CHAPTER THREEThe Berkeley Police Department had got its new headquarters building at last. After the creaky old structure on McKinley Avenue, the nearby replacement looked modern and efficient from the outside. From the inside it resembled a medieval dungeon. Well, progress was progress.
Lindsey had phoned ahead and he was met by a uniformed sergeant who could have passed for a shaving lotion model. If there were such things any more. Blond, blue-eyed, clean-shaven, and wearing a uniform that must have been custom-fitted. He looked like a private eye from a Richard Prather paperback, suddenly drafted into the official police force.
“Olaf Strombeck,” the shaving lotion model introduced himself. They shook hands, exchanged business cards, and proceeded to Strombeck’s office, Lindsey now we
