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“But what happened with this dead guy?” I said. “The body was found at eight o’clock, so the prints went in when? Eight thirty, earliest. But Baker was already telling me there was no match on file when they were talking to me at two thirty. I remember the time, because I was looking at the clock. That’s only six hours. If it took fourteen hours to find out that I’m in there, how could it take just six hours to say the dead guy’s not in there?”
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“Damn,” I said to myself. “Can you believe that?”
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I SAT IN SILENCE FOR A LONG TIME. I WAS WORRIED. I FELT like somebody in a kid’s book who falls down a hole. Finds himself in a strange world where everything is different and weird. Like Alice in Wonderland. Did she fall down a hole? Or did she get off a Greyhound in the wrong place?
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“I mean it, Roscoe,” I said. “Stick with me and you’ll be OK.”
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THE NUMBER FINLAY HAD HANDED ME REACHED MOLLY Beth Gordon’s private line. She answered on the first ring. I gave her my name. It made her cry.
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Then I began to understand that, too.
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