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you fit into all this." His voice was the same fired monotone it had been earlier in the day. Now, as he materialized from the shadows, Charlie realized that the Sergeant had been watching them from the very beginning. Charlie also knew that he was trapped in the immediacy of the moment. This time there were no prepared or rehearsed answers. |
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"Do . . . do you know what's in there, Sergeant?" he stammered. |
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Seacraft nodded. "Uh-huh, but I didn't know if you knew. And that, Mr. Frazier, was the key to all this." |
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"How could I have known?" Charlie protested. |
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The officer sighed and rammed his hands down in the pockets of his baggy raincoat. It was soiled, and the pockets were torn. In the flickering, too dim light of the lantern, it occurred to Charlie that his adversary looked as though he was a fugitive from a garage sale. |
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"Easy enough," Seacraft said. "Men in my line of work are naturally suspicious, Mr. Frazier. If they aren't, they don't make very good cops. We think the worst and expect the worst. The worst thing about being a cop is that we' re usually right." |
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Charlie stared back at the man, unwilling for the moment to commit himself one way or the other. |
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