The Butcher's Boy Read Online Free PDF Page B

"You can board at nine fifty-five at Gate Forty-one, Mr. Hart. Your bags will be transferred automatically, of course."

    As Elizabeth and Hart wandered across the lobby, she checked the big wall clock: nine thirty . Not enough time to relax, too much time to wait comfortably in one of those blue plastic chairs. She was glad when Hart said,
    "How about a drink while we're waiting?"

    They sat in a dark corner of the bar with their backs to the wall. The traffic was fairly thin, so the waitress was there for their order immediately. She scurried off to get them their drinks. She was back so fast that they hadn't said anything to each other.

    "I've been thinking about this case," said Elizabeth . "It's going to be a little bewildering."

    "They always are," said Hart. "This one is going to be more than that.
    You'll be better off if you think of it as preliminary research instead of a case of its own."

    "What do you mean?"

    "You're looking for professional touches. If you find any, that's about all you'll find, most likely. There's not much chance we'll make any arrests. If it's a professional there won't be anything to connect him with Veasy, and more likely than not we've never heard of him before. And this time there isn't even a case on record of anyone who works that way, so if it's a pattern this is the first of the series."

    "So I shouldn't get my hopes up," said Elizabeth . "I haven't."

    "Oh I don't know," said Hart. "Hope doesn't cost anything. But we've got very little this time. In a truck explosion like that there can't be any fingerprints.
    But there may be something connected with the method or the circumstances that'll be useful later."

    "I've got a few ideas to start with," said Elizabeth . "Maybe we'll get lucky."

    He nodded and sipped his drink. "Maybe, if we're thorough and careful and don't make any mistakes ourselves. But the best thing to do at the start of it is to forget about looking for anything in particular. Just look and write down everything you see or hear. It may make sense to somebody a year from now."

    Elizabeth smiled to herself. He was a man all right— telling her not to get her hopes up, and then suggesting that it would all work out in a way that was too far off for anybody to predict. The endless replay of John Wayne handing the woman a pistol and saying ominously, "Save the last bullet for yourself" before he climbs over the stockade with a knife clenched in his teeth.

    Elizabeth picked up her purse. “ Nine fifty . Time to go."

19
    He bolted the last inch of his Scotch, tossed some money on the table, and followed her out into the lobby. One more short flight, she thought, and then the chance for some rest.

    He walked out of the restaurant and bought a Denver Post from the vending machine at the curb. Time to start doing some research on him. If they didn't publish his schedule, at least they might have a picture of him. You had to start somewhere. He remembered hearing a story about Dave Burton trying to collect on a next-door neighbor once. Probably not true, but you never knew.
    Things like that could happen if you weren't careful, and the big ones like this were worth taking a little extra time with. For that kind of money, why not? And this was the last one for awhile. Another one of Eddie Mastrewski's proverbs.
    Always take it slow when you're tired. The police can be dumb as gorillas, make a million mistakes, but at the end of it they still get paid and go home to watch television. You make one and you're dead. If the police don't get you the client will because he'll get scared.

    Getting out had to be the simplest part this time. He'd thought of that part right away, as soon as he'd heard the timing. A charter flight to Las Vegas, booked in advance. There was some kind of rule about that. Charter flights had to be advance booking, so the police wouldn't look closely for fugitives there. If you couldn't leave from another town, a charter flight wasn't