Page 63 - Labelle Gramercy, Detective

Road Kill

I looked around the yard furtively. No one fluent in English was
within fifty yards. “Why? What do you mean? Whose car is this?”
“It was assigned to Lon Durer. He turned it in this morning,
because he is leaving the day after tomorrow. If there were any
bloodstains or hair or textile fragments on the bumper, they are gone
now. Some of these dents on the bumper look fresh, but every
vehicle operating in this country for any length of time shows similar
damage. No, it would have been nice to get some better physical
evidence, but the tires will have to do. We are looking at the murder
weapon, Mr. Tate.”

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The next day was Saturday, and Lon Durer was scheduled to leave
on Sunday. I had confronted him Friday afternoon with the tell-tale
tire tread, but to no avail. The interview had taken place in my office,
with Labelle listening in at a desk in an empty room next door
through an intercom I had carelessly left on. She could not see his
face, of course, but I had no doubt her sleuthing abilities included
intuitive voice-stress analysis.
It was true, he said, that the vehicle in question had been parked
in front of his compound during the party. He had left it outside the
gates because he expected to drive some of guests home, and the old
gardien was there to watch over it. His indignation seemed genuine
when I gently inquired whether anyone at the party could vouch for
his being there throughout the evening without a break. He was
drunk, he righteously proclaimed, but not so much that he didn’t
know where he was at all times. He gave me the names of several
guests who had made early arrivals and late departures. They were his
alibi, he declared, and left in a huff.
Well, the cat was out of the bag; unless Durer kept his mouth shut
for the remainder of his time in Falidougou, the whole expatriate
community would soon know that Sally Furth’s death had not
occurred in a random traffic accident. With Labelle’s urging I
contacted two of the people he named as able to vouch for his being
home throughout the evening. Both were USAID employees of
impeccable credentials, including years of training in holding one’s
liquor. And both swore that Lon Durer had played the genial host all

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