“What did Donleavy say?” 1 asked.
“He talked to Harry.”
“Raines was here when you called the Thomas woman?s apartment?” 1 said with surprise.
“Yes.”
“And... ?“
“Sam had to go out to his place and wait for a phone call. He said he?d call us when he got there.
About forty minutes later he called back.”
“Did you talk to him?”
Seaborn nodded. “Yes. He told me he had to talk to Dutch Morehead at eight o?clock and that he
would ask Harry to come out to his place and they?d have it out. He said he felt Harry would be
reasonable, that we?d done nothing really wrong, nothing illegal. Then he talked to Harry.”
“Did Raines say anything?”
“He just listened for a minute and then said, „All right, I?ll see you there.? Then he hung up and left.
He didn?t say anything else to me, just turned around and stalked out of here. That?s the way Harry
Raines was. He couldn?t forgive anything. Mister Perfect. All he ever cared about was his career, his
goddamn career. He wouldn?t have been anything if he hadn?t married Findley?s money.”
“And you were sitting here all by yourself when he was shot,” I said.
He nodded.
“That?s your alibi, is it? Mister, if I were the jury, you?d have one foot strapped in the chair already.
You have a motive, you had the opportunity, and you haven?t got an alibi.”
His shoulders sagged. He looked out the window again and then dry-washed his hands, like a funeral
director pitching for the solid copper casket. Sweat twinkled on his upper lip and across his forehead.
“I didn?t kill Harry Raines,” he repeated. “Neither did Sam. He was miles away when it happened. We
don?t know who killed him or why. I assumed it had something to do with these other killings.”
“I?m sure it does, in some way or another,” I said.
The phone rang, startling both of us. He stared at it for several rings, then picked it up as if he were
afraid it would burn him.
“Hello? Yes He looked over at me wild-eyed and mouthed the word “Sam.”
I held out my hand and he gave me the phone.
“Sam, this is Jake Kilmer.”
Silence. Ten or twenty seconds of silence. When he finally answered he was quite pleasant.
“Sorry about our lunch date, old man,” he said.
“It?s been a pretty grim day all the way around,” I said. I looked up at the warehouse. The lights in the
