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For once, Detective Constable Daniel Chalmers was the first to arrive at the Brokenwood police station. That feat had only required him getting up a half hour earlier than he usually did and cutting his morning run short by half an hour.
Not that he’d chosen that adjustment to his normal routine; he’d just woken up way too early and hadn’t been able to fall back asleep, so he’d gotten started early.
Daniel wasn’t sure he’d make the effort again, but for the moment, he simply greeted the uniformed constable on duty and headed for the coffeemaker. A fresh cup not made by Detective Kristin Sims would be the perfect accompaniment as he checked to see what fresh hells – er, emails – had arrived overnight.
He’d just settled at his desk and savored the first sip of coffee when Constable Wiremu called to him.
“We’ve had an emergency call,” Wiremu said, his tone serious. “Vehicle rollover not far from the Brokenwood Chalet. One fatality.”
Daniel frowned. “Shouldn’t the traffic division handle that?”
“Normally, yes,” Wiremu replied. “But the person who called it in doesn’t think it was really an accident.”
Daniel snorted quietly. “Mrs. Marlowe?”
“That’s the funny part. An American called it in.”
An American? Well, that was certainly far more interesting than the latest reminder that he needed to complete his monthly cyber security training.
Daniel swallowed half of his remaining coffee in one gulp and set the cup aside as he rose.
“Shall I call the senior?” Wiremu asked. “Or Detective Sims?”
“No need to ruin their mornings,” Daniel replied. “Just send them along when they get in. And call the pathologist after you text me the location.”
“Copy that.”
*BREAK*
Daniel parked behind a patrol car and surveyed the scene as he approached.
The road was more of a lane, really, paved but single track. Laurel trees towered to each side, shadowing the lane but not enough that a driver would need headlights once the sun rose.
The car itself, a charcoal-colored Holden Captiva, rested upside down, its front end crumpled against a tree.
“Chalmers.” Constable O’Leary greeted him with a nod, her expression somber.
He nodded back. “What happened?”
“Initial scene evaluation suggests the vehicle was traveling eastbound at high speed. Possibly due to sunlight angling through the laurels, the driver lost control and rolled the car. Momentum carried it into the tree. The driver didn’t make it.”
Daniel suspected he knew the answer, but still had to ask, “No witnesses?”
“No, sir,” O’Leary answered. “The person who called it in said the engine was already cool.”
Interesting. “And where is this person?”
O’Leary gestured further down the lane. Following the movement, Daniel saw someone sitting on the ground on the far side of the street, maybe three meters past the vehicle.
Daniel thanked her and started toward the person, pausing as he drew opposite the Captiva and staring at the path marked by twigs and laurel leaves. The path led up to the Captiva on the driver’s side, and even from here Daniel could make out the figure of the driver hanging from the seat belt.
A man, judging by the short, neat haircut, and possibly anywhere from thirty to fifty – though that was more a hunch than an observation.
Further identification could wait until they’d extracted the driver and Gina had completed her initial examination.
For now, Daniel turned his attention back to the person – a male by musculature – sitting across the way, head bent over and thumbs flying over a cell phone. Whoever he was seemed remarkably…calm, all things considered, sitting there in a T-shirt, shorts, and trainers. Sweat darkened the T-shirt at the neckline and armpits, suggesting a morning not unlike Daniel’s own.
Daniel closed the distance, and the man – fairly fit, light brown hair also darkened with sweat – didn’t look up as he approached.
Daniel paused a few feet away. No need to loom over the witness. Not yet, anyway.
“Kia ora,” he said. “I understand you called this in?”
“I did.” The man finished typing something on his phone before looking up-
-and Daniel blinked at a face he’d never thought to see again.
“Detective DiNozzo?” he said, wondering if this was in fact the man he’d met at an international law enforcement conference more than a year ago.
The man grinned, though the expression reminded Daniel more of a grimace. “Special Agent DiNozzo, now. I’m with NCIS – the Naval Criminal Investigative Service.”
“Either way – what brings you halfway round the world?”
“More like a third of the way,” DiNozzo said. “But whatever. I caught a case that took me from D.C. to Los Angeles to Sydney. I figured since I was already in the area, I should take advantage of some of my accrued vacation time. Especially since the agency is paying the airfare.”
Tugging his pant legs up, Daniel squatted. Definitely no need to loom over a fellow law enforcement officer.
“Fair enough,” he said, “but Brokenwood’s a fair bit from Sydney.”
DiNozzo shrugged, his expression only a little abashed. “I figured Sydney’s not far from Auckland, so why not visit a friend? And then they told me you’d come to Brokenwood, so I figured that’s not much further, and I might as well see more of New Zealand, since I probably won’t get back this way again anytime soon.”
Daniel let skepticism color his tone when he asked, “And you just happened to come across a fatal accident?”
DiNozzo huffed out a laugh. “Yeah. That’s my luck, for sure.”
Daniel couldn’t help a grin, but he sobered quickly. “We’ll need a formal statement later. For now, can you tell me what happened?”
DiNozzo stood, and Daniel followed suit. Before either of them could speak, the rumble of a classic car engine announced the arrival Mike Shepherd in his Holden Kingswood, Kristin Sims in the passenger seat.
DiNozzo let out a low, appreciative whistle as the other two detectives joined them. “She’s a beauty.”
Mike grinned briefly. “Thanks. American?”
“Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo,” Daniel said, “this is Detective Senior Sergeant Mike Shepherd and Detective Kristin Sims. He was just telling me what happened.”
“I was running,” DiNozzo said, “and I saw the car. I called 911, realized my mistake, and called 111. While I was on the phone with them, I checked the driver’s pulse – left wrist and neck pulse points – and didn’t find anything. Then I checked the hood of the car – it was cool, so the car’d been here a while.”
“And then?” Kristin didn’t look up from whatever note she was jotting in her notebook.
DiNozzo – or should Daniel think of him as Tony, since he’d claimed they were friends? – chuckled briefly, if darkly. “Then, since I have no jurisdiction here, I forcefully suppressed my urge to investigate, retraced my steps and marked off the path I’d taken to the car, then sat down to wait for the authorities to arrive.”
“They said you think it’s not an accident?” Mike prompted.
Tony nodded. “No tire marks to indicate he skidded before the car rolled, and he would have if he’d been going very fast. Besides, on this road? He couldn’t have been doing more than thirty-five – uh-”
He broke off, obviously concentrating on something besides the conversation. Then he nodded, his expression satisfied. “Fifty or so? I think? Kilometers per hour. You guys don’t grade your roads much, which is more likely to lead to a spinout than a rollover. It was dry last night, and I didn’t see any animal tracks – not that I looked everywhere, but I did look along the side of the road where he probably was coming from.”
“Right.” Kristin sounded a little overwhelmed. In her defense, Tony had gone through a lot of information quickly.
Tony blew out a breath. “Sorry – I like to explain how I got to a conclusion. If you just want the conclusion…?”
Before either Mike or Kristin could answer, Daniel shook his head. “I’d like to hear it all.”
DiNozzo – Tony – flashed him a brief grin before continuing. “So objectively, there’s no reason for a rollover. A spinout or just going off the road, sure – he could’ve looked at a phone, spilled coffee, gotten distracted by any number of things. But a rollover? I went back up to examine the undercarriage. I took the same steps, so there’s only one set of tracks.”
“And – you saw something on the undercarriage?” Mike asked.
“You’ll want your forensics team to go over the shocks especially.”
“Why that?” Kristin made another note.
“I don’t want to prejudice their examination,” Tony demurred.
“But you think they’ll find something,” Daniel concluded.
Tony’s expression said it all.