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documentation in quadruplicate required one woman to do nothing but run the copying machine. The paperless society had not arrived.
    Although she hated completing documentation, she knew it was necessary to do it and do it well. Years before, one bad experience in court had taught her the importance of record keeping. A defense lawyer had not only twisted her words but also suggested she might have had a questionable motive for not including all relevant information. She’d kept meticulous notes ever since.
    â€œGot something for you.” Frank Braithwaite dropped a file on her desk. “Your first case. Someone tampered with a young guy’s motorcycle brakes and killed him. Hate to think what the poor bugger thought when he pumped the brakes and nothing happened. Must have been quick—he hit a loaded dump truck. Happened on Parliament Street. We’re lucky the traffic guys saw that the brakes had been cut. Probably took a careful look when witnesses told them the guy didn’t slow down. No skid marks either. After they saw the cuts, they called Homicide.”
    She hoped this would be a relatively uncomplicated case. The master board detailing each officer’s cases recorded ongoing and solved crimes in different coloured marker. She didn’t want her first case to remain unsolved for all to see. As if she had spoken aloud, Frank cocked his head to one side and regarded her quizzically.
    â€œI’m pairing you with Zee Zee.” Frank frowned. “Be interesting to find out how two women go about solving a crime—they don’t often get a chance. But then, unless they have something special going for them, not many women are appointed homicide detectives. Certainly it will give you two the opportunity to show us what you can do.”
    She couldn’t accuse him of hostility or prejudice but, although he stated facts, there was no mistaking his meaning. And what about this you and us stuff. They’d better do well, or he’d use their failure as an excuse to turf her out, special status or not.
    Rhona reached for the file, although there wouldn’t yet be much to read. She’d skim it before she dropped it in her large bag’s side pocket. The bag did double and even triple duty as a briefcase, purse and a place to stash the tools of the trade. She made sure she had her notebook, tape recorder and cell phone.
    Frank’s gaze focused on the bag. “That has to be a weapon in itself. Better than a billy stick.” His eyebrows rose. “Maybe it’s something all our officers should have.”
    Was he joking, criticizing or merely commenting? From Zee Zee’s rundown, she guessed his remark was designed to knock her slightly off base. She wouldn’t play his game—she’d go for humour. “Definitely. It should be standard issue. I’ve used it to knock out more perps than you’d ever believe. It deserves its own citation.”
    Zee Zee, carrying her teapot, emerged from the duplicating room which doubled as the department’s food and coffee preparation centre. Frank beckoned her to join them. He related the case’s details without innuendo or underlying messages.
    Interesting. Why had he directed his snide comments at her? Maybe because there hadn’t been a witness. Or perhaps he’d had previous run-ins with Zee Zee and knew enough to leave her alone. After he left, she repeated his remark to Zee Zee.
    â€œHe’s thrown down the gauntlet.” Zee Zee offered tea before she filled her own mug. “Can we solve this one brilliantly and in a hurry?” She raised an eyebrow. “Shouldn’t be a problem. Aren’t we twice as smart?”
    â€œUndoubtedly.”
    Zee Zee parked her tea pot, checked to make sure she had everything she needed and nodded toward the door. “First things first. We’ll interview the family.”
    On Winchester, they parked and walked to the Hartmans’ house.