Sackler and DeLeo, partners for nearly 12 years, had more in common than their constant arguing would suggest. Both were in their late 30's, losing their hair, gaining a mid-section and happily married. Each was a father to three kids, aged between tot and teenager. Dean, who'd been on the force for their entire tenure, was used to their early morning bickering and paid no attention.
David Dean was 38 years old and the only unmarried detective. He didn't share the encroaching baldness or the spreading waistline of the others. He was in fairly good shape, thanks mostly to weekend biking more than any innate athletic ability. While Sackler and DeLeo owned homes in the same subdivision, Dean rented a small house in the older part of town with Fred O'Connor, his elderly stepfather.
The first word on the case Sackler and DeLeo were arguing about had come by way of a call from the Norfolk, Virginia Police Department the prior afternoon, Dean's day off. The uniformed guys downstairs had drawn lots to see who got stuck informing the next of kin, and since that time, speculation on the disappearance of Jeffrey Byrne had been the chief topic of conversation at the Parkside Police Department.
Any new happening outside the mundane assortment of drug cases, burglaries, domestic disturbances or a semi-annual Saturday night passion killing came as a welcome change. Parkside was a small city of 40,000 located 50 miles northwest of Philadelphia. While it was close enough to catch broadcasts of Phillies baseball and Eagles football, it was far enough away to be isolated from most of the brutality associated with the city of Brotherly Love. Each passing year brought the mayhem further northward, causing the old timers and the local newspaper to fret for the good old days when violence was no worse than a dog fight. Still, a case that spawned a novel basis for argument was always a welcomed diversion from their increasing caseload.
DeLeo, already bored with the exchange, got up and moved toward the door. "A skip case, pure and simple. The guy's sitting on some tropical beach with a babe in his lap."
Sackler was unwilling to let it go. "McCarthy got to talk to the widow. He says nobody in their right mind would skip out on her. I'll bet you a cup of coffee it was a stupid accident."
"You're on!" answered DeLeo, never willing to pass up a bet. He looked to the others for approval. "Anybody else?"
Harrigan, the youngster of the group at 28, continued to nod away. The red-haired detective was never without a smile, even when snoozing. Since his marriage two weeks ago, his catnaps were becoming even more frequent than in his pre-nuptial days. Dean simply shook his head, committed to being grumpy for the entire day.