Ponderously Wilson got to his feet. “I’m new to the village. I moved into my sister’s house over on Elm Court last Thursday. Maybe one of you know her. Mrs. Zoller?”
MacIver nodded. “The widow lady. Spends every Saturday afternoon washing her new sedan. I see her — I live in the same neighborhood.”
“At any rate,” Wilson went on, “yesterday was my first day on my job as librarian. I closed the place promptly at nine and went out to my car and started the engine. As I drove down the driveway I thought I spotted something white next to the building. I came very near not stopping. What I mean is, it was only a few minutes’ drive to home, but I was tired and wet and all. Oh, dear, I am making a mess of this, aren’t I?” He looked in confusion at Fosse.
“Quite all right,” rumbled the detective. “Just tell the story in your own way, Mr. Wilson.”
“Well, since the library was in my care I thought I’d better investigate. That’s when I found Mr. Berlinger, lying on the ground next to the driveway. It was his cloth raincoat I’d seen. I tried to get back into the library to call someone, but I’d already set the spring locks and I don’t as yet have a key to them. Heavens, the trouble I had finding a telephone at that hour of the night. I finally located an all-night drug store and called from there. I–I guess that’s all, Mr. Fosse.”
“Wilson’s call came in at nine thirty,” said Fosse. “I called for an ambulance and a patrol car. Then Roberts and me drove to the library. Mr. Wilson had waited for us, but we didn’t keep him long on account of his old sports car had a rip in the canvas top, and water was pouring in on him. We checked Berlinger while the attendants were putting him in the ambulance, but if there was any paint or other evidence on his clothes it had been washed away by the rain. But with the patrol-car spotlight we got a good look at where Berlinger had been lying.”
Fosse fished into a pocket and brought out a small envelope which he proceeded to open. “We found something near the body,” he said. “Personally I don’t think it means a thing, but you might think different.” He shook out the contents — two small bits of ridged glass.
“These came from an automobile sealed-beam headlight,” he said. “At first we figured we’d find out who among the people in the library that evening had a busted headlight on the front of his car.”
“And who did?” asked Mr. Strang.
Fosse let out a deep sigh. “We have been working on this thing since ten o’clock last night,” he said. “We checked the people who were in the library six ways from Sunday. The cards from the books that were taken out helped there. Finally we got a complete list. Then we went back and looked at their cars. Fortunately most people leave them outside. We only had to wake up a couple of ’em to get into their garages.”
Fosse pounded his fist against the table. “Not one of the cars we saw had a busted headlight,” he said. “Furthermore none of ’em had a light replaced recently. So it’s my guess the glass had been lying there quite a while and has nothing to do with this case. But we do figure the car last night hit Berlinger hard enough to make a dent.”
“So that’s why I’m here.” Mr. Strang could feel the sense of relief flooding through him. “Simply because my old car has dents in its fenders.”
“The right front fender, to be exact,” said Fosse.
“My jalopy gets creased by a taxi and right away I’m a criminal,” sneered Quinn. “Big deal.”
“I told my boy to be careful when he used the car last week,” MacIver chimed in. “Wait until he hears the trouble he got me in.”
“All right,” Fosse interrupted. “Now you know. The mechanics and lab technicians down in the garage have been examining your cars while we talked with you. I doubt they found anything, or I’d have heard about it by now. So the only thing left to say is that if one of you is guilty, you’d be doing yourself a favor by telling us now. We might be able to do something about lessening the charge. Maybe the guilty one would get off with only a stiff fine. But if we have to dig up the evidence we’ll see the guilty party gets the book thrown at him.”
The four men looked warily at one another. Mr. Strang could feel the sweat coursing down his back.
A uniformed officer escorted the four men to the door of the precinct house. As they left the building and stepped into the rain, Kitrich turned to MacIver. “He had no reason to bring us down here,” said Kitrich, his small beard quivering in outrage.
“Look, I agree a dented fender doesn’t make one of us guilty,” said MacIver. “But they’ve got to start somewhere.”
“But we have our rights. As citizens.”
“Hey, man,” giggled Quinn as they headed for the police garage. “Do you suppose them fuzz will ever find out who really did it?”
“I assume the police have their own ways of answering that,” replied the teacher coldly.
The following Wednesday Mr. Strang found out what that answer was.
All the students and teachers in Aldershot High School were buzzing with rumors about Mr. Berlinger’s accident and the fact that Mr. Strang was under suspicion of hit-and-run. At the end of the day, after having been asked for the sixth time by his principal, Marvin W. Guthrey, whether he had anything he’d like to get off his chest, Mr. Strang left the building.
Fosse was standing by the teacher’s car, waiting for him.
“Good afternoon,” said Mr. Strang with a polite nod. “Something I can do for you?”
“Mr. Strang, I’m placing you under arrest on the charge of leaving the scene of an accident. You have the right to remain silent, but if you do choose to—”
As Fosse proceeded with the litany of an arrested man’s rights Mr. Strang could do nothing but shake his head in disbelief. His stomach churned, and for a moment he thought he might be sick. There was an unreal element about it, as if he were standing apart watching the arrest of a complete stranger. It was an awful dream, and in a moment he’d wake up. Fosse’s final words did awaken him.
“Look, I don’t want to have to use the handcuffs. It would have a bad effect on the kids. So just get in the car quietly, huh?”
On limp legs Mr. Strang allowed himself to be led to Fosse’s car.
Fifteen minutes later Mr. Strang was in the same Interrogation Room he had occupied the previous Saturday. He was seated at the table while Fosse and Paul Roberts spoke heatedly in one corner.
“Dammit!” snapped Roberts, “I told you to take it easy on him. He’s an old man. Did you have to come on so strong?”
“I tell you, I didn’t—”
“It’s all right, Paul,” said Mr. Strang weakly. “If I could just have a glass of water.”
Fosse went for the water as Roberts sat down beside the teacher. “Just take it easy, Leonard,” said the detective kindly. “Do you want to tell me about it?”
“Paul, I swear there’s nothing to tell. Believe me, I don’t even know why I’m here.”
“Fosse got to speak to Berlinger in the hospital this morning. Oh, hell, I know you’re innocent, but—”
He was interrupted by Fosse returning to the room. In one hand was a glass of water. The other held a small portable tape recorder.
“I guess Roberts told you where I was this morning,” said Fosse. “Berlinger’s jaw is all wired up, so it’s hard for him to talk, but I’m sure you’ll be interested in what he had to say.”
“I’ve known Mr. Strang a long time,” snapped Roberts, “and I won’t have him badgered, Fosse. Just play the tape.”
Fosse pressed a button and the recorder reels began to turn.
“—only a very short visit,” came a deep voice from the machine.
And then Fosse’s voice: “Fine, Doctor. That’s all I’ll need.”