The Maine Massacre by Janwillem van de Wetering

Author:Janwillem van de Wetering [Wetering, Janwillem Van De]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Mystery, Thrillers & Suspense, International Mystery & Crime, Thriller & Suspense, United States, Crime Fiction, Police Procedurals, Crime, Literature & Fiction, Mystery; Thriller & Suspense
Amazon: B004J4XGLI
Publisher: Soho Crime
Published: 2003-07-01T12:00:00+00:00

10

DE GIER DIDN'T HEAR THE SIRENS WHEN HE PUSHED THE microphone back into its clip, but he heard them when he got the Dodge out of the Astrinsky driveway. The long, plaintive howl of the cruiser was activated by the yap of its barker, boring into the sergeant's eardrums with impatient, self-centered, aggressive barks. De Gier smiled. He liked the yapping. He thought he might try to buy one of the machines causing the weird sounds. A good gift for Grijpstra's next birthday. They could screw the gadget into the Volkswagen patrol car and split the peace of Amsterdam with it, say in the early hours of a Sunday. He waved when the cruiser's array of blue flashing lights came into view. The cruiser slowed and its passenger door swung open. De Gier jumped in and fell against the back of the seat as the sheriff accelerated. De Gier leaned over and watched the speedometer. It moved his way until it rested on eighty. Eighty, de Gier thought, and we are on a sheet of ice.

"There are snow tires on the cruiser," the sheriff said. "Studded. They'll hold. Should have chains really, but it's hard to have a chase when you're hampered by chains."

"But there is no chase. You said there was a man in the road, didn't you? And an overturned vehicle. They'll be waiting for us."

The sheriff's eyes shone. "Sure. But a little speed doesn't hurt, and die cruiser belongs to the state. We are the law, sergeant. We can move. Nobody else can these days. Why do you think we became police officers?"

De Gier held on as the cruiser skidded through a corner, slowed, and sped off again.

"Almost there now. Got the call from a man who lives in a trailer. Out-of-the-way part of the county. Nobody lives there except him. Old guy on welfare in a secondhand trailer. Looks like a cracker box that's been hit by a bulldozer, but it'll be invisible now, snowed over. Old guy doesn't like to use his shovel too much."

"What do you think happened?"

"Drunken driver, what else? Turned his car over, crawled out of it, sat down to think, and fell asleep. Old guy must have seen him and phoned us. Easy little job. All we have to do is wake up the man in the road, get him into the cruiser, and put him in jail for the night. A tow truck can take care of the wreck. Nothing to it, but I thought you could do with a bit of a change after your love affair. How did it go?"

"Yes."

"Did she say anything?"

"Perhaps. She may have been making conversation. But it could be that her father doesn't own the Cape Orca shore property. He may have been acting as a middleman and the real owner doesn't want his name to be known and hasn't had the deeds registered. The title is in Astrinsky's name, but only for the record."

"Hey," the sheriff said. "That's fine. Good. So she did say something.

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