Free 16 Hitman by Parnell Hall

up."
    "It's somewhat frustrating answering stupid questions that have
nothing do with the investigation."
    "Oh, I assure you my questions have something to do with the
investigation. They may not jibe with your theory, but then you're
not in charge. To go back to the question you've been evading,
where were you between twelve and one?"
    "I don't know."
    "You don't know?"
    "No. It's been a busy day. I've been in Brooklyn and Queens. I
stopped in at the office. I stopped in to see Sergeant MacAullif."
    "What time was that?"
    "What?"
    "When you saw MacAullif?"
    "I don't know."
    "Was it between twelve and one? It was after, wasn't it?"
    "I don't know."
    "How do you get paid?"
    The change of subject threw me. "What?"
    "The law firm you work for. How do they pay you? By the job?"
    "By the hour."
    "Does that include travel time?"
    "Of course"
    "Let's see your time sheet."
    I hesitated.

    "I could get a subpoena duces tecum, force you to produce it."
    "That would be pretty stupid, don't you think?"
    Crowley had a great deal of poise for a youngster. He didn't get
niad. He merely waited patiently. Which was harder to deal with
than some aggressive prick trying to break me down.
    I popped open my briefcase, produced my time sheets.
    "Okay," Crowley said. "The case in Brooklyn you put down for
two hours. Ditto the one in Queens. If you start at nine, that would
take you to one. You had a meeting at the lawyer's, and a meeting
with MacAullif. Which came first?"
    "The lawyer."
    "And that was after you did the cases?"
    "That's right."
    "Well, say those two cases took you nine to one. Two hours
each is an estimate, and probably a generous one. If each case was
actually an hour and a half, that would leave you an extra hour. For
whatever mischief you might be up to."
    "Geez, it's bad enough being accused of a crime without you
messing with my time sheets."
    "Here's the thing. Say you knock off Brooklyn-Queens in three
hours, not four. Well, that leaves you an hour to get into trouble. If
you did, I imagine you'd contact your lawyer. If, as you say, he
wants nothing to do with it, you might want to contact your
police buddy. Only cops don't condone murder. Even when it's a
friend."
    "Your theory is that on my lunch hour, which I stole from my
boss by manipulating my time sheets, I murdered a mob hitman.
Then I ran and told my lawyer, who wanted nothing to do with
me, so I went and told a cop, who turned me in. Is that what you
think I did?"
    "No. That's the club I hold over your head to get you to tell
what you know. If that doesn't scare you, we throw in the fact your
cop buddy's in a lot of trouble for trying to cover for you."

    It occurred to me long about then that in attempting to function as my own attorney I'd been trying to act like a lawyer and
talk like a lawyer instead of thinking like a lawyer. I'd sort of lost
sight of the main object. I asked myself, what would Richard do?
    "Am I under arrest?"
    "You're just answering questions"
    "I'm not under arrest?"
    "No.
    "Good. Then I'm leaving."
    I got up and walked out.
    No one stopped me.

     

is
    I STAKED OUT HARMON HIGH. First I made damn sure I wasn't
being followed. In solving the murder of Victor Marsden, I had
one small advantage on the cops. I knew who did it.
    It was no use telling Crowley, because he wouldn't believe me.
Kessler had no record. Convincing the cops that a professor, whose
biggest concern should be grading papers, had just carried out a
mob hit was going to be a tough sell.
    I needed proof. I didn't know how I was going get it. That
wasn't my concern. My main concern was looking the son of a
bitch in the eyes and telling him off.
    What a prick. The guy didn't need me. I served no useful purpose. Clearly, he intended to go through with the hit all the time.
He wasn't even straight with me about not doing it in the apartment. He had lied to me every step of the way, and made sure my
employment did no good. What had he needed me