Jesse said.
Suit grinned.
“You got some problem with the Lincolns?”
he
said.
“Too nice,” Jesse said. “Too
cooperative.”
“You’d prefer they were surly?”
“Suit, you been studying up,” Jesse said.
“Surly?”
“I’m a high school grad,” Suit
said. “I know a bunch of words.
Sometimes I say enticing, or symbolic.
What’s
wrong with the Lincolns?”
“They bother me. Lot of people are a little uncomfortable when
the cops come and want to look at your gun.”
“They knew nobody got shot with their gun,” Suit
said.
“Some people would want to check with their attorney before
letting us test their weapon,” Jesse said. “People are uneasy with
cops.”
“Maybe, since they had nothing to hide they didn’t want to act
like they did.”
“Maybe,” Jesse said.
“Well, soon as we fire the thing we’ll know.”
“We’ll know the bullets that killed our people weren’t fired
from that gun,” Jesse said.
“You think they had another gun?”
“Two.”
“You think they did it?”
“Until I got a better suspect,” Jesse said,
“yes.”
“Her too?”
“Yes.”
“Even if the gun don’t match,”
Suit said.
“It won’t match,” Jesse said.
“They knew that when they gave it
to us.”
“You never said nothing to them about their car being parked up
at the Paradise Mall when Barbara Carey got killed,” Suit said.
He wiped cinnamon sugar off his chin with the back of his hand.
“No need to tell them all we know,” Jesse said.
“Because you got some kind of instinct that they’re the ones?”
Suit said.
“Because there’s something very phony about them,” Jesse
said.
“Lot of that going around in Paradise,”
Suit
said.
“But they’re the only phonies whose car was parked ten feet from
