Drop Shot

Chapter 16

"Myron Bolitar?"

The car phone. He'd just dropped Duane off at his apartment.

"Yes."

"This is Gerard Courter with the NYPD. Jake's son."

"Oh, right. How's it going, Gerard?"

"Can't complain. I doubt you remember but we played against each other once."

" Michigan State," Myron said. "I remember. And I have the bruises to prove it."

Gerard laughed. Sounded just like his old man. "Glad I was memorable."

"That's a polite word for what you were."

Another Jake-like guffaw. "My dad said you needed info on the Simpson homicide."

"I'd appreciate it."

"You probably heard there's a major suspect. Guy named Roger Quincy."

"The stalker."

"Yeah."

"Is there anything specific tying him to the murder?" Myron asked. "Besides the stalking?"

"He's on the run, for one thing. When they got to Quincy 's apartment he was packed and gone. No one knows where he is."

"He might have just been scared," Myron said.

"Good reason to be."

"Why do you say that?"

"Roger Quincy was at the tennis center on the day of the murder."

"You have witnesses?"

"Several."

That slowed Myron down. "What else?"

"She was shot with a thirty-eight. Very close range. We found the weapon in a garbage can ten yards away from the shooting. Smith amp; Wesson. It was in a Feron's bag. The bag had a bullet hole in it."

Feron's. Another tournament sponsor. They were licensed to sell "official tournament merchandise." Feron's had at least half a dozen stands selling to a zillion people. No way to trace it back. "So the killer walked up to her," Myron said, "shot her through the bag, kept walking, dumped the gun in the garbage, and headed out."

"That's how we see it," Gerard said.

"A cool customer."

"Very."

"Any prints on the gun?" Myron asked.

"Nope."

"Any witnesses to the shooting?"

"Several hundred. Unfortunately all anyone remembers is the sound of the gun, and Valerie toppling over."

Myron shook his head. "The killer took a hell of a chance. Shooting her in public like that."

"Yeah. A major case of brass balls."

"You got anything else?"

"Just a question," Gerard said.

"Shoot"

"Where are our seats for next Saturday?"