"Midtown," Burris said. "In the forties."
"And the pieces of the car were eighty blocks away when they searched it?" Malone said.
Burris nodded.
"All right," Malone said pleasantly. "I give up."
"Well, that's what I'm trying to tell you," Burris said. "According to the witnesses, after Jukovsky fell out of the car, the motor started and the car drove off uptown."
"Oh," Malone said. He thought about that for a minute and decided at last to hazard one little question. It sounded silly—but then, what didn't? "The car just drove off all by itself?" he said.
Burris seemed abashed. "Well, Malone," he said carefully, "that's where the conflicting stories of the eyewitnesses don't agree. You see, two of the cops say there was nobody in the car. Nobody at all. Of any kind. Small or large."
"And the other two?" Malone said.
"The other two swear they saw somebody at the wheel," Burris said, "but they won't say whether it was a man, a woman, a small child, or an anthropoid ape. And they haven't the faintest idea where he, she, or it came from."
"Great," Malone said. He felt a little tired. This trip was beginning to sound less and less like a vacation.