principal, a finder of bodies, an authorized investigator and if the reporters get here soon, source material for a good story.”
Another car drove up and parked in the middle of the street. The medical examiner got out and walked past me. With an amused smile he said, “You again, eh?”
I nodded. “Some people have all the luck.”
Candace was watching the exchange closely and waited until the ME had gone inside. “I think we have things to talk about, Mr. Hammer.” She didn’t use my first name this time.
“I’m sure we have.”
Pat called to the pair of them and waved them inside. He pushed his hat back and wiped his face with his hand. “I guess you got the picture,” he said to me.
“Unless your guys turn up something else.”
“Smiley wouldn’t keep records of anything like this going down, but someplace there’s a paper trail.”
I made sure nobody could overhear me and said, “There might be something better than that.”
He watched me out of the corner of his eye. “Like what?”
“If the first killer, Penta, was the one who made the appointment to make sure I was in the office, then I may have his voice on tape.”
“Where is it?”
I took the cassette out of my pocket and handed it to him.
“Who else knows about it?”
“Just Velda.”
He stuck the tape in his jacket pocket. “I’m going to keep this in my own department for a while.”
The way he said it, I knew something was irritating him. Before I could ask him what it was, I saw Jason McIntyre sidling past on the other side of the street, his eyes wide with curiosity, but his actions reflecting the nervousness he couldn’t hide. I said, “There’s a guy who can identify the body, Pat.”
“Where?”
I pointed Jason out and Pat called a patrolman over and told him to pick him up. The old guy almost fainted with fright when the cop took his arm, but he went along, was taken inside and came out a minute later shaking, his face a ghastly white. But he had made the ID. It was Richard Smiley, all right. Jason went to the curb and puked.
Candace and her boss came out together. He seemed to be a little glassy-eyed, but she was taking it right in stride. For a moment she looked toward me, but two trucks, remote TV units from rival networks, were coming down the street, swerved in hard and disgorged their crews with military precision. In seconds they had targeted on Candace, switched to her boss, sought out other high-priority subjects while one cameraman was trying to edge inside the building.
“How are you going to call this shot when you’re on camera, Pat?”
“Usual. The investigation continues, we have a suspect, we expect an arrest shortly.”
“Motive?”
“Apparent robbery will do for now. His wallet was open, empty and lying on his lap. A crumpled ten-spot was on the floor as if the killer had dropped it pulling the money out of his wallet.”
“Think it’ll stick?” I asked him.
“No reason why not. He’d just come back from a good day at the track, he was alone, somebody knew he’d be loaded and jumped him. Smiley might have been squirrelly to come in at that hour of the morning but that’s the way he always was.”
“If they buy it,” I said, “the heat’ll come off for a couple more days.”
“But what’s your explanation, Mike?”
I grinned at him and he frowned. “All I have to do is make a statement to the police. Speculation isn’t my game.”
Without us seeing her, Candace had come around the back and said, “But if you speculated, Mr. Hammer, what would you say?”
Pat said, “Go ahead and tell her.”
I reached out and straightened the lapels of her jacket. “I’d say somebody just didn’t want old Smiley in a position to identify him or his pals.” I paused for a second before adding, “And that’s pure speculation.”
“Captain?” she queried.
“Miss Amory, speculation is what no cop does out loud. When the statements are made, the reports are in and I’ve
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