From a Buick 8(19)

Mister Dillon opened his mouth and let loose a long, low whine, as if something in him hurt. Sandy supposed something did. Orville took him inside. Five minutes later Sandy himself was rolling again, along with Steve Devoe, to the scene of a two-car collision out on Highway 6.

Bibi Roth made his report to Tony and Ennis as the members of his crew (there were three of them today) sat at a picnic table in the shade of Shed B, eating sandwiches and drinking the iced tea Matt Babicki had run out to them.

'I appreciate you taking the time to do this,' Tony said.

'Your appreciation is appreciated,' Bibi said, 'and I hope it ends there. I don't want to submit any paperwork on this one, Tony. No one would ever trust me again.' He looked at his crew and clapped his hands like Miss Frances on Ding-Dong School. 'Do we want paperwork on this job, children?' One of the children who helped that day was appointed Pennsylvania's Chief Medical Examiner in 1993.

They looked at him, two young men and a young woman of extraordinary beauty. Their sandwiches were raised, their brows creased. None of them was sure what response was required.

'No, Bibi!' he prompted them.

'No, Bibi,' they chorused dutifully.

'No what?' Bibi asked.

'No paperwork,' said young man number one.

'No file copies,' said young man number two.

'No duplicate or triplicate,' said the young woman of extraordinary beauty. 'Not even any singlicate.'

'Good!' he said. 'And with whom are we going to discuss this, kinder?'

This time they needed no prompting. 'No one, Bibi!'

'Exactly,' Bibi agreed. 'I'm proud of you.'

'Got to be a joke, anyway,' said one of the young men. 'Someone's trickin on you, Sarge.'

'I'm keeping that possibility in mind,' Tony said, wondering what any of them would have thought if they had seen Mister Dillon howling and hunching forward like a crippled thing. Mister D hadn't been trickin on anybody.

The children went back to munching and slurping and talking among themselves. Bibi, meanwhile, was looking at Tony and Ennis Rafferty with a slanted little smile.

'They see what they look at with youth's wonderful twenty-twenty vision and don't see it at the same time,' he said. 'Young people are such wonderful idiots. What is that thing, Tony? Do you have any idea? From witnesses, perhaps?'

'No.'

Bibi turned his attention to Ennis, who perhaps thought briefly about telling the man what he knew of the Buick's story and then decided not to. Bibi was a good man . . . but he didn't wear the gray.

'It's not an automobile, that's for sure,' Bibi said. 'But a joke? No, I don't think it's that, either.'

'Is there blood?' Tony asked, not knowing if he wanted there to be or not.

'Only more microscopic examination of the samples we took can determine that for sure, but I think not. Certainly no more than trace amounts, if there is.'

'What did you see?'

'In a word, nothing. We took no samples from the tire treads because there's no dirt or mud or pebbles or glass or grass or anything else in them. I would have said that was impossible. Henry there ? ' He pointed to young man number one. ' ? kept trying to wedge a pebble between two of them and it kept falling out. Now what is that? And could you patent such a thing? If you could, Tony, you could take early retirement.'

Tony was rubbing his cheek with the tips of his fingers, the gesture of a perplexed man.

'Listen to this,' Bibi said. 'We're talking floormats here. Great little dirtcatchers, as a rule. Every one a geological survey. Usually. Not here, though. A few smudges of dirt, a dandelion stalk. That's all.' He looked at Ennis. 'From your partner's shoes, I expect. You say he got behind the wheel?'

'Yes.'

'Driver's-side footwell. And that's where these few artifacts were found.' Bibi patted his palms together, as if to say QED.

'Are there prints?' Tony asked.

'Three sets. I'll want comparison prints from your two officers and the pump-jockey. The prints we lifted from the gas-hatch will almost certainly belong to the pump-jockey. You agree?'

'Most likely,' Tony said. 'You'd run the prints on your own time?'

'Absolutely, my pleasure. The fiber samples, as well. Don't annoy me by asking for anything involving the gas chromatograph in Pittsburgh, there's a good fellow. I will pursue this as far as the equipment in my basement permits. That will be quite far.'

'You're a good guy, Bibi.'

'Yes, and even the best guy will take a free dinner from time to time, if a friend offers.'

'He'll offer. Meantime, is there anything else?'

'The glass is glass. The wood is wood . . . but a wooden dashboard in a car of this vintage ? this purported vintage ? is completely wrong. My older brother had a Buick from the late fifties, a Limited. I learned to drive on it and I remember it well. With fear and affection. The dashboard was padded vinyl. I would say the seatcovers in this one are vinyl, which would be right for this make and model; I will be checking with General Motors to make sure. The odometer . . . very amusing. Did you notice the odometer?'

Ennis shook his head. He looked hypnotized.

'All zeros. Which is fitting, I suppose. That car ? that purported car ? would never drive.' His eyes moved from Ennis to Tony and then back to Ennis again. 'Tell me you haven't seen it drive. That you haven't seen it move a single inch under its own power.'