The first blow, no doubt, had been fatal--it could have been any of the
three stabs in the chest--but the killer had given him two more, probably
while he was on the floor. Then, grasping the rifle in both hands, he had
stood over his victim and pinned the body to the floor. That last blow
could have only been inspired by pure anger and hatred.
Yet, apparently, Rivers had been unaware of his visitor's murderous
intentions, even while the rifle was being taken from the rack. Rand
strolled back through the shop, looking about. Someone had been here with
Rivers for some time; the dealer and another man had sat by the fire,
drinking and smoking. On the low table was a fifth of Haig & Haig, a
siphon, two glasses, a glass bowl containing water that had evidently
melted from ice-cubes, and an ashtray. In the ashtray were a number of
River's cigarette butts, all holder-crimped, and a quantity of ash, some
of it cigar-ash. There was no cigar-butt, and no band or cellophane
wrapper.
The fire on the hearth had burned out and the ashes were cold. They were
not all wood-ashes; a considerable amount of paper--no, cardboard--had
been burned there also. Poking gently with the point of a sword he took
from a rack, Rand discovered that what had been burned had been a number
of cards, about six inches by four, one of which had, somehow, managed to
escape the flames with nothing more than a charred edge.
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