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By Root 363 0

But we'll move fast. One day - that'll do it. If we grab enough, maybe we ought to try Florida. Spend Christmas in Miami - stay the winter if it looks good." But Perry chewed his gum and shivered and sulked. Dick said, "What is it, honey? That other deal? Why the hell can't you forget it? They never made any connection. They never will." Perry said, "You could be wrong. And if you are, it means The Corner." Neither one had ever before referred to the ultimate penalty in the State of Kansas - the gallows, or death in The Corner, as the inmates of Kansas State Penitentiary have named the fad that houses the equipment required to hang a man. Dick said, "The comedian. You kill me." He struck a match, intending to smoke a cigarette, but something seen by the light of the flaring match brought him to his feet and carried him across the barn to a cow stall. A car was parked inside the stall, a black-and-white two-door 1956 Chevrolet. The key was in the ignition.

Dewey was determined to conceal from "the civilian population" any knowledge of a major break in the Clutter case - so determined that he decided to take into his confidence Garden City's two professional town criers: Bill Brown, editor of the Garden City Telegram, and Rob Wells, manager of the local radio station. KlUL. In outlining the situation, Dewey emphasized his reasons for considering secrecy of the first importance: "Remember, there's a possibility these men are innocent." It was a possibility too valid to dismiss. The informer, Floyd Wells, might easily have invented his story; such tale-telling was not infrequently undertaken by prisoners who hoped to win favor or attract official notice. But even if the man's every word was gospel, Dewey and his colleagues had not yet unearthed one bit of solid supporting evidence - "courtroom evidence." What had they discovered that could not be interpreted as plausible, though exceptional, coincidence? Just because Smith had traveled to Kansas to visit his friend Hickock, and just because Hickock possessed a gun of the caliber used to commit the crime, and just because the suspects had arranged a false alibi to account for their whereabouts the night of November 14, they were not necessarily mass murderers. "But we're pretty sure this is it. We all think so. If we didn't, we wouldn't have set up a seventeen-state alarm, from Arkansas to Oregon. But keep in mind: It could be years before we catch them. They may have separated. Or left the country. There's a chance they've gone to Alaska - not hard to get lost in Alaska. The longer they're free, the less of a case we'll have. Frankly, as matters stand, we don't have much of a case anyhow. We could nab those sonsabitches tomorrow, and never be able to prove spit." Dewey did not exaggerate. Except for two sets of boot prints, one bearing a diamond pattern and the other a Cat's Paw design, the slayers had left not a single clue. Since they seemed to take such care, they had undoubtedly got rid of the boots long ago. And the radio, too - assuming that it was they who had stolen it, which was something Dewey still hesitated to do, for it appeared to him "ludicrously inconsistent" with the magnitude of the crime and the manifest cunning of the criminals, and "inconceivable" that these men had entered a house expecting to find a money-filled safe, and then, not finding it, had thought it expedient to slaughter the family for perhaps a few dollars and a small portable radio. "Without a confession, we'll never get a conviction," he said. "That's my opinion. And that's why we can't be too cautious. They think they've got away with it. Well, we don't want them to know any different. The safer they feel, the sooner we'll grab them." But secrets are an unusual commodity in a town the size of Garden City. Anyone visiting the sheriff's office, three under-furnished, overcrowded rooms on the third floor of the county courthouse, could detect an odd, almost sinister atmosphere. The hurry-scurry, the angry hum of recent weeks had departed; a quivering stillness now permeated the premises. Mrs.