The Body Looks Familiar
“Dave Corday hardly had his mail in front of him when police headquarters called: Ballistics had the murder gun, had fired slugs out of it, and it matched.
Corday had trouble keeping his voice steady. This was it. This was the payoff. There was no way Jim Latson could get out of this one; the slugs would lead right to his registered gun. He said, “Where’d you find the gun?”
The lab officer over at headquarters said, “Routine. We asked all city workers to keep an eye open. A sewer inspect...or found it under a manhole on Fifth Street. No fingerprints, of course.”
“Serial number?”
“For what it’s worth. It’s a Skoda, they’re reasonably rare, but a lot of G.I.’s smuggled them home as souvenirs. It’s never been registered in this country, that we can find out. Of course, some states don’t have registration, and some are slow reporting to Washington.”
Corday leaned forward till the edge of his desk cut into his belly.MoreLess
Corday had trouble keeping his voice steady. This was it. This was the payoff. There was no way Jim Latson could get out of this one; the slugs would lead right to his registered gun. He said, “Where’d you find the gun?”
The lab officer over at headquarters said, “Routine. We asked all city workers to keep an eye open. A sewer inspect...or found it under a manhole on Fifth Street. No fingerprints, of course.”
“Serial number?”
“For what it’s worth. It’s a Skoda, they’re reasonably rare, but a lot of G.I.’s smuggled them home as souvenirs. It’s never been registered in this country, that we can find out. Of course, some states don’t have registration, and some are slow reporting to Washington.”
Corday leaned forward till the edge of his desk cut into his belly.MoreLess
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