Free Touchy and Feely (Sissy Sawyer Mysteries) by Graham Masterton Page B

parked.
    ‘Thirty inches is too high for somebody lying flat on the ground, and too low for somebody kneeling. So my guess is that he was lying in the back of his vehicle, and if that’s correct it was probably a station wagon or a van, since he could open the tailgate or one of the rear doors to give himself a clear shot.’
    Steve opened his desk drawer and took out a flexible ruler. He pulled it out and measured thirty inches up from the carpet. ‘OK . . . I see what you mean.’
    Jim said, ‘We ran some computer simulations this morning, using various types of cars and station wagons and panel-vans. We tried aiming a sniper-type rifle from all of them. With the van and the station wagon, no problem. But even when the front windows of the sedan were fully lowered, the sill was thirty-seven inches off the ground, and the rear windows of most sedans can only be lowered halfway down, for child safety. This means that even if the shooter was kneeling on the front seat of the sedan and firing at an angle through the rear window, he couldn’t have made the shot that killed Howard Stanton.’
    ‘Maybe he opened one of the doors,’ Doreen suggested.
    ‘Well, we tried that too, but it still makes for a very awkward shot, especially if the shooter was right-handed. Apart from that, there would have been a much greater risk that somebody from a passing vehicle would have noticed him.’
    ‘Are you sure about your trajectory?’ asked Steve.
    ‘Within two or three degrees, either way. The cashier witnessed the moment of impact, and he was sure that Howard Stanton was holding his head straight. Even if he had tilted his head to one side, the shot still had to come from a very low firing position.’
    Steve leaned back in his chair. ‘So you’re pretty sure that we should be looking for a panel-van or a station wagon?’
    Jim tucked his shirt back into his belt. ‘My personal guess is a panel-van. It would give the perpetrator a much higher degree of concealment. Like, when he’s taken his shot, all he has to do is close the back door and nobody’s any the wiser. In a station wagon he’d have to climb out the back and anybody could see him doing that. If I’m wrong, I’ll take you both to Harbor Park and the lobster bakes will be on me.’
    Doreen flicked through her notebook. She was wearing a pond-green rollneck sweater that made her look even more tired and liverish than usual. ‘I talked to everybody at Howard Stanton’s office. They’re all very shocked, of course, although my feeling is that Howard Stanton wasn’t outstandingly popular. His boss said that he was “meticulous,” and his secretary said that he was “very fussy.” One of his customers was there, and he said that if it had been possible to cross “i’s” as well as dot them, Howard Stanton would have done it. Nobody actually said “pain in the rear end” but the suggestion was there.’
    ‘So . . . he wasn’t especially well loved?’
    Doreen shook her head. ‘They trusted him, for sure, and they respected him for all the business he brought in, but, no, I couldn’t find anybody who felt any great affection for him.’
    ‘Do you think anybody felt insufficient affection for him to blow his brains out?’
    ‘Mmm . . . I don’t think so. There was an angry young man called Kevin Westenra who told me that he had argued with Stanton over his expenses, but he certainly didn’t seem to be the kind of person who would put out a contract, or try to shoot Stanton himself. Besides, Westenra was watching TV at his girlfriend’s parents’ house in Cornwall when Stanton was killed.’
    ‘Lieutenant-colonel Lynch just called me from headquarters,’ said Steve.
    ‘In person? Wow, you’re honored.’
    ‘Not really. The media are crawling all over him, and he’s very anxious that we don’t let this baby go cold.’
    ‘Well, good for him! I hope you told him that we don’t have a single eyewitness, nor any idea why anybody