coordinator and Sky, with her freshly-minted doctorate, needed a job. The collaboration resulted in a flurry of published articles within the year.
Sky blew dust out of each corner of the filigree frame and returned the picture of her parents to its place on the desk.
Her second mistake, she decided, was accepting Magnus Moriarty’s card at her father’s funeral. The Chief had introduced himself to Sky as they stood in front of Monk’s chrysanthemum-draped casket, said he'd heard good things about her BU seminar, said he’d read an article of Sky's on instructional bias in the latest issue of Law and Human Behavior , asked might Sky consider bringing her interview techniques to his squadroom.
When Sky told Chief Moriarty she didn't have any experience in law enforcement, he said "You're Monk Stone’s kid. That's all I need to know," and pressed his card into Sky's hand. In her grief, it had seemed an innocent request.
That was four years ago.
Sky was scrolling through e-mail when her office door flew open.
“Hello, darling.” Kyle entered with Axelrod in tow.
Sky glanced at the rookie and said, “Where's Butera?"
“Slight change of plans, love." Kyle slumped on the sofa, fished a crumpled pack of Marlboro's from his gray wool jacket, and pulled out a cigarette. "Axelrod rides with us."
Sky straightened up at this news.
"Detective Butera is off this case," Axelrod offered, smoothing his cowlick. "Something about needing him in Burglary for the next ten days.”
"You're golden, darling." Kyle lit his cigarette and inhaled deeply. "Magnus wants you on this case and he's afraid Butera will bad-vibe you back to Nantucket.” He blew three fat smoke rings into the air. “I assured the Chief that you would never think of deserting us in our hour of need."
Sky had to smile. Butera’s reassignment was classic Magnus. He would do whatever it took to keep her in town, smooth out any bumps in the road. She risked losing credibility with the police department if she ran back to Nantucket now. Magnus was forcing her to stay in Newton. Forcing her to stay on the case.
Sky jumped up and grabbed Kyle’s cigarette from his bony fingers. She meant to toss it, but now she was feeling a strong urge to take a hit. A lungful of smoke might improve things. She’d given up cigarettes and alcohol, happily, when she’d discovered she was pregnant. This might be the perfect time to resume both habits.
Sky considered her options while the cigarette burned.
"Doctor Stone, could you possibly fill me in on the Wigglesworth case?" Axelrod waved a wisp of smoke from his face.
"No." Sky stubbed the cigarette out against a crystal bud vase and tossed the butt. Tomorrow, that’s when she would start smoking.
"Doctor Stone is far too humble to talk about her triumphs, Axelrod. But I’m happy to fill you in.” Kyle pulled out a second cigarette and rolled it between his fingers. "Not much to it, really. Butera was the primary, the victim was Basil Wigglesworth, co-owner of Basil's, that four-star restaurant in Chestnut Hill. Wigglesworth was very hot property at the time, he'd just opened another restaurant in Manhattan, one in L.A., there was even talk of his own cooking show. The next Julia Child, the Globe called him. Poor guy, poisoned with strychnine in his own joint." Kyle smelled the unlit cigarette. "Wigglesworth dropped dead, face down into a plate of tiramisu, as I recall."
This embellishment made Sky cringe. "The body was in full rigor mortis by the time we got there," she said, taking the unlit cigarette from Kyle's hand. "Wigglesworth died in a convulsed position on the floor. Bulging eyes, face contorted." She winced at the memory. Strychnine was a bad way to go.
"See that?" Kyle jabbed a thumb toward Sky. "The doctor keeps us on the straight and narrow. Just the facts, ma'am." He stuck a toothpick through the gap between his front teeth. "She gave us a profile of Wigglesworth's killer early on in the
Sky blew dust out of each corner of the filigree frame and returned the picture of her parents to its place on the desk.
Her second mistake, she decided, was accepting Magnus Moriarty’s card at her father’s funeral. The Chief had introduced himself to Sky as they stood in front of Monk’s chrysanthemum-draped casket, said he'd heard good things about her BU seminar, said he’d read an article of Sky's on instructional bias in the latest issue of Law and Human Behavior , asked might Sky consider bringing her interview techniques to his squadroom.
When Sky told Chief Moriarty she didn't have any experience in law enforcement, he said "You're Monk Stone’s kid. That's all I need to know," and pressed his card into Sky's hand. In her grief, it had seemed an innocent request.
That was four years ago.
Sky was scrolling through e-mail when her office door flew open.
“Hello, darling.” Kyle entered with Axelrod in tow.
Sky glanced at the rookie and said, “Where's Butera?"
“Slight change of plans, love." Kyle slumped on the sofa, fished a crumpled pack of Marlboro's from his gray wool jacket, and pulled out a cigarette. "Axelrod rides with us."
Sky straightened up at this news.
"Detective Butera is off this case," Axelrod offered, smoothing his cowlick. "Something about needing him in Burglary for the next ten days.”
"You're golden, darling." Kyle lit his cigarette and inhaled deeply. "Magnus wants you on this case and he's afraid Butera will bad-vibe you back to Nantucket.” He blew three fat smoke rings into the air. “I assured the Chief that you would never think of deserting us in our hour of need."
Sky had to smile. Butera’s reassignment was classic Magnus. He would do whatever it took to keep her in town, smooth out any bumps in the road. She risked losing credibility with the police department if she ran back to Nantucket now. Magnus was forcing her to stay in Newton. Forcing her to stay on the case.
Sky jumped up and grabbed Kyle’s cigarette from his bony fingers. She meant to toss it, but now she was feeling a strong urge to take a hit. A lungful of smoke might improve things. She’d given up cigarettes and alcohol, happily, when she’d discovered she was pregnant. This might be the perfect time to resume both habits.
Sky considered her options while the cigarette burned.
"Doctor Stone, could you possibly fill me in on the Wigglesworth case?" Axelrod waved a wisp of smoke from his face.
"No." Sky stubbed the cigarette out against a crystal bud vase and tossed the butt. Tomorrow, that’s when she would start smoking.
"Doctor Stone is far too humble to talk about her triumphs, Axelrod. But I’m happy to fill you in.” Kyle pulled out a second cigarette and rolled it between his fingers. "Not much to it, really. Butera was the primary, the victim was Basil Wigglesworth, co-owner of Basil's, that four-star restaurant in Chestnut Hill. Wigglesworth was very hot property at the time, he'd just opened another restaurant in Manhattan, one in L.A., there was even talk of his own cooking show. The next Julia Child, the Globe called him. Poor guy, poisoned with strychnine in his own joint." Kyle smelled the unlit cigarette. "Wigglesworth dropped dead, face down into a plate of tiramisu, as I recall."
This embellishment made Sky cringe. "The body was in full rigor mortis by the time we got there," she said, taking the unlit cigarette from Kyle's hand. "Wigglesworth died in a convulsed position on the floor. Bulging eyes, face contorted." She winced at the memory. Strychnine was a bad way to go.
"See that?" Kyle jabbed a thumb toward Sky. "The doctor keeps us on the straight and narrow. Just the facts, ma'am." He stuck a toothpick through the gap between his front teeth. "She gave us a profile of Wigglesworth's killer early on in the
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