The Price of Malice by Archer Mayor Read Free Book Online Page B

first.”
    They both turned toward the building and saw Lester Spinney standing on the porch, holding the back of his head. He was dirty and covered with sweat, but he waved them off as they approached.
    “I’m okay, I’m okay,” he said. “I whacked my head is all. Who the hell is that little bastard?”
    “Eddie Novack,” said a familiar voice.
    They all three looked over at Ron Klesczewski, who was standing nearby, watching his men buckling up Sam’s prisoner.
    “He stuck a gun in the face of a teller at the Exit One gas station last month—got away with a couple of hundred bucks. We’ve been wondering when he’d show up.”
    “Meaning he probably had nothing to do with our body?” Spinney ventured.
    Ron lifted one shoulder equivocally. “I’d guess not, but this is one of those neighborhoods. You never know.”
    “All right,” Joe stated, his eye back on the first building. “Why don’t you ask him about that later, Ron? Lester, go to the ER and get a clean bill of health for that head. Sam can drive you. It looks like the lab folks are wrapping up; I want to head ’em off before they leave.”
    Spinney opened his mouth to protest, but then stopped, knowing both the predictable response, and that Gunther really had no choice. Plus, were he to be perfectly honest, he’d taken a harder shot than he was admitting, and was curious about what damage he might have incurred.
    Ron, Joe, and Willy therefore left the other two and walked over to a small group of people gathered near the back of the large lab truck, who were slowly and gratefully peeling off their suffocating Tyvek suits.
    Ron pointed out his own department’s mobile command post, parked a few feet farther along, and suggested, “You want to talk, feel free to use that—it’s air-conditioned.”
    Joe approached a man with graying hair who was already stuffing his suit into a garbage bag. His polo shirt and pants looked as if he’d been caught in a drenching summer shower.
    “David?” Joe began.
    The other man turned and smiled. “Joe. It’s been a while. Pardon the damp hand.”
    Joe shook it enthusiastically. David Hawke was one of the true old-timers, dating back to when the state police replaced their troopers with scientifically schooled and accredited lab techs. Hawke wasamong the key people throughout the state that Joe had made an effort to make a personal friend, rather than just a colleague.
    Joe nodded toward the PD’s smaller truck. “Care to retire where it’s cooler?”
    Hawke smiled broadly. “Jesus. Might put me into shock. There enough room in there for my whole crew?”
    The other techs looked at him hopefully.
    Ron gestured with his arm. “Complete with cold drinks.”
    The small crowd ambled next door to Ron’s command post and gingerly squeezed inside, carefully maneuvering until everyone had a place to perch and something cold to drink.
    David passed his can of iced tea across his forehead before popping the tab and taking a long swallow.
    “God,” he finally said. “That is truly what the doctor ordered. This is not the worst scene we’ve ever processed, but it’s close.”
    “Speak for yourself, Doc,” said one of his junior colleagues, whom Joe recognized as the new photo tech.
    The rest of them laughed sympathetically.
    “Anything you can tell us right off?” Joe asked after a suitably polite pause.
    “With the usual caveats, sure,” David told him, continuing after another pull on his drink. “The ME will have her say about cause of death, but since transport was delayed until we got here, we did take a look, and I feel safe saying he was done in by a sharp instrument, versus something like a gun. But he was also badly beaten, so who knows? Is that convincingly enough stated for you?”
    It was humorously said, but Joe noticed Willy shaking his head at the caution. Still, he kept quiet, which was good enough for the moment.
    “Nice work, by the way,” Hawke went on, “shading the windows