Some time last night, some person or persons unknown
gave him a butt-and-bayonet job with a German Mauser out of a rack in his
shop. A most unpleasantly thorough job. I went to see him this morning,
hoping to badger something out of him about those pistols that are
missing from the Fleming collection, and found the body. I notified the
State Police, and just came from there."
"For God's sake!" The shock was genuine, too, now. "Have the police any
idea--?"
"Not the foggiest. If some of the Fleming pistols turn up at his place,
I might think that had something to do with it. So far, though, they
haven't. I gave the shop a once-over-lightly before the cops arrived, and
couldn't find anything."
She tried to take a puff from her cigarette and found that she had broken
it in her fingers. She lit a new one from the mangled butt.
"When did it happen?" She tried to make the question sound casual.
"That I couldn't say, either. Around midnight, would be my guess. They
might be able to fix a no-earlier time." An idea occurred to him, and he
smiled.
"But that's dreadful!" She really meant that. "It's a terrible thing to
happen to anybody, being killed like that." She stopped just short of
adding: "even Rivers.
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