The Wrong Gun

“And you need all this by five o’clock?”

“Well, that’s the thing, Mark.”

“What’s that?”

“Now I need it by four o’clock.”

4

Tracy Garvin watched while Steve Winslow filed the serial number off the gun. Steve blew the metal scrapings away, held the gun up for her approval.

“What do you think?” he said.

She frowned, looked from one gun to the other. “Damned if I can tell the difference.”

“What about the R?”

She shrugged. “Your R looks like his R. Whether it looks like the original, I couldn’t tell.”

“Yeah, but it doesn’t have to. This gun doesn’t have to pass as the original, just as the substitute.”

“Think Timberlaine will notice?”

“There’s no reason why he should.”

“He’s an expert.”

“Yeah. He could tell a copy from the original. But to tell a copy from a copy? Unless there’s some particular flaw in the first copy that he’s noted-which I have no way of knowing-well, there’s no reason why he should.”

“You sure you can tell ’em apart?” Tracy said.

Steve grinned. “Good point, Tracy. This is where I mustn’t fumble.” He picked up the gun he’d been working on. “This is the substitute gun. I mean, this is the substitute substitute gun. The one Mark bought. This gun I set aside.”

Steve set the gun down on his desk. He picked up the other one. “This is the original substitute gun. The one Russ Timberlaine brought.” Steve gestured to the antique safe in the corner of his office. “This gun gets locked in the safe.”

Tracy frowned. “Are you sure? Last time you locked something in that safe it got stolen.”

“That was entirely different,” Steve said. “In this case, no one even knows we have the gun, and no one will know that it’s there. No, that wouldn’t be enough to stop me.”

“What would?”

“Not finding the combination.”

“No problem,” Tracy said. “After turning the office upside down to find it last time, you will pardon me, but I didn’t leave it with you. You want it, I got it.”

“Fine,” Steve said. “Get it, and let’s lock this sucker up before Timberlaine gets here.”

Tracy went to the outer office, copied down the combination and brought it back. Steve took it, spun the dials, opened the antique safe.

“O.K.,” he said. “The gun goes in here. So do our share of the bullets.”

He went back to his desk, got the gun and the glass tubes marked RT-SUB-2 and SW, put them all in the safe and locked it.

“There,” he said. “That leaves us with the substitute gun Mark bought, the original bullet Russ Timberlaine brought, and the bullet fired from the gun he brought us, RT-SUB.”

“Why isn’t it marked RT-SUB dash one?” Tracy asked. “Aren’t you telling him there’s a dash two?”

“He’s a busy man,” Steve said. “No need to bother him with too many details.”

“Like the fact you switched guns?”

“Exactly.”

“Why?”

“What?”

“Why did you switch guns, and why aren’t you telling him?”

“Isn’t that obvious?”

“Not really.”

“The man is not telling me the whole story, so why should I tell him the whole story?”

“That’s no answer.”

“Maybe not, but it’s the reason. If I don’t know what’s going on, I have to protect myself.”

“Bullshit,” Tracy said.

Steve raised his eyebrows. “I beg your pardon?”

Tracy smiled. “Give me a break. Protect yourself? Protect yourself from what? No, I’ll tell you what happened. Timberlaine came in here and told you his problem. And he didn’t just ask you to solve it, he told you how to solve it-take the gun and fire test bullets through it.” Tracy smiled again. “Well, it’s a real good solution, but it’s not yours. You’re not being anything but a messenger boy. Which you’re not willing to do. So you take charge of the situation by substituting a gun and not telling him you’re doing it.”

Steve grinned and shook his head. “That’s very interesting, Tracy. Were you a psych minor, by any chance?”

“Hey, this doesn’t really require study.” Tracy pointed to the Colt.45 lying on the desk. “Little boys playing with guns. And you substituting yours for Timberlaine’s.” She shook her head. “Freud would have had a field day.”

5

Steve Winslow handed the glass tube to Russ Timberlaine. “Here’s your original bullet back. You’ll notice what’s marked on the tube.”

Timberlaine took it, looked at it. “RT dash ORIG?”

“Russ Timberlaine Original. That designates the bullet you gave me, the bullet you claim came from the original gun.”

“It did.”

“I’m sure it did. But the ballistics expert is not taking your word for it. In terms of evidentiary value, the ballistics expert is prepared to testify that this is the bullet supplied by me. Or rather, by my private detective.”

“And this seal across the top?

“On that you will find the signature of the ballistics expert. With that seal in place, the tube itself has evidentiary value. In other words, that seal validates the label RT-ORIG, and guarantees that the bullet in the tube is the one you gave me.”

“But if that seal is broken, we can’t prove it?”

“Not at all. The ballistics expert has also marked the base of the bullet and would be prepared to identify it from that.” Steve smiled. “But as long as it’s in the tube, it’s a lot easier for us to identify.”

“I see.”

Steve passed over the second glass tube. “This is the bullet fired from the gun you gave me. The gun you claim was substituted for your own.”

Timberlaine looked at it. “RT-SUB?”

“For Russ Timberlaine Substitute,” Steve said. “Now, if you’d like me to keep these bullets for you, I will. I would probably even advise it. What was your intention?”

“No,” Timberlaine said. “I’ll hang on to them.”

“Fine,” Steve said. He picked up a gun from the desk and extended the handle toward Timberlaine. “Here,” he said, and when Timberlaine reached for it, added, “Be careful, it’s loaded.”

Timberlaine drew his hand back. “What?”