Edward Lee

Edward Lee by Header Read Free Book Online Page A

Book: Edward Lee by Header Read Free Book Online
Authors: Header
absurdly now.

    Cummings rolled his eyes. "Finding out the manufacturer of the boots would give us a list of local outlets. Might be able to narrow down the stores in the area, check invoices, get a clerk who remembers, that sort of thing. If we have a list of the stores that sell the boots, we have a list of areas the perp might live in."

    "Wastin' yer time, Stew."

    "Oh? They'd already run an electrophoresis test on the semen in both heads," Cummings challenged. "The perp's bloodtype is A pos, subtype Mn. But there's A pos and Β pos in the second head, the one from last night. What's that tell you?"

    "Nothin' of importance." Peerce was barely listening now. He even retrieved his copy of Babes With Big Boobs. "You tell me. city boy."

    "It tells us that two guys ejaculated in the second head." Cummings caught himself there, realizing exactly what he'd just said. Ejaculated in the second head. I've got two perps out there, somewhere who've cut holes in the skulls of two women, and then they...

    He didn't finish the thought.

    "It ain't squat. Stew," Peerce insisted. "What good's knowing the perp's bloodtype?"

    "I can run a records sweep now, check out any A pos Mn ex-cons or psych-ward releases in the area. It's something."

    "It's squat, Stew. Yer pissin' in the wind. And what about the footprint?"

    "The state evidence tech ran a digitalization of the print pattern in their comparison computer. They've got every tread scheme of every shoe or boot ever made in the country. She knew it was a boot due to the sole-depth. But there was no match."

    "See? Squat."

    "Which tells me that the boot was handmade, which'll be even easier to check out. Get a line on any local shoemakers, and I got a line on the killer"

    Peerce looked up again, trying now to play Boss Man. "Ain't you got more important things ta do? Like stake out McKully's land fer more stills? That's yer job, ya know, not playin' Dick Fuckin' Tracy on a coupl'a no- account cracker murders."
    "I'm a fuckin' cop." Cummings profaned in reply. "My job is to investigate criminal activity."
    "Yer job. Stew, is ta bust stills—"

    "And that leads me to my next question." Cummings sat down, took a breath. Peerce, low IQ notwithstanding, was his superior. He couldn't get too shitty.

    "You're not leveling with me. J.L" he said.

    "How's that?" Peerce asked without looking up from the tit mag.

    Cummings caught a glimpse of the mag. A blonde was spraying milk into a redhead's wide-open mouth. He blinked away the image, cleared his throat. "What's a 'header'?"

    Peerce slapped the mag closed again. "Aw. shit, man! Just leave it, will ya!"

    "No. I want to know. That's what you said under your breath after the state sent the fax on the Reid girl. A 'header,' you called it. What the hell's going on?"

    Peerce spat tobacco juice into his obligatory cup. then pinched the bridge of his nose as if attempting to tamp a migraine. "Cain't you just leave shit be?"

    "No. What's a header?"

    Peerce opened his hands on the desk, leaned back, sighed. "It's just somethin' that goes on, is all. somethin' folks don't talk much about. It's nothin'."

    Cummings looked aghast. "J.L., we've got at least two men in our juris who are cutting women's heads open with a hole-saw and fucking their brains. That's nothing?"

    Peerce faltered further, grimacing like stomach gas. "If you was from around these parts, you'd know what I meant. It's feuds, boy."

    "Feuds?"

    "Yeah. Feuds." Peerce spat out his lump and loaded up another chaw of Red Man. "You wants ta know, city boy. then I'll'se tell ya. Cultures're different, see? Everwhere ya go. The Serbs hate the Bosnerians, the Jews hate the Ay-rabs, the Japs hate us."

    Cummings' frown blistered on his face. "What's that got—"

    "And 'round here." Peerce drawled on. "everbody hates ever-one else, fer all kinds'a reasons, from way on back. Don't matter why, just is."

    "All right." Cummings gave him. "Feuds. Fine. The Hatfields and the

Similar Books

Catseye

Andre Norton

Resort to Murder

Carolyn Hart

Our Man In Havana

Graham Greene

Peterhead

Robert Jeffrey

Solaris Rising 2

Ian Whates

The Chair

James L. Rubart