"What do they have to say about it?" Pauling demanded.
"Nothing, what do you expect? They'll make no statement at all."
The squad-room door opened, and a uniformed patrolman stuck his head in. "The owner of that Chevvy's here," he said.
"Right," said Stevenson. He followed the patrolman down the hall to the front desk.
The owner of the Chevvy was an angry-looking man of middle age, tall and paunchy. "John Hastings," he said. "They say you have my car here."
"I believe so, yes," said Stevenson. "I'm afraid it's in pretty bad shape."
"So I was told over the phone," said Hastings grimly. "I've contacted my insurance company."
"Good. The car's in the police garage, around the corner. If you'd come with me?"
On the way around, Stevenson said, "I believe you reported the car stolen almost immediately after it happened."