"Great," Malone said. He felt a little tired. This trip was beginning to sound less and less like a vacation.
"Those two cops swear there was something—or somebody—driving the car," Burris said. "And that isn't all."
"It isn't?" Malone said.
Burris shook his head. "A couple of the cops jumped into a squad car and started following the red Cadillac. One of these cops saw somebody in the car when it left the curb. The other one didn't. Got that?"
"I've got it," Malone said, "but I don't exactly know what to do with it."
"Just hold on to it," Burris said, "and listen to this: the cops were about two blocks behind at the start, and they couldn't close the gap right away. The Cadillac headed west and climbed up the ramp of the West Side Highway, heading north, out toward Westchester. I'd give a lot to know where they were going, too."
"But they crashed," Malone said, remembering that the pieces were at 125th Street. "So—"
"They didn't crash right away," Burris said. "The prowl car started gaining on the Cadillac slowly. And—now, get this, Malone—both the cops swear there was somebody in the driver's seat now."
"Wait a minute," Malone said. "One of these cops didn't see any