"YOU TOWED his car?" Sean said.
"His car was towed," Whitey said. "Not the same thing."
As they pulled out of the morning rush-hour traffic and down onto the East Buckingham exit ramp, Sean said, "For what kind of cause?"
"It was abandoned," Whitey said, whistling lightly through his teeth as he turned onto Roseclair.
"Where?" Sean said. "In front of the man's house?"
"Oh, no," Whitey said. "The car was found down in Rome Basin along the parkway. Lucky for us the parkway's State jurisdiction, ain't it? Appears someone jacked it, took it for a joyride, then abandoned it. These things happen, you know?"
Sean had woken up this morning from a dream in which he'd held his daughter and spoken her name, even though he didn't know it and couldn't remember what he'd said in the dream, so he was still a little foggy.
"We found blood," Whitey said.
"Where?"
"The front seat of Boyle's car."
"How much?"
Whitey held his thumb and index finger a hair's width apart. "A bit. Found some more in the trunk."
"In the trunk," Sean said.
"A lot more actually."
"So?"
"So, it's at the lab."
"No," Sean said. "I meant so what if you found blood in the trunk? Katie Marcus never got in anyone's trunk."
"That's a fly in the ointment, sure."
"Sarge, your search of the car's going to be tossed out."
"No."
"No?"
"The car was stolen and abandoned in State jurisdiction. Purely for insurance purposes and, I might add, in the best interest of the owner-"
"You did a physical search and filed a report."
"Ah, you're quick, boy."
They pulled up in front of Dave Boyle's house and Whitey raised the gearshift on the driver's column into park. He killed the engine. "I got enough to bring him in for a chat. That's all I want right now."
Sean nodded, knowing there was no point in arguing with the man. Whitey got to be a sergeant in the Homicide Unit by the dog-to-a-bone tenacity he had regarding his hunches. You didn't talk him out of his hunches, you rode them out.
"What about the ballistics?" Sean said.
"That's a weird one, too," Whitey said as they sat looking at Dave's house, Whitey making no move to leave just yet. "The gun was a thirty-eight Smith like we figured. Part of a lot stolen from a gun dealer in New Hampshire in 'eighty-one. The same gun that killed Katherine Marcus was involved in a liquor store holdup in 'eighty-two. Right here in Buckingham."
"The Flats?"
Whitey shook his head. "Up in Rome Basin, place called Looney Liquors. It was a two-man job, both guys wearing rubber masks. They came in through the back after the owner had shut the front doors, and the first guy into the store fired a warning shot that went through a bottle of rye and embedded in the wall. Rest of the robbery went smooth-'n'-styling, but the bullet was recovered. Ballistics matched it to the same gun as the one killed the Marcus girl."
"So that would tend to point in another direction, don't you think?" Sean said. "Nineteen-eighty-two, Dave was, like, seventeen and starting out at Raytheon. I don't think he was pulling any liquor store jobs."
"Don't mean the gun didn't eventually end up in his hands. Shit, kid, you know the way they get passed around." Whitey didn't sound as sure of himself as he had last night, but he said, "Let's go get him," and pushed open his door.
Sean got out of the passenger side and they walked up to Dave's place, Whitey thumbing the cuffs on his hip like he was hoping he'd get an excuse to use them.