I crutched over to the sewing room and knocked.
"I might be. Why?"
slight headache from staring into the microfilm reader, but I had what I
wanted. My hunch had been on the money—not that it had been any great
intuitive leap.
Junkins had been in charge of the hit-and-run that had killed Moochie Welch,
all right… and he had also been in charge of investigating what had happened
to Repperton, Trelawney, and Bobby Stanton. He'd have to be one dumb cop
not to read Arnie's name between the lines of what was happening.
I leaned back in the chair, snapped off the reader, and closed my eyes. I tried
to make myself be Junkins for a minute. He suspects Arnie of being involved
with the murders. Not doing them, but involved somehow. Does he suspect
Christine? Maybe he does. On the TV detective shows, they're always great
at identifying guns, typewriters used to write ransom notes, and cars involved
in hit-and-runs. Flakes and scrapes of paint, maybe…
Then the Darnell bust looms up. For Junkins, that's nothing but great. The
garage will be closed and everything in it impounded. Maybe Junkins
suspects…
What?
I worked harder at imagining. I'm a cop. I believe in legitimate answers, sane
answers, routine answers. So what do I suspect? After a moment, it came.
An accomplice, of course. I suspect an accomplice. It has to be an
accomplice. Nobody in his right mind would suspect that the car was doing it
herself. So…?
So after the garage is closed, Junkins brings in the best technicians and lab
men he can lay his hands on. They go over Christine from stem to stern,
looking for evidence of what has happened. Reasoning as Junkins would
reason trying to, anyway—I think that there has to be some evidence. Hitting
a human body is not like hitting a feather pillow. Hitting the crash barrier out
at Squantic Hills is not like hitting a feather pillow, either.
So what do they find, these experts in vehicular homicide?
Nothing.
They find no dents, no touch-up repainting, no blood stains. They find no
embedded brown paint-flakes from the Squantic Hills road barrier that was
broken off. In short, Junkins finds absolutely no evidence that Christine was
used in either crime. Now jump ahead to Darnell's murder. Does Junkins
hustle over to the garage the next day to check on Christine? I would, if it
was me. The side of a house isn't a feather pillow either, and a car that has
just crashed through one must have sustained major damage, damage that
simply couldn't have been repaired overnight. And when he gets there, what
does he find?
Only Christine, without so much as a ding in her fender.
That led to another deduction, one that explained why Junkins had never put a
stakeout on the car, I hadn't been able to understand that, because he must
have suspected that Christine was involved. But in the end, logic had ruled
him—and perhaps it had killed him, as well. Junkins hadn't put a stakeout on
her because Christine's alibi, while mute, was every bit as iron-clad as those
of her owner. If he had inspected Christine immediately following the murder
of Will Darnell, Junkins must have concluded that the car could not have
been involved, no matter how persuasive the evidence to the contrary
seemed.
Not a scratch on her. And why not? It was just that Junkins hadn't had all the
facts. I thought about the odometer that ran backward, and Arnie saying,
Do'stlaringiz bilan baham: