Read Nick of Time for Free Online Page B

death?”
    The detective didn’t reply.
    “Come on, Misco, you can tell me that much.”
    “Gunshot,” he said. “Two to the chest, a third to the forehead. Medium-caliber bullet, judging by the wounds—I’m betting a .38 or a .357.”
    “Check the exit wound in the back of the skull,” Nick said.
    “It won’t be level with the entry wound.”
    “How do you know that?”
    “Because nobody shoots a man in the head and then bothers to fire twice more into the chest—it’s the other way around. The first two shots would have knocked Pete down; the shooter would have still been standing, and he wanted to make sure Pete was dead—so the third shot would have been taken at an extreme angle.”
    “Good point,” Misco said.
    “I have a lot of clever ideas like that,” Nick said. “If you’ll let me take a look at the body, I’ll be glad to give you more.”
    “No thanks,” Misco said.
    Nick stared in disbelief. “I’ve seen cops get territorial before, but this is nuts.”
    “I never did like being called a ‘cop,’ ” Misco said, turning to the patrol officer. “How ’bout you?”
    “Nope—never did.”
    “ ‘Officer,’ maybe. ‘Detective’ sounds even better, since I earned it.”
    “I’ll call you ‘Your Imperial Highness’ if it makes you happy,”
    Nick said. “Just let me take a look at that body.”
    “Not a chance. This is a crime scene now— my crime scene—and I don’t want the general public contaminating it.”
    “The general public ? Do you have any idea what I do for a living, Misco? I’m a forensic entomologist—I happen to be in town because I’m a member of the Vidocq Society. Ever heard of them?”
    “Oh, yeah,” Misco said with a smirk. “The ‘Women’s Murder Club.’ Cute.”
    Nick did an incredulous double take. “Are you out of your mind? We’ve got some of the best forensic minds in the world over there.”
    “And I suppose you’re one of them.”
    “In my field? Yes, I am—I’m the best there is.”
    “Well, this is my field, Polchak, and we have a certain way of doing things here.”
    “Believe me, I’ve seen the way guys like you do things—and after they screw things up, they always call somebody like me to straighten out the mess. Why don’t you save us both a lot of time and trouble and let me take a look while I’m here?”
    “Excuse me?”
    “Look, you’re a detective—what is that, one pay grade above corporal? And as for the ‘Women’s Murder Club,’ why do you think Vidocq even exists? Because people like you always miss something, that’s why. That’s where cold cases come from, and I don’t want to see my friend turn into one.”
    Misco glared at Nick for a long time before he finally said, “Didja ever get a hunch about somebody the minute you met him? I had a feeling I wasn’t going to like you the first time you opened that big fat mouth of yours. And you know what? I was right.” His countenance gradually relaxed again. “Now here’s what’s gonna happen next: I’m gonna stand here and watch while you get in your car and drive off, and you’re not going to come back here again—understand? This is now a crime scene— my crime scene—and my people will take care of it.” He raised his right hand and made a little shooing gesture, as if Nick were a bit of rat scat he was flicking off the porch.
    “You’re making a big mistake,” Nick said.
    “The only mistake I’ve made so far is wasting time talking to you.” He shooed him again.
    When Nick finally turned and started toward his car, Misco called after him: “By the way, about your little ‘Murder Club.’ Just out of curiosity, has the FBI ever consulted you people on a case?”
    Nick turned but didn’t reply.
    “Uh-huh. What about NYPD?”
    Nick said nothing.
    “I didn’t think so,” Misco said. “Why do you suppose that is?”
    “Ego,” Nick said. “It’s a chronic problem with people who wear badges.”
    “Is that the reason? Or is