Tucker Peak Read Online Free Page B

He’d been a detective with the state police’s Bureau of Criminal Investigation then, and (as far as I was concerned) had now become the perfect poster boy of how and why VBI benefited all capable, ambitious Vermont cops, regardless of where they’d started out.
    One paradoxical aspect of the Vermont State Police—or VSP in acronym-happy cop-talk—was that while it was Vermont’s premier law enforcement agency, in terms of size, budget, and quality, it was also a traditionally structured organizational pyramid. The more capable and upwardly mobile an officer became, the less likely it was he or she would be given an open slot in a timely manner. Highly deserving, experienced people were finding themselves either standing in line, praying for providence, or looking for jobs elsewhere.
    Spinney had opted for an alternate route, in fact declining a VSP promotion that would have anchored him to a desk in order to join the attorney general’s office and keep working investigations. The only downside was that he’d exchanged being a part of a large, companionable organization of fellow cops for working with a bunch of lawyers. Educational perhaps, but also socially isolating—and he was a famously sociable person.
    Enter VBI.
    “Hello, boys and girls,” he said, trying to simultaneously shuck his coat and not drop an oversize box of Dunkin’ Donuts. “I thought I’d take the edge off a Monday by putting your minds on your stomachs.”
    “It’ll take more’n that,” Willy grumbled.
    Spinney smiled broadly and reached into the box. “Just what I thought, Grumpy, which is why I got you an extra big cinnamon roll.” He laid it with a flourish on Kunkle’s desk, complete with a napkin. Willy rolled his eyes but was eating Lester’s offering within five minutes. The rest of us didn’t bother being coy.
    “How’s your caseload, Lester?” I asked with my mouth full, having already quizzed the other two on their work.
    He’d replaced Sammie at the coffee machine and was pouring himself a cup. “The homicide in Springfield looks pretty straightforward, just lining everything up for the prosecution. The arson at that farm in Rockingham might take a bit more. It’s still a toss-up between the son and the neighbor. I’m leaning toward the neighbor. Why? Got something going?”
    “Yeah,” Willy said sarcastically. “Better put all that on hold. We’re in the big leagues now.”
    “Burglary at Tucker Peak,” I answered. “About fifty grand worth of stuff. We got it from Snuffy Dawson because of a twenty-thousand dollar watch and the fact that he’s already got his hands full with a bunch of protesters.”
    Lester whistled and, unlike Willy, didn’t question our involvement. Instead, he came up with an immediate suggestion. “You try the Internet auction houses yet?”
    Sammie looked up from her paperwork. “You’re kidding.”
    “Nope. Next best thing to a pawn shop, and with a much wider clientele. If I ended up with something like that, that’s how I’d move it.”
    He crossed over to one of the several computers we had around the room. “Want me to try?”
    To pay Willy his due, he was the first one by Lester’s side as he sat down before the monitor. Willy read the description of the watch aloud from the case file.
    Spinney started with eBay and began his search, talking as he did so. “There’re a bunch of these sites nowadays—dime a dozen—and we may be jumping the gun a little, but it can’t hurt.”
    He wasn’t successful at the first three sites, and I could sense Willy’s restlessness escalating. He was not a man given to hands-off police work.
    Lester suddenly sat back in his chair with a satisfied grunt. “Talk about lucky. The seller even put up a photograph of it.” He hit a button on the screen and popped up a picture of a gaudy, oversize diving watch, complete with gold inlay and small diamonds.
    “That it?”
    Willy pulled out William Manning’s picture of the watch.