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  LEAVING THE SCENE

  A Penns River Crime Novel

  Dana King

  PRAISE FOR LEAVING THE SCENE

  “A small town, a killing, and a cast of characters tough enough to make Elmore Leonard grin. Dana King’s Leaving the Scene is a slow burn that will leave you wanting more. A great read!” —Bruce Robert Coffin, bestselling author of the Detective Byron mysteries

  “Great read—ensemble cast, police procedural in a tough, blue-collar-town, with good reminders of classic Ed McBain. Gritty and authentic detail, with realistic, interesting characters and crimes.” —Dale T. Phillips, author of A Memory of Grief and A Darkened Room

  “Dana King’s Leaving the Scene delivers the goods—a procedural packed with smart dialogue, sharp plotting, and a vivid humanity that brings to mind the best of McBain, Wambaugh, and Connelly.” —James D.F. Hannah, Shamus Award-winning author of the Henry Malone series.

  “With interweaving plots and quickfire dialogue, the relentless pace of Leaving the Scene is highly addictive.” —Caro Ramsay, Dagger-shortlisted author of the Anderson and Costello mysteries

  Copyright © 2021 by Dana King

  All rights reserved. No part of the book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review.

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  The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Cover design by Eric Beetner

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  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Leaving the Scene

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Books by the Author

  Preview from Tracking Shot by Colin Campbell

  Preview from Sangre Road by David Tromblay

  Preview from Roughhouse by Jeffery Hess

  To Drs. John Grundy and Priya Vakharia, who keep my vision good enough

  to continue writing. If you don’t like my books, blame them.

  THURSDAY

  JULY 18

  10:47 p.m.

  The American Legion function room was about half empty when Ben “Doc” Dougherty pulled a folding chair next to Stan “Stush” Napierkowski and asked what the plan was for tomorrow.

  Stush tipped his can of Rolling Rock toward Doc in salute. “Get up around six. Make coffee. Read the paper.”

  Doc waited until he was sure Stush had finished. “You do understand you’ll wake up retired, right? Live a little. Sleep till quarter after. Tempt fate and go for six-thirty.”

  “It’s not like I’ll set an alarm. I been getting up at six for so long I do it on Sundays and vacations.”

  They sat two feet apart, watching the room with cop eyes as the party lost steam. Doc asked if Stush had plans beyond coffee and the paper.

  “I might run over to Oak Lake. See can I scare up a foursome.”

  “They gave you a lifetime membership at the country club. I hear that’s a hell of a nice course.”

  Stush nodded. “Might be the best course in the area except for Oakmont. Played it a couple of times when the big shooters around here still cared about schmoozing me.” A sip of beer. “Look who I’d have to play with. Same jagovs spent the last five years trying to run me out of a job.”

  “Won’t they be working?”

  “It’ll either be them or some of their asshole buddies.” Stush sipped and looked in the general direction of the country club. “Maybe I’ll sneak over some Monday when they let the caddies and hired help play. My people.”

  Doc knew the aluminum mill would reopen and run three shifts before Stush played the country club. “You’re Polish. You should bowl.”

  “I will. Joe Rychlinski’s been trying to get me on his team in the Tuesday night Falcon’s league for a couple years. Now I have time.”

  Doc watched Stush take in everyone still there the way a father looks at a child leaving for college. Forty years a Penns River cop, twenty-five as chief. Doc turned down half a dozen six-figure private security jobs after nine years in the Army so he could work for his Uncle Stush. Uncle in name only. Stush and Doc’s father friends since they worked together at the A&P right out of high school, Penns River still a township. Spoke so no one might overhear. “You trained us well, Uncle Stoshu. We’ll be okay.” Stush turned when he heard his boyhood name, eyes shining. “Everything I hear about Sullivan says he’s a good man,” Doc said.

  “Sully’s aces.” Stush crushed the empty can. Held it up for Doris Renko to see from behind the bar. “Don’t know if I told you, but part of the reason I retired now is because he was available and interested. And the country club membership.” A wink.

  “You’ll miss it, though.”

  “Goddamn right.” As much emotion in Stush’s voice as if discussing how much a putt might break. Gestured to the room. “This is what I’ll miss. The job’s been a pain in my ass for a long time. Gave me a heart attack a few years ago. Sullivan’s welcome to it.”

  Doc sipped his Foster’s. The only guy in town who drank it. Doris always kept a couple of the big oil cans cold for him. “What would you say changed the most since you came on? Besides getting cars.”

  Stush accepted a fresh beer from George Augustine. Asked after Augie’s daughter in the Air Force. Turned back to Doc only after satisfying his curiosity. “I walked a beat, smartass. Knew every family on it. I told a kid to stop or come over here and he didn’t, I ran him down and gave him a couple swipes across the hammies with my baton. Told him if it happened again I’d take him home to his father. Anything I did be like kisses from his mother once his old man got through with him.”

  “White kids?”

  “Mostly, yeah. Not all. See, I didn’t just know the families. They knew me. I’d tell them I had to smack their kid’s ass and why, everyone was good with it.”

  “Can’t do that now.”

  “No, and it’s a good thing. A cop in a unit riding around all day can’t have the same kind of rapport. Or judgment. There’s too much distance. Cop in a car doesn’t know the people as well, someone lips off to him could end up in the hospital. Puts everyone in a jackpot having to write around it.”

  “You must’ve put your share in there.”

  Stush held up a finger. “One.” Saw Doc’s face. “Swear to God. Little half-pint Dago hanging around down by the tracks looking to boost stuff outta the boxcars pulled a knife on me and took a swipe.” Swallowed beer, his eyes smiling at the memory. “I guaran-goddamn-tee you that little cocksucker never pulled on a Polack again.”

  The two men watched in companionable silence as the party wound down. Peers now after Doc had proven himself as a cop and a man more times than either could remember. Stush swished a sip of beer around in his mouth before he swallowed. “How’re the troops taking to Snyder as deputy?” Promoting Nancy Snyder from patrol to deputy chief over several men with more rank and seniority was Stush’s final personnel decision.

  “My first choice would’ve been Mike Zywiciel, but he made it clear he didn’t want the job. To be honest, he didn’t exactly cover himself in glory during that active shooter business at Rose’s last winter. He’s better off running patrol, though I doubt he’ll last a year with you gone.” Doc shook the last crumbs of pretzel and salt into his mouth. W
ashed it down. “Nancy’s probably a better choice. She has a good idea of the big picture, doesn’t rattle, and I doubt the mayor or any of the assholes who actually run this town will intimidate her. She’s fine.”

  “Just fine?”

  “What do you want me to say? She’s going to reinvent police work? My biggest issue with her getting the job is we’ll miss her on patrol.”

  “And?”

  “Jesus, Stush. And what? I have no problem working for her if that’s what you’re asking. Hell, I like working for her. She’s smart and on top of things, and she doesn’t play favorites with the people who were friends before the promotion. If you’re so worried about how she’s working out, why didn’t you let Sullivan pick someone?”

  “Because he would’ve picked you, and you would’ve felt like you had to take the job, and I know how much you don’t want it.” Went on while Doc still gathered his thoughts. “Benny, you’re the most respected person on the force. You’d have been the perfect bridge between the old and the new, Sullivan’s obvious choice. Even the assholes who’ve been running me out would’ve recommended you as the best man to lubricate the transition.” More beer. “I know Sully a little. From conferences and around. He’s a persuasive guy. He’d of used arguments I never would because you and me go back so far. Guilt you into taking a job you’d hate. Not just hate it; hate it. I appointed Snyder as my parting gift to you, and because she was the next best qualified once I saw Zywiciel wasn’t up to it. Sullivan doesn’t want her, he can get rid of her.”

  Stush seemed surprised to find himself leaning half out of his chair. Sat back and drew in some beer. “I didn’t bring her up to talk about you. How’s everyone else taking it? The people who wouldn’t tell me, I mean.”

  “About what you’d expect. Some think she jumped the line. Some don’t like working for a woman. Some just like to bitch. Mostly everyone’s fine with her, and she’ll handle the others. From what you tell me about Sullivan, I doubt he’s going to put up with much bullshit, regardless of the reason.”

  “Sully’s going to come down hard for a while, showing everyone else how far up the tree he can piss.” Stush folded his hands across his belly in his standard thinking pose, can of Rolling Rock poised between his fingers on the shelf. “She’ll be fine. Retiring now wasn’t exactly my idea, but my conscience is clear.”

  The two men nursed their beers, far enough into the evening to know they didn’t want any more but not yet ready to go home. People came by every few minutes on their way out to congratulate Stush or break his balls or show they wanted to say something even if they had no idea what it was. Stan Napierkowski and Ben Dougherty were the closest things to heroes Penns River had. One was stepping down and the other wasn’t stepping up. Penns River lost something here tonight, and the town had little left to lose.

  FRIDAY

  JULY 19

  7:02 a.m.

  Doc drank two more beers than he’d planned and one more than he really should have, so he wasn’t amused when the phone rang half an hour before the alarm was set to go off. Dead body down the Flats.

  Lester Goodfoot had the crime scene under control, wrapping up another night of his permanent graveyard shift. Every year Stush offered to put him in the rotation. Every year Lester turned him down. Said he was more valuable on the nights, what with Indians seeing so much better in the dark than white men. Doc knew the real reason. Lester’s idea of a good night’s sleep was four hours, tops, and not continuous. Listening to the house settle and his wife snore drove him crazy. At least there were things to do if he couldn’t sleep in the daytime.

  Lester’s patrol unit hid the body from anyone passing by on Greensburg Road. Doc pulled past and parked as far away as he could and still be on the paved lot of what had once been a gas station. Gulf at first. Then Chevron, Sunoco, and some operation Doc didn’t remember the name of. Only things left were the building for the office and service bays, the island where the pumps used to be, and an iron bar near the body that once supported the air pump.

  Doc twisted his torso as he crossed the lot, trying to get loose. Never much of a coffee drinker, he depended on his morning shower to get the blood circulating. No time for one today. “Morning, Lester. Neuschwander here yet?”

  “I thought he was on vacation.”

  “Tomorrow. What do we got here?”

  Lester nodded toward the body. “Couple kids out running their dog before it got hot come across her. Said they ran right past on the way out but the dog got curious coming back.”

  “They sure she was here on the first pass?” Not a big deal; the autopsy would tell how long she’d been dead. It might help determine whether she was dropped off or killed here.

  “I asked about that. They said it was only a couple of minutes after they come by the first time, and they didn’t see any cars go past.” Lester pointed to Greensburg Road to show the directions the boys had gone. “They run up the other side of the road, facing traffic, then back on this side. That’s when the dog noticed her.”

  “The dog mess with the body? Mark its territory or take anything?”

  “The boys say no. Said they were real careful once they seen what it was. They’re good kids. They live off-Broadway”—the locals’ designation for a cluster of homes set back from Broadway Avenue— “and come running their dog every morning, rain or shine. I know they play football, and I think one of them’s a wrestler.”

  “Where are they now?”

  Lester pointed to the abandoned service area. “Back there. Turned out being around a murdered body isn’t as cool as it looks on the TV. I told them to stay close, but they keep finding spots where they don’t have to look at her.”

  Doc knew a path ran through the bushes over to Broadway. “You sure they’re still back there?”

  Lester nodded. “I can hear them talking. Ain’t just our night vision that’s better’n you white-eyed devils.”

  Doc recognized Wally Beattie right away from seeing him wrestle. Western Pennsylvania champ last year and a definite contender for States this winter. Pete’s name familiar from hearing it on the PA at football games from a dozen tackles a game. Penn State, Pitt, West Virginia, and The Ohio State University had been sniffing around, the recruiting magazines listing him as a national top ten linebacker. Both good kids who wanted to be helpful but didn’t have any more to say than what they’d told Lester. Doc gave them the usual “If you think of anything else” speech, handed a card to each, and turned them loose as Rick Neuschwander pulled into the lot.

  Penns River couldn’t afford a full-time crime scene tech, so Neuschwander pulled double duty as both detective and CSI. So good at evidence collection Pittsburgh called every time they had an opening. Funny thing, broke as it was, Penns River paid better than the Burgh, well-known for not paying its cops what they were worth. Besides, going to Pittsburgh would mean commuting and shift work. Neuschwander lived for eating dinner with the family and tucking the four little Nooshes in at night.

  The two detectives crossed behind Lester’s car to meet at the side of the body. “Jeez,” Neuschwander said. “He ran over her face.”

  He sure had. Tread marks crossed the upper torso and where her face used to be. Tank top pulled up and off the right side of her back. Cutoffs and panties torn to expose one buttock. A sandal, more like a glorified flip-flop, lay next to her right foot. Only visible jewelry a thin gold chain around her neck—somehow intact—and a hoop earring on the ground near her torn earlobe.

  Doc crouched near her head. “Blood on this earring.” Pointed with a pen. “Looks like it was pulled out.”

  Neuschwander stood. Looked around the lot. “You didn’t see the other shoe did you, Lester?” Lester hadn’t. “Be a nice get.”

  “No telling how long she’s been here,” Lester said. “Dog or some critter coulda took it.”

  “Let’s hope not,” Doc said. “That could be exactly what we need, depending on where it is now and who
might’ve accidentally driven off with it. She have a purse?”

  “Everything I saw is right there.” Lester got a look Doc had seen before. Too many people thought Stush had buried Lester on the midnights. Doc knew better. “Anything strike you unusual here?”

  Lester not given to trick questions, the detectives took their time. “Skid marks,” Neuschwander said.

  “More like the absence thereof,” Doc said.

  “Didn’t try to stop, no sharp turn,” Lester said. “Looks like she was teed up.”

  Doc about to say something when an Allegheny County Medical Examiner’s vehicle pulled into the lot and parked next to the detectives’ cars. Penns River couldn’t afford a crime scene tech and was the only city in Neshannock County, so there were sure as hell no funds for an ME they might need a couple of times a year. Allegheny County covered them—for a fee, ain’t nothing free in government these days—but Allegheny’s cases took precedence. Doc was happy not to have to wait in line today, hot as things were shaping up to be.

  He recognized the young woman as she walked across the pavement. Couldn’t place her name. She ducked under the crime scene tape and nodded toward the cops. “Morning, Dougherty. Neuschwander?” Rick nodded. She extended a hand toward Lester. “I don’t think I know you. Michelle House, Allegheny County coroner’s office.” That was it. Dr. House.

  She knelt to look at the body. “Don’t you Penns River people ever have a nice, clean domestic shooting? Dispute that leads to a stabbing? At least there’s only one this time.”

  “It’s a small town,” Doc said. “We figure if we want to hold the interest of you big-city folks, it needs to be something you don’t see every day.”