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Go on, Mason said, his face expressionless. Tell me what Keddie told the cops. Koontz had been born on an Arkansas farm nearly fifty years ago and there was still something bucolic about the way he looked even after nearly thirty-five years in St. Louis. He had a big head topped with a shock of greying hair that hung down into his robins-egg blue eyes that were as innocent as evening prayer until he narrowed them so that they looked crafty and sly and maybe even mean. He had a large Roman nose, a wide, thin, sour mouth, and a heavy, jutting chin that made him look stubborn, which he was. He was also a big man, well over six feet tall, with thick, heavy, hairy wrists that stuck out from the sleeves of his expensive-looking grey leisure suit. My Uncle Slick. Well, he told me that hed had detectives trace down all of the close friends of the defendant to see if they could find the person who had been in the cab with her, and he pointed out this witness who has just been on the stand and told me she was the one, and then I recognized her. In the glove compartment of the defendants car. My wife was at the supermarket yesterday, Jenkins said, and she saw Marty Cases wife getting into a new Mercedes. Case was deputy chief of detectives. Mason glanced at Della Street, then looked down at the address on the memo pad. It came in at nine twenty-two a.m. It said that a custodian found Saras body at around eight thirty that morning and the police were called. So less than an hour later someone knew she was dead and had details about how she died and where the crime scene was and what she looked like hanging there. And then they sent out a message only to me, as far as I know, that you guys cant trace. Thats pretty damn fast. Serious, I think. Ive begged her to stop watching TV and reading the news on her computer but shes fixated. And none of its any good. The names they call her and the things they say about her.’ Got him. She got in the cab with me and was all breathless. She seemed very much excited and disturbed. I asked her where she wanted to go. She couldnt tell me at first. Then she told me to take her to the Union Station. He said that? exclaimed Ekman. OnSaturday? They went down and got into the big SUV. Well, anyway, I know most of the yachtsmen. I sell them stuff bait, and lobsters, and sometimes an interesting bit of driftage, and abalone-shell soap dishes, and things of that sort. I guess I know as many yachtsmen as anyone on the coast, and they know me and like me. Were sort of talking here, Ted, I said. He was facing the person who shot him? What on earth are you two doing? Viv asked. Thats fine, Mason told him. Lets go. Come on, Della. He always writhes. Its like hes a little kid in a theater with a horror movie on the screen. He does everything except slap his hands over his face...