Farnsworth. The District Attorney of Scott County had
a mustache which failed miserably to make him look like Tom Dewey; he
impressed Rand as the sort of offensive little squirt who compensates
for his general insignificance by bad manners and loud-mouthed
self-assertion. Corporal Kavaalen, standing in the doorway of the shop,
caught sight of Rand and his companion as they got out of the car and
came to meet them, hustling them around the crowd and into the shop
before anybody could notice and recognize them.
"That was a good tip, about the telephone," he said softly. "Mick checked
at the Rosemont exchange. Rivers got a long-distance call from Topeka
last night; ten fifteen to ten seventeen. We got the night long distance
operator out of bed, and she confirmed it; Rivers took the call himself.
He gets a lot of long distance calls in the evenings; she knew his
voice." He corrected himself, shifting to the past tense and glancing, as
he did, at the chalk outline on the floor, now scuffed by many feet, and
the dried bloodstains. "You say this puts Gresham in the clear?"
"Absolutely," Rand assured him. "He was at home from nine twenty-two on."
He introduced Pierre Jarrett, and explained their mission.
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