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“Where was it left?”
“In the parking lot outside. We don’t have any secure garage space.”
“Was it locked?”
“Yes,” Hurst answered, “and I was given the keys. I gave them to Hurd for his search.”
“Hurd, was the van locked when you got to it?”
“Yes.”
“So the van was in the parking lot for how long before you found the gun?”
“From shortly after midnight until around eight-thirty A.M., when I arrived.”
“Is the parking lot lighted at night?”
“Poorly.”
Hurst spoke up. “The van is from the late seventies. Anybody with a coat hanger could have opened it in thirty seconds. The question is, who would gain by planting the gun?”
“Whoever shot Chet Marley,” Holly replied. “That seems pretty straightforward.”
Hurd Wallace was shaking his head. “I think it’s much more likely that Sweeney bought the gun locally, and that he’s our man.”
“He didn’t behave like a guilty man,” Holly said. “Oxenhandler brought that out in court this morning. When he was approached by an officer, he made no attempt to hide the
chief’s gun. He didn’t run, he didn’t resist. He didn’t behave like a drifter who had shot the chief of police twenty-four hours before.” She turned to Hurst. “Bob, did Sweeney give up anything at all during your interrogation?”
Hurst shook his head. “No, he was solid.”
“And the question of the make of the gun didn’t come up?”
“No, I don’t think it did.”
“Did you bring up the Doherty murder at all?”
“Not until late in the interrogation. I was trying to get him to cop to the chief’s shooting before I got into that.”
“Well,” Holly said, “I can’t fault anybody’s conduct in all this; it was handled by the book. I’ll call Marty Skene and tell him what we know. He’s very pissed off, and we need to defuse him right now before he starts making charges. You two return to your duties.”
The two men left her office, and Holly called Marty Skene. “I know you’re angry about this, and I am, too, but we’re both going to have to sit on it.” She told him about the burglary report. “Wallace and Hurst think that Sweeney bought the gun locally and used it on the chief, and I have to say that’s the most plausible explanation.”
“Maybe so,” Skene said, sounding placated, “but you’re going to have to face the possibility that somebody in your department planted that gun in the van.”
“I know that, believe me, and I intend to pursue it, but I’ll have to do so quietly. Was anybody from the local press at the hearing this morning?”
“Yes, their regular court reporter.”
“We’ll have to see how they play this. Maybe they’ll think Schwartz’s testimony torpedoed your case.”
“Maybe, but I wouldn’t count on it. You’d better be prepared to answer questions.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” She said good-bye and hung up. Her phone buzzed immediately. “Hello?”
“Chief, Evelyn Martin, the court reporter for the local paper, is on the line.”
“Tell her I’ll call her back.” She hung up and let her mind range over the problem. Finally, she got up and went into Jane Grey’s office and closed the door. “Jane,” she said, “do you know anything about the relationship between Hurd Wallace and his ex-wife?”
