Red Dragon - Thomas Harris [99]
“He could have done it all in the back of the van, parked way out somewhere,” Graham said.
Crawford massaged the sides of his nose with his fingers, giving his voice a megaphone effect. “You’re forgetting about the wheels on the chair. Bev got two kinds of carpet fuzz, wool and synthetic. Synthetic’s from a van, maybe, but when have you ever seen a wool rug in a van? How many wool rugs have you seen in someplace you can rent? Damn few. Wool rug is a house, Will. And the dirt and mold were from a dark place where the chair was stored, a dirtfloored cellar.”
“Maybe.”
“Now, look at this.” Crawford pulled a Rand McNally road atlas out of his briefcase. He had drawn a circle on the “United States mileage and driving time” map. “Freddy was gone a litfie over fifteen hours, and his injuries are spaced over that time. I’m going to make a couple of assumptions. I don’t like to do that, but here goes . . . What are you laughing at?”
“I just remembered when you ran those field exercises at Quantico when that trainee told you he assumed something.”
“I don’t remember that. Here’s-“
“You made him write ‘assume’ on the blackboard. You took the chalk and started underlining and yelling in his face. ‘When you assume, you make an ASS out of U and ME both,’ that’s what you told him, as I recall.”
“He needed a boot in the ass to shape up. Now, look at this. Figure he had Chicago traffic on Tuesday afternoon, going out of town with Lounds. Allow a couple of hours to fool with Lounds at the location where he took him, and then the time driving back. He couldn’t have gone much farther than six hours’ driving time out of Chicago. Okay, this circle around Chicago is six hours’ driving time. See, it’s wavy because some roads are faster than others.”
“Maybe he just stayed here.”
“Sure, but this is the farthest away he could be.”
“So you’ve narrowed it down to Chicago, or inside a circle covering Milwaukee, Madison, Dubuque, Peoria, St. Louis, Indianapolis, Cincinnati, Toledo, and Detroit, to name a few.”
“Better than that. We know he got a Tattler very fast Monday night, probably.”
“He could have done that in Chicago.”
“I know it, but once you get out of town the Tattlers aren’t available on Monday night in a lot of locations. Here’s a list from the Tattler circulation department – places Tattlers are airfreighted or trucked inside the circle on Monday night. See, that leaves Milwaukee, St. Louis, Cincinnati, Indianapolis, and Detroit. They go to the airports and maybe ninety newsstands that stay open all night, not counting the ones in Chicago. I’m using the field offices to check them. Some newsie might remember an odd customer on Monday night.”
“Maybe. That’s a good move, Jack.”
Clearly Graham’s mind was elsewhere.
If Graham were a regular agent, Crawford would have threatened him with a lifetime appointment to the Aleutians. Instead he said, “My brother called this afternoon. Molly left his house, he said.”
“Yeah.”
“Someplace safe, I guess?”
Graham was confident Crawford knew exactly where she went.
“Willy’s grandparents.”
“Well, they’ll be glad to see the kid.” Crawford waited.
No comment from Graham.
“Everything’s okay, I hope.”
“I’m working, Jack. Don’t worry about it. No, look, it’s just that she got jumpy over there.”
Graham pulled a flat package tied with string from beneath a stack of funeral pictures and began to pick at the knot.
“What’s that?”
“It’s from Byron Metcalf, the Jacobis’ lawyer. Brian Zeller sent it on. It’s okay.”
“Wait a minute, let me see.” Crawford turned the package in his hairy fingers until he found the stamp and signature of S. F. “Semper Fidelis” Aynesworth, head of the FBI’s explosives section, certifying that the package had been fluoroscoped.
“Always check. Always check.”
“I always check, Jack.”
“Did Chester bring you this?”
“Yes.”
“Did he show you the stamp before he handed it to you?”
“He checked it and showed