My twin and I had barely kept a straight face because we were full-fledged police officers, stationed undercover at Canterdale High to ferret out a drug ring. Posing as mid-semester transfers had been pretty easy so far, but it also felt silly to fake anxiety about SATs and college applications when none of that applied to us whatsoever.#p#分页标题#e#
“Honey, we’ll stop by the local precinct next week,” I’d promised. “Maybe there’s some cop on a coffee break who could talk to us about his experience on the force.”
And so we had the perfect in. We’d swung by the precinct after classes let out, our backpacks slung casually over our shoulders, nothing more than two high school boys exploring career options.
Thankfully the front desk knew exactly how to treat undercover cops. Our receptionist gave no indication of knowing us despite the fact that she’d seen our mugs every day for the last three years.
“Can I help you?” she’d asked impersonally.
“Sergeant Collins, please,” I said.
“Of course,” she said, dialing upstairs. “Just one moment.”
And we were whisked upstairs, none of our colleagues giving any indication that they knew us as we strode past their desks. I did feel something hit the back of my shoulder and turned quickly to see what it was.
“Psst!” cracked Jack, one of our friends. “You like being in an episode of Grease?” he asked.
I figured he was referring to the movie with John Travolta, when Travolta was way too old to be in high school. But hey, people can suspend disbelief at least temporarily.
“Shut the fuck up,” I growled under my breath. This was so unprofessional, anyone could be watching the exchange.
But at that moment the Sarge appeared at the door to his office and gestured to us. “Come in boys, I’m happy to talk to you about what it’s like to be a police officer,” he said with a believably straight face.
“Come on,” said my brother, shooting Jack a dirty look before disappearing inside the office. And so it was with a relieved sigh that Bryan and I settled into the comfy chairs in front of the desk, letting go of pretense for a change.
“So how’s it going?” asked the Sarge, one eyebrow raised. “How’s that trailer working out for you?”
Oh right. The city budget being what it was, the precinct couldn’t afford to put us up in a rented house or apartment. So they’d installed us in a ramshackle trailer on the edge of the school zone with Sergeant Collins as our supposed “guardian,” our long-lost uncle.
“It’s fine,” I said nonchalantly.
“At least there’s heat and hot water,” my brother quipped.
But the Sarge was suddenly serious.
“How’s the investigation going?” he said. “I’ve got to feed the beasts at City Hall soon. The Adams, parents of victim Brian Adams, have been pressuring the Mayor for results and he’s been knocking on my door,” he said, shaking his head.
I felt bad for our boss. That’s the thing about moving up the management ladder – you barely get a chance to do any actual police work, instead spending all your time managing superiors.
“We got a big break,” said my brother, unzipping his backpack. “We found this.”
And out came an unidentifiable shape wrapped in plastic.
“What the fuck is that?” asked our boss, perplexed.
“Hold your breath,” warned Bryan. “Best to blast the AC, open the windows.”
And my twin set the package on the Sarge’s desk, carefully unrolling our precious cargo. Because despite its gory exterior, it actually contained key evidence. The plastic fell apart to reveal a dead cat, semi-thawed and decomposing, its eyes unseeing, set in an eternal unblinking stare.
“God almighty!” raged our Sarge. “This better be good, you’ve just stunk up my office.”#p#分页标题#e#
“Just give it a sec boss,” I chimed in, as my brother continued with the honors. Because now he’d snapped on a pair of gloves and was pulling the cat’s abdomen apart … to reveal five packets stuffed with white powder.
“Oh shit,” breathed Collins. “Is that what I think it is?”
“Probably, yeah,” smirked my brother. “It’s likely heroin or cocaine, packaged conveniently into a dead animal where no one would think to look.”
“How did you get your hands on this?” asked our boss.
My brother shrugged. “Luck, more than anything. Our lab partner fainted during the dissection and we ended up having to do a weekend make-up. During the make-up, there must have been some mix-up when it came to the specimen and we got this instead,” he said, gesturing to the dead cat.