“And the gun you gave him does,” Taylor said. “That’s the mind-fuck. We’re talking informally here, so I’m going to assume you gave him the gun from the safe. In fact, I know you gave him the gun from the safe, because Manning matched a bullet from it with the test bullet, RT-SUB. And that gun’s been in your safe since before the murder. You know and I know that gun wasn’t used for the murder. Unless someone got into your office and rifled the safe.”
“It’s been done before,” Tracy pointed out.
“Yeah, but not this time,” Steve said. “I mean, come on, give me a break. The murderer deduces that I have a gun in the safe. He breaks in and steals it, uses it to commit the murder. Now, never mind all the other duplicate guns he plants all over the place. The point is, after the murder, he breaks in again and replaces it in my safe.”
“Farfetched, but not impossible,” Taylor said.
“Oh, yeah? How does he know the gun’s there to begin with?*’
“Timberlaine could know, if he figured out you switched guns. Suppose he noticed the difference?”
“So he breaks in and steals it?”
“It’s possible.”
“Yeah, but how does he get it back in the safe after the murder? He’s been in jail ever since.”
“True,” Taylor said. “Well, he could have an accomplice.”
“Who, his daughter? Like father, like daughter, and the Timberlaines actually come from a long line of murdering safecrackers?”
Taylor frowned. “That does seem a bit much.”
“No shit.”
“So what’s the answer?” Taylor said. “What the hell did happen?”
Steve exhaled. “We’re getting dangerously close to Sherlock Holmes territory here.”
“What do you mean?”
“At least, I think it’s Holmes. You know the bit about once you’ve eliminated the impossible, what’s left, however improbable, has to be true? Or something to that effect.”
Taylor frowned. “What the hell does that mean?”
“It means there has to be an explanation for People’s Exhibit Six being the murder gun. Or, more precisely, there has to be an explanation for the fact the fatal bullet came from that gun.”
“Would it surprise you to hear I can’t come up with one?”
“No, it wouldn’t, Mark. What about your expert?”
“Who?”
“The gun collector. The woman. Is she here yet?”
“Yeah. As a matter of fact, she’s in my office. I was wondering if you’d want to see her.”
“I sure do.”
43
Veronica Dreisson was a bit of a surprise. A frail, emaciated, white-haired woman, she looked more like someone’s kindly but fragile great-grandmother than someone who dealt in guns, and try as he would, Steve Winslow could not imagine her holding one. When Mark Taylor had completed the introductions, Steve smiled and said, “So, you’re the gun expert?”
Veronica Dreisson’s eyes twinkled and her smile was mischievous. “You sound as if you didn’t believe me.”
“Oh, I believe you all right. I just want to make sure.”
“I’m not surprised. People often have trouble relating to an old lady gun expert.”
“Guilty as charged,” Steve said, “If I’m going to be hung for a sexist pig, it might as well be for just cause.”
“That would be hardly just,” Veronica said. “Women have trouble relating to me too.”
“I have trouble relating to anything right now,” Steve said. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to skimp on the amenities, but at the moment I have more problems than you could believe.”
“So I understand. I only hope I haven’t done anything to add to them.”
“So do I. I assume Mark Taylor has given you a rundown of the present situation?”
“Oh, yes. He’s really been most helpful.” Veronica favored Mark Taylor with a smile, which he returned somewhat sheepishly.
“That’s good,” Steve said. “I was wondering if we could come to some sort of understanding.”
“I don’t see what there is to understand,” Veronica said. “I gather you are trying a murder case.” She shrugged and smiled. “But that’s your business. As far as I’m concerned, any guns Mr. Taylor may have purchased are entirely coincidental and not to be inferred.”
Steve grinned. “Miss-I’m sorry. Tell me. Is it Mrs., Miss, or Ms.?”
“It’s Veronica.”
“Veronica, I think you and I are going to get along. At the moment I happen to have a little problem involving guns, and I’m hoping you can help me out.”
“In what way?”
“I’m confronted with a physical impossibility. The prosecution just matched up a gun with the fatal bullet. And there’s no way that gun fired that bullet.”
Veronica opened her mouth to speak.
Steve held up his hand. “I know, I know. Ballistics says it did. So let me rephrase that. There’s no way that gun was used to commit the crime. At the time of the murder, that gun was not available. It could not have been used.”
Veronica frowned. “What are you saying?”
“Exactly that. There’s no reason for you to know the circumstances-in fact it’s better if you don’t know-but take it as a given that that gun did not commit the crime. That we know for sure. So we have a series of seemingly contradictory statements here. We need to resolve them. This is where I need your expertise.”
“In what way?”
“Listen carefully. Here are certain things we know to be true. One, the gun fired the fatal bullet. We know that from the markings on it. We can identify it absolutely as coming from the gun. Two, the fatal bullet is the cause of death. We know that from the autopsy. It was removed from the head of the decedent and identified by the medical examiner as the sole cause of death. And three, the gun, People’s Exhibit Six, could not have fired that bullet into the head of the decedent, because it was not available at the time of the murder.”
Veronica nodded. “An out-and-out contradiction.”
“Exactly.”
“So some of your data must be wrong.”
“If so I would love to have it pointed out to me.”
“The ballistics expert could be in error. The medical examiner could be in error. Or there could have been a substitution of bullet or gun at some point down the line.”
Steve Winslow nodded. “True, and I’ve taken those things into consideration. Frankly, I don’t see how any of them could have happened.”
“So?”
“So, I’m eliminating the impossible and dealing with the improbable.”
Veronica frowned. “You’ll pardon me if that’s not entirely clear.”
“Yeah, I know. I’m saying, assume those things didn’t happen. Assume the following are true: the bullet came from the gun, the bullet killed the victim, the gun was not there at the time of the murder.” Steve shrugged. “That leaves us with an insoluble problem.”
“It certainly does,” Veronica said. “So what do you expect me to do about it?”
“Solve it.”
44
The phone began ringing while Steve Winslow was still unlocking his apartment door. He cursed his deadbolt, a necessity in a New York City apartment, even in that relatively respectable section of Greenwich Village. Steve threw open the door, fumbled for the light switch on the wall, missed it, spotted the phone across the room in the faint street light coming through the window, and, spurred on by another insistent ring, decided to go for it. Predictably, he barked his shin on the coffee table, cursed loudly, lunged across the room, grabbed the phone and picked it up.
“Finally,” Taylor said. “I’ve been callin’ you for hours.”
“I took Tracy out to dinner. What’s up?”
“We blew it.”
“What?”
“The whole assignment. We fucked it up somehow.”
“How is that possible? Carrie Timberlaine set it up.”
“Yeah, that part was fine. I took Veronica out there, Carrie let us in. She didn’t have the keys to the gun cases, but that guy Martin did, and he let us in and Veronica did her stuff.”