Greene drove down Jewish War Veterans Drive, the road that cuts through the center of the park. It connects Roxbury to Jamaica Plain, from the edge of Grove Hall to Forest Hills. They sped past the Franklin Park Zoo and White Stadium on the right, the golf course on their left. They passed a couple of marked units, one-man patrol cars, stationed to secure the golf course as a crime scene.

“Just before the rotary,” Connie said. An asphalt footpath ran alongside the access road and circled the park. Beyond the path was a grassy area next to two tennis courts, which led to an opening in some trees. The baseball diamond was on the other side of the trees, flanked by hills. Everything beyond the ball field was part of the golf course.

Greene took the left turn and Connie ripped off the left handle. At least the sides matched. He tossed it under Greene’s seat as they jerked to a stop. The street was blocked off by police vehicles, Boston PD and a couple of state troopers.

Seeing the staties reminded Connie that the Shattuck Hospital and the street running through the park were state property. The state police had jurisdiction over them, while the park itself was maintained by the Boston Parks Department and policed by the BPD. On TV and in movies, local and state police fought about who had jurisdiction over a crime scene. In the real world, the state police weren’t so territorial. If anything, there were times when the BPD tried to dump a case on the staties to keep Boston ’s homicide rate down. But that wasn’t happening tonight; the troopers were leaning against their cruisers.

Connie and the detectives stepped out of the car. The two detectives were an odd pair. Greene was a little guy who called the shots. Ahearn was huge, bigger than Connie.