Purvis didn’t look particularly worried.
‘I’ve been working fifteen years on this case,’ he said. ‘I’m in sight of pul ing it off. I’m not going to bring Olin in to mess it up now.’
Dallas shrugged. He felt too tired to argue. He stared down at his feet, brooding.
Rain continued to patter against the window. A car came grinding up the hill towards Purvis’s house.
Both Purvis and Dallas listened to the sound of the labouring engine. They looked at each other questioningly. The car came nearer, then passed the house and went on up the hill. Both men relaxed again. Then the telephone bell started to ring. Dallas jumped a little and spilt some of his coffee.
Purvis picked up the receiver. He said, Yes, speaking.’ He sat still, his face expressionless, his long, bony fingers tapping a tune on the arm of his chair. After a while he said, ‘Okay, and thanks. I’ll be down in the morning. Brentwood hospital? Yeah, I know how to get there. It’s before you get to Lincoln Falls. Yeah, sure.’ He hung up.
‘Who’s dead now?’ Dallas asked, his hands turning into fists.
‘MacAdam’s been found with a fractured skull,’ Purvis said slowly. He didn’t look at Dal as. ‘He was picked up in Brentwood’s main street.’
Dallas stubbed out his cigarette.
‘How is he?’