BLACKSPUR
The man running hides to the tanner,
he
knows the very last clue : that
cigarette
dangling from his charred face, the
hat
on his head, askew. We mention
the
intangible motives of passion and
crime
only when we must. Lawmen have no
conscience. Yet, here is Detective
Doyle
again, asking me ten more questions
about
the scene of the crime. 'Why, yes, I
was there;
delivering pizza to the nudists next
door.'
I laughed as he wrote that
down.
Outside the loft-building's
doorway, the police
car's
lights blinked like
some
unending celebration
was now at hand.
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