod said, “I’m reasonably certain the Ohlone didn’t use polyester.”
The foreman returned with our protective gear slung over his shoulder.
“I hear that you’re eager to get back on track,” I said, struggling to get my vest on. It was a normal-sized vest, for normal-sized people. “The sooner we start, the quicker it goes.”
Greenspan gestured grandly. “As you will.”
Davenport and I hopped into the pit. She began taking pictures, and I crouched to examine the blanket.
Under the work lights, it seemed a gaudy, unreal thing, fibers matted with mud and exuding a swamp mustiness, the decorative satin edging fever-sheened.
A splinter of bone, dull and yellow as old ivory, shot free of the cocoon.
Examination of skeletal remains begins with three questions.