“Maybe. Let’s have a closer look.”
While Penny stood by, Salt made a thorough inspection of the old car. The battery was dead. Ignition keys, still in the lock, had been left turned on.
As the photographer flashed his light about, Penny noticed a package of cigarettes lying on the seat. She picked them up and sniffed.
“Necos,” she declared. “Salt, one of the persons who rode in this car must have slugged Jerry at the theater!”
“Maybe, but we can’t be sure. Necos aren’t a common brand of cigarettes. On the other hand, I’ve known several fellows who smoke them.”
A thorough inspection of the car revealed no other clues.
“We may as well get back to town,” Salt said finally. “Mrs. Jones will be glad to learn her car has been recovered. We can let her know tomorrow after police have had a chance to inspect it.”
Neither he nor Penny had much to say as they motored toward Riverview. Both were deeply discouraged by their failure to find any trace of Jerry.
“It’s barely possible hospital officials were able to catch up with him,” Penny said after a while, her eyes on the dark ribbon of highway ahead. “We might stop somewhere and telephone.”
“Good idea,” agreed Salt. “We’re practically in the city now.”