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“That’s great! Who shot him?”
“He doesn’t remember that part—nothing, in fact, since our last meeting, when he hired me.”
“That’s bad news,” Jackson said. “Is his memory going to improve?”
“Nobody knows. I’ll come back to see him tomorrow and
see how he’s doing.”
“Do you really think they might try again?”
“If they thought he could identify them, they’d have to.”
“Has it ever occurred to you,” Jackson said, “that they might find it convenient for you to be dead?”
“Yes,” she said. “Somebody had a go at me very recently.” She told him about the incident with the gas bottle and the parachute flare. “But I can take care of myself,” she said finally.
“I hope you won’t mind if I help,” he said.
“And how would you do that?”
“I’ll just keep an eye on you, mostly in the evenings.”
She was surprised at how much the offer pleased her. “I think I could get used to that,” she said.
“Who do you suspect in the department?” he asked, changing the subject.
“I don’t know who to suspect. When you told me about the gun in the van, I thought I had Hurd Wallace cold, but it turns out that his ex-wife’s place was burgled three months ago. She reported the gun stolen at that time. The most plausible scenario I have right now is that your client bought the gun from whoever stole it.”
“You know that’s not the case,” he said.
“How do I know that?”
“Because whoever shot Chet killed Hank Doherty. Sammy didn’t even know who Doherty was, let alone have a motive for killing him.”
“Why do you think the same people killed Hank?”
“I hear things. I heard he was killed with the chief’s shotgun.”
“You heard right.”
“Well, we know Chet didn’t kill him, don’t we?”
“That’s what I think.”
“So Sam Sweeney is out of it.”
“Yes, he is. Frankly, I was afraid somebody might kill him, once he was identified as a suspect. That’s why I ran him out of town; it would be easy to hang it on a dead guy.”
“Good move.”
“I wonder where Sam’s Colt thirty-two is?” she said.
“In a killer’s pocket, probably.” He drove up to the airport terminal and stopped. “I’ll follow you home,” he said.
“Don’t bother, I’ll be all right.”
“Are you armed?”
