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Ham held up a finger. “It’s a father’s right to know something about the man who’s screwing his daughter.”
“HAM!” she screamed.
Jackson broke up and started clearing the table. “I’m out of this,” he said. “You two can fight it out.”
“All right, all right,” Ham said placatingly. “I guess I know enough for now. I’ll ask him the rest when he comes to me and asks for your hand.”
“Arrrrrrghhhhh!!!” she yelled, throwing up her hands in exasperation.
“Oh,” Ham said, “on a different subject, you had a phone call at the crack of dawn this morning.” He dug a slip of paper out of his pocket and handed it to her. “Guy named Paul Green.”
“Doesn’t ring a bell,” Holly said, looking at the number. “Oh, it’s the hospital. Dr. Green. Maybe he’s got some news about Chet.” She went to the sofa, dialed the number and asked for Dr. Green.
“I’ll put you through to his home,” the operator said.
He answered on the first ring. “Green.”
“Dr. Green, it’s Holly Barker. You left a message for me.”
“Oh, Chief Barker, I’m sorry to have called so early. I seem to have woken up the gentleman who answered.”
“That’s all right, he’s my father.”
“I called with bad news, I’m afraid.”
Holly’s stomach tensed. “What’s happened?”
“Chief Marley arrested at six-twenty this morning. The team worked on him for nearly half an hour, and I came in, too, but we weren’t able to revive him. Official time of death was six forty-five. I’m very sorry.”
“Oh, God,” Holly said. “Did he ever regain consciousness at all?”
“I’m afraid not. Is there anything I can do?”
“No, Doctor. Thank you for calling me immediately. I’ll make the announcement through the department, and someone will be in touch with the hospital about the arrangements.” She hung up. Jackson and Ham were standing there, looking at her.
“Is is Chet?” Ham asked.
Holly nodded. “He died at six forty-five this morning.”
“Shit and goddamnit!” Ham spat, stomping his foot. “He deserved better than that.”
“He sure did,” Holly said. The two men sat down, silent. Nobody spoke for a couple of minutes. “I’d better call the station,” Holly said. She called in, dictated a short press release and told the operator to post it on the bulletin board and fax it to the local media. “And post a notice that we’ll have a departmental meeting tomorrow morning, at the change of shift. I want everybody there.” She called Hurd Wallace and Jane Grey and gave them the news. Jane burst into tears; it took Holly several minutes to calm her down. Wallace said almost nothing.
Jackson took the phone. “I’ll make the arrangements,” he said. “I’m his executor.”
“What are we going to do about burial?” Holly asked. “He didn’t have anybody.”
“He had us,” Jackson said. “He left instructions that he wanted his body cremated as quickly and cheaply as possible, and that he didn’t want a service.” He got the phone book and called a funeral director.
“You want some more coffee, Ham?”
“I’m going to take a walk on the beach,” Ham replied. “Come on, Daisy.” The dog got up and followed him outside.
An hour later they were all back at the table.
“I’ve got some things to tell you,” Jackson said. “The funeral parlor is picking up Chet’s body today. He’ll be cremated tomorrow. Chet wanted his ashes scattered on the river behind his house, and we can do that whenever you like.”
“Is that it?” Ham asked.
