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“Bingo,” Captain Kozniski said.
“Get on the radio, please, Stu,” Knotts said, “and have a car meet us here. And see if Philadelphia has any more on it.”
“There was another car,” Kozniski said. “You can see where they turned around.” He used his flashlight as a pointer.
“If it was a couple of kids who ‘borrowed’ it, and then had second thoughts,” Knotts said, “why get rid of it out here in the sticks?”
Kozniski went to the bumper and carefully examined it with his flashlight.
“It wasn’t pushed in here, either,” he said. “That rubber stuff on the bumper doesn’t have a mark on it. I mean, I was thinking maybe it broke down, and they had to leave it.”
“If they were going to dismantle it, there wouldn’t be anything left by now but the license plate,” Knotts said.
Captain Simons walked up to them.
“If the driver is apprehended,” he said, formally, “he is to be held for questioning about a homicide.”
“Double bingo,” Captain Kozniski said. “You telepathic, Major?”
“Absolutely,” Major Bill Knotts said. “You mean you didn’t know?”
He walked to the Ford, switched the radio frequency to the statewide frequency, established communication with state police headquarters in Trenton; and, after identifying himself and reporting they had located a car NCIC said was hot, and which the Philadelphia police were interested in for a homicide investigation, asked for the dispatch of the state police mobile crime lab van.
“And first thing in the morning, I think we had better get enough people out here to have a good look at the woods,” he said. “In the meantime, I’ll need somebody to guard the site. I pulled a car off patrol, but I’d like to get him released as soon as possible.”
They all got back in the Ford and waited for the patrol car to come to the scene.
Captain Kozniski, without really being aware he had done it, switched on the radar. A minute or so later, it came to life, and a car headed for Atlantic City came down the highway twenty-five miles an hour faster than the posted limit.
“You want to ticket him, Major?” Kozniski asked.
“God no, if we pulled him over and a major and two captains got out of the car, we’d give him a heart attack,” Knotts said.
The car was filled with chuckles and laughter.
Two minutes later, Kozniski saw in his rearview mirror the flashing lights on top of a patrol car.
“Here comes the car,” he said. Knotts got out of the Ford, explained the situation to the trooper, and then got back in.
He looked at his watch as Kozniski
got the Ford moving.
“Christ, we’re going to be late for the wake,” he said. “You better step on it, Gerry.”
****
The Wackenhut rent-a-cop on the Arch Street entrance to the Stockton Place underground garage stooped over and looked into the Ford LTD. Recognizing Louise Dutton, he smiled, went back to his little cubicle, and pushed the button raising the barrier.
Once inside the garage, Peter Wohl parked the LTD beside her yellow Cadillac convertible, and they got out.
She met him at the back of the LTD.
“If you find the time, dear, you might do the ironing,” Louise said as she dropped the keys to her apartment in his hand. “But don’t wear yourself out.”
“What I think I’ll do is call Sharon,” Peter said.
“You bastard!” she said, and kissed him quickly and got in her Cadillac convertible.
