Torch Song Read Online Free PDF Page B

Werner,” he said. He had already considered this; he gave her an abbreviated version of where his considerations had led him.
    â€œFirst, he skipped out on his parole officer, so they already have a bulletin out. Second, he might lead them to nearly three hundred thousand in cash and millions in paper, so they’re looking. Third, even if they get him, I’m not off the hook, because he’s bound to have as good an alibi as mine, or better. Fourth,” he finished, “they already think they know who torched those buildings; they aren’t looking for anyone else.” What they were doing, he knew, was sending flocks of agents out to every location, asking questions about a white car, a stocky man with dark hair turning gray, flashing his picture
    â€œSo where do we start today?” Constance asked when he became silent.
    â€œToss a coin. We can go over to Pittsfield and on down to Danbury, and Tuxedo Park, or we can go down to Middletown first and then Marla. Can’t do all three sites in one day and still get to Marla, I’m afraid. I thought we’d pack a suitcase, pile up in a motel tonight, then hang around Tuxedo Park tomorrow and ask a few questions.”
    â€œIt will be mountain driving all day if we go to Middletown,” Constance said, and he said, “Right.” They decided on Pittsfield and points south. An hour later when they started, the ice was gone, and most of the lingering snow with it.
    Charlie drove today, mostly on the interstates, and too fast. “Pittsfield,” he said as they neared the town in Massachusetts. “Two adjacent warehouses, one furniture, the other a wholesaler for craft supplies. Two dead, a watchman and a transient, who apparently sneaked in and went to sleep.” Soon they had entered a district of warehouses and car lots. Again the building sites they were looking for were closed off with a new fence, and again access would have been simple without the fence. Just warehouses with loading docks, drives, parking areas, a road behind everything, fields behind that, and nothing in the way of anyone with a sprayer filled with gas. He could have been heading out U.S. 7 before an alarm went off. What he couldn’t have done was hang around and watch the show.
    Charlie was tempted to skip the next one, but since he was driving on U.S. 7, and Danbury was on the way, he headed for the theater site. It would be the same, he thought, disgruntled, pondering the question of how Pete had been able to find such ideal places in such a short time. Had he drawn a circle on a map and worked only within the circumference? It looked like it. What he would give, he thought then, to find such a map with Pete’s prints all over it, with each town circled in red.
    â€œYou don’t suppose he knew any of those people who died, do you?” Constance asked. She was looking at the descriptions of the victims: a shopkeeper in Middletown, fifty-eight, lived there all his life; a chemist who had lived in Utica for twenty years, vice president of the paint company. The transient had been twenty-four, bumming around after serving in the navy for four years; the watchman, sixty-four… . She gave it up. Charlie didn’t bother to respond. He didn’t suppose.
    The theater in Danbury was constructed of brick and wood; it had been repaired, the first of the buildings to be burned, the first one fixed again. It would have been the biggest challenge, too, Charlie thought as he drove through an alley behind the building. On the other side of the alley was a medical complex with a large parking lot, and a Methodist church on the comer, but the alley was narrow, and this was practically in the center of town. He must have driven exactly where Charlie was edging along. This was the only place where he had run any risk at all. But at three in the morning, who would be up looking? He suspected Pulaski would be concentrating on Danbury, maybe going