Hard Spell (Hard Case Crime) by Justin Gustainis

Author:Justin Gustainis
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9780857661166
Publisher: Angry Robot
Published: 2011-07-06T22:00:00+00:00

• • • •

We parked behind a Pittston PD cruiser that looked

like it had a lot of miles on it. I could see yellow

crime scene tape fencing off a white duplex with

green trim. The place had seen better days. A

couple of shingles were gone from the roof, and the

paint was peeling in several places. As soon as we

were out of the car, Lacey came strolling over, a

notebook in her hand and a frown on her

heartshaped face.

"Good evening, as Bela Lugosi used to say," she

said to me, then nodded at my partner. "Karl."

"Whatever chance this had of being a good

evening went down the tubes hours ago," I said.

"You wanna fill us in?"

"I might be able to do better than that, and get you

inside for a look," she said. "The Crime Lab guys

have been and gone."

As we walked toward the house Lacey said,

"Family's name is Dwyer. They've got the

upstairs."

"Who's ROS?" I asked her. I wanted to know who

the Ranking Officer on Scene was because I wasn't

going in that house without permission. Lacey

couldn't give it, because this wasn't her case, or

her jurisdiction. The last thing I wanted was some

Statie calling McGuire to complain that I'd

violated procedure.

"Twardzik," she said flatly.

There was silence for three or four paces.

"Of course it is," I said. "Why should God start

taking pity on me now?"

I followed her through the small crowd of milling

cops and technicians to where the Ranking Officer

on Scene was chewing on a couple of guys in plain

clothes. Even from the rear, Lieutenant Michael

Twardzik was easy to spot. He was the only one

around in a State Police uniform who barely

topped

5'5".

That's

the

minimum

height

requirement, and I swear the little bastard must've

worn lifts in his shoes when he applied for the

academy. His case of short man complex isn't much

worse than, say, Napoleon's.

"And if either of you fail to turn in your Fives in a

timely manner again," Twardzik growled, "you'll

be packing up for your transfer to Altoona before

end of shift. Understand me?"

He didn't wait for an answer. "Dismissed."

Every big organization has its version of Siberia

– the place they send you when you fuck up not

quite bad enough to be fired. In the Army, it used to

be the Aleutian Islands off Alaska. With the FBI,

it's Omaha, for some reason. And the Pennsylvania

State Police's designated version of Purgatory is

Altoona. I wouldn't argue the choice – I've been to

Altoona.

I let Lacey take the lead as we came up behind

Twardzik. "Lieutenant?" Even in that one word, I

could tell that she'd made her voice softer, a little

more feminine. This surprised me some, since

Lacey's normally a "fuck you if you can't take a

joke" kind of gal. She must really want us to see

the inside of that duplex. "Would it be okay with

you if I give these officers a look at the crime

scene?"

div> Twardzik turned, squinting against the

flashing lights from the police cruisers. "Which –

oh, these officers."

Years ago, before I joined the Scranton PD, I

thought I wanted to be a Statie. So I took the exam

for admission to their academy. Something like

two hundred and thirty guys (it was all guys, back

then) took it that year, and I scored fourteenth.

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