'Yes.'
'Is that O?' I said, 'as in say can you see?' or as in 'story of '?'
'The latter.'
'Is it his real name?' I said.
'I doubt it.'
'I'll need to talk with him.'
'That should be interesting,' Christopholous said.
CHAPTER 7
I sat in DeSpain's office in the back corner of the squad room in the neat, square, one-story, red-brick Port City Police Station.
DeSpain had his coat off and his gun unholstered and lying on the desk next to the phone.
'Damn thing gets me in the ribs every time I lean back,' he said.
'Trouble with the nines,' I said.
'They're not comfy.'
DeSpain shrugged the way a horse does when a fly lands on him.
'You got something on the Sampson killing, or you just in to chew the fat?'
'I was hoping you had something.'
'Here's everything I got,' DeSpain said.
'Killer was probably male. There's no agreement on what he was wearing, except that it was black. Had on some kind of a black mask with eye holes cut into it. He came in during the play and stood at the top of the aisle maybe ten minutes. People figured he was part of the play. The piece might have been a target gun, though to tell you the truth none of the eyewitnesses know a handgun from their pee pee.
What everybody agrees is, he fired one shot and put the gun away, and walked out. Nobody saw where he went. ME took a.22 long out.'
DeSpain picked up his gun and aimed it over my shoulder.
'Bingo,' he said.
'Through his heart.'
'Maybe the guy's a shooter,' I said.
'Sort of showing off with the.22.'
'There was a fad a while back like that,' DeSpain said.
'Mob guys were using.22s.'
'Or maybe it's the only gun he could get his hands on.'
'And it was a lucky shot,' DeSpain said.
'What do you know about the victim?'
'What is this, Travelers' fucking Aid?' DeSpain said.
'Hey, I'm telling you all I know,' I said.
'You haven't told me shit,' DeSpain said.
'True, but it's all I know.'
DeSpain shook his head and turned the gun on his desk in a slow circle with his finger through the trigger guard.
'Don't know much more than you do. Studied acting in New York. Was in some plays I never heard of in places I never heard of. Got a job up here. Kept to himself. Stayed out of trouble. Sound like we're closing in?'
'Prints?'
'No record of him ever being fingerprinted.'
'So what do you think?' I said.
'I think neither one of us knows shit,' DeSpain said. He kept the gun turning slowly.
'Well,' I said.
'It was about something?'
'Usually is,' DeSpain said.
'Yeah, but this more than most,' I said.
'I mean, if you just want the guy dead you don't dress up in a black costume and shoot him dead on stage in a crowded theater.'
'Wouldn't be how I'd do it,' DeSpain said.
