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Dawkins' pudgy face was implaccable. He had ugly little needlepoint eyes that pierced rather than assessed. Driver noticed that the man never seemed to blink. He was the kind of man you couldn't stare down, and Driver knew his rank meant nothing to the man. "Nothing personal, Colonel. This is just for the record. Obviously you have to realize that everything you tell us here tonight will be checked and double-checked." |
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"Surely you don't think I had anything to do with this," Harry stammered. |
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Dawkins ignored the question. "Why don't you just tell us what happened after you finished your stint at the club?" |
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Driver blinked, glanced at the young Air Force Lieutenant from the Pepperell Air Provost Office and started over. If anyone was keeping score, the Inspector had won the first round. |
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"The rain had turned to ice while I was in the Club. I had a helluva time even getting to my car." He hesitated for a moment, wondering just how much detail the Inspector really wanted. "I had to leave my car at the bottom of the hill. I walked up the hill from Third Street and came in the house. There weren't any lights on. I found Flora, er, Miss Saint Quentin, in the bathroom, just like you saw her. I didn't touch a thing. I've been around |
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