“Come in, won’t you?” she answered, and he had the distinct impression that if this had had something to do with Joaquim, she’d have slammed the door in his face and then fired a machine-gun volley through it. The protective Mrs. Miller led Hawes into the living room. Joaquim Miller turned from the television set.
“This is Detective Hawes,” his wife said.
Miller rose, his hand extended. He was a thin man of about thirty-three, with a narrow face topped with a brown crew cut. His eyes were warm and intelligent. His grip on Hawes’s hand was firm.
“Glad to meet you, Mr. Hawes,” he said. “Have you found him yet?”
“No, not yet,” Hawes replied.
“They’re looking for a man named Phil Kettering,” Miller explained to his wife. “Mr. Hawes told me about it on the phone this afternoon.”
Mrs. Miller nodded. Her eyes did not leave Hawes’s face.
“Sit down, Mr. Hawes,” Miller said. “Can we get you something to drink?”
“No, thank you.”
“Glass of beer? You’re allowed a glass of beer, aren’t you?”
“I’d rather not, thank you.”
“Okay, then,” Miller said. “What would you like me to tell you?”
“Everything you remember about Phil Kettering and Sy Kramer,” Hawes said.
Miller began talking, and while he talked Hawes took notes and thought, “Police work is simply getting everything in triplicate.” Miller was telling the same story Fielding had told, the same story Ruther had told, the same story Murphy had given to Carella earlier that day. It was getting a little boring, to tell the truth. Hawes wished for some outstanding deviation from the facts, something he could pounce on. There was no deviation. Miller told the story straight down the line.
“Have you seen Kettering since?” Hawes asked.
“Since the day he left the lodge?” Miller asked.
“Yes,” Hawes said.
“No, I haven’t.”
“Do you own a gun, Mr. Miller?”
“No.”
“You don’t?”
“No, sir.”
“Didn’t you hunt on that-”
“I rented that gun, Mr. Hawes. I’m not a real hunter, you see. Peg was visiting her mother in California. We don’t get along, Peg’s mother and me. She didn’t want Peg to marry me, but we got married, anyway.”
“She didn’t think Joaquim would amount to anything. But he’s amounted to a lot.”
“Please, Peg,” Miller said.
“Well, you have. He earns a very good salary, Mr. Hawes. We’ve been able to save quite a bit between his salary and the land.”
“Peg, can’t you-?”
“What land?” Hawes asked. “What do you mean?”
Miller sighed. “I speculate,” he explained. “I buy and sell land. With all these housing developments springing up all over the place, it’s been pretty profitable.”
“How do you work it?”
“Sheer speculation. I pick a spot I think the developers will eventually get to. I buy it fairly cheap, and then sell it high when they decide to build on it. It won’t last much longer, though. They’ve pretty much built everywhere they
“How much have you made with such speculation?” Hawes asked.
“That’s our business,” Miller said.
“I’m sorry,” Hawes said. “I didn’t mean to get personal, but I would like to know.”
“We’ve made about thirty thousand,” Miller’s wife said.
“Peg-”
“Well, why shouldn’t we tell?”
“Peg, shut-”
“We’re saving it,” Mrs. Miller said. “We’re going to build a big house some-”
Mrs. Miller fell into a resentful silence. Hawes cleared his throat.
“What kind of work do you do with Byrd, Mr. Miller?”
“I’m an electronics engineer.”
“I know. But what are you working on?”
Miller smiled as if his team had scored a point. “I couldn’t answer that one if I wanted to.”
“Why not?”
“Classified,” Miller said.
“I see. Just to reiterate-you do not own a gun, is that correct?”
“That’s absolutely correct.”
“What kind of a gun did you rent when you went away?”
“A twenty-two.”
“Would you remember what kind of a gun Kettering was using?”
“I’m not good on guns,” Miller said. “It was a big-game rifle-a powerful name. A name that sounded like a big-game gun.”
“A Savage?” Hawes asked.
“Yes,” Miller said. “Kettering was using a Savage.”
In the street again, Hawes glanced up at the apartment building. He saw Miller standing at the window, watching him. He ducked away from the window quickly when he realized Hawes had seen him. Hawes sighed and started for his car. It was then that he saw the man. The man moved behind a tree quickly, but not quickly enough. Hawes had caught a glimpse of him, and he walked to his car slowly now, opened the door, started the engine, and waited. The man did not move from behind the tree. Hawes set the car in motion. From the corner of his eye, he saw the man run for an automobile and enter it. The car was a Chevrolet, but Hawes could not distinguish the license-plate number in the darkness. Behind him, he heard the car starting.
