Read Online The Pied Piper of Death by Richard; Forrest - Free Book Online

examiner’s last remarks. “They were bullet shaped, with a concave rear that rested on the powder charge which was shoved down the barrel with the ramrod. The minié principle held that when the rifle was discharged, the rear of the bullet expanded until it fit snugly against the rifling, thereby making it more accurate. They were called minié balls after a Captain Minié, but they were what we call bullet shaped.”
    Hansen raised an eyebrow at Rocco. “You taking notes from our arms expert here, Chief?”
    â€œThe guy’s like that,” Rocco responded. “He’s got all kinds of weird knowledge that seems to come out of nowhere.”
    â€œUsually out of books,” Lyon finally countered, “but in this case it’s knowledge from a different source. When I first started teaching I had a contract with Gettysburg College. Since English instructors are not overpaid in the heartland of Pennsylvania, for extra money I studied and passed an exam to be a weekend guide at Gettysburg battlefield. I’ve picked up many a minié ball from the ground where they fell.”
    â€œCall them what you want,” Hansen said. “But at least two of those suckers killed this guy.” He guffawed again.
    Captain Norbert, commander of the nearby State Police Barracks, nodded to a trooper corporal. His subordinate acknowledged the signal with a barely perceptible flick of his eye and then brought his fist down on the wide wooden panels that made up the front door of the gatekeeper’s cottage.
    â€œOpen up! Police!” Without further prompting, he began a two-handed beat that created a staccato thump of noise.
    Years ago, Norbert had barely qualified for entry into the state police academy due to the height requirement. As time went on, he had seemingly tried to erase this deficit by enlarging the upper portion of his body. He had eventually produced a pronounced pyknic build with a barrel chest that seemed to make him slightly top-heavy. This change in his center of gravity forced him to walk with a slightly forward tilt that appeared remarkably like a bantam strut. The other members of his accompanying force resembled recently discharged Marine drill instructors.
    Doctor Happy Larsen tore the door open and glared at them over the rim of his granny glasses. “You guys want to wake the dead?” His belch of laughter nearly convulsed him but failed to move the stone-faced state police, who pushed past him into the small building.
    â€œRocco! Chief Herbert! I know you’re here,” Norbert bellowed.
    â€œWill you shut up, Norby,” Rocco said as he poked his head out of the dining room. “And I’d appreciate it if you’d quit monitoring my radio frequencies.”
    â€œSecure the crime scene,” the state captain commanded his corporal.
    Rocco pointed a long finger that froze the corporal in midstep. “It’s been done. Trooper, you touch a damn thing and you are dog meat,” he commanded in a low voice.
    The confused corporal looked at Captain Norbert for confirmation. The state police captain shrugged. “It’s his jurisdiction … temporarily,” he said. He stepped closer to the taller police chief and spoke in a whisper that carried throughout the downstairs. “One-horse towns with hick police shouldn’t handle sophisticated crimes, particularly those committed on the estate of one of the most prominent men in the area. Stick to your traffic tickets and occasional gas station holdups.”
    â€œThe ME is here and the state forensic people are on their way,” Rocco said. “We have a suspect upstairs who is presently undergoing preliminary interrogation.”
    â€œIt’s the wife if it’s the usual deal,” Norbert said. “The deceased is Markham Swan, right?”
    â€œRight,” Rocco answered.
    â€œWe busted him a few years ago. Stat rape as I recall.”
    â€œThe