"Sure you would," Burris said. "Anybody would. But listen to me."
"All right, chief," Malone said.
"It was just after dawn—early in the morning." Malone wondered briefly if there were parts of the world where dawn came, say, late in the afternoon or during the evening some time, but he said nothing. "The street was deserted," Burris went on. "But it was pretty light out, and the witnesses are willing to swear that there was nobody on that street for a block in either direction. Except them, of course."
"Except who?" Malone said.
"Except the witnesses," Burris said patiently. "Four cops, police officers who were standing on the front steps of the precinct station, talking. They were waiting to go on duty, or anyhow that's what the report said. It's lucky they were there, for what
ever reason; they're the only witnesses we've got."
Burris stopped. Malone waited a few seconds and then said, as calmly as he could: "Witnesses to what?"
"To this whole business with Sergeant Jukovsky," Burris said.
The sudden introduction of a completely new name confused Malone for an instant, but he recovered gamely. "Sergeant Jukovsky was the man who investigated the car," he said.