"Only if the switch on the right side of the printer is turned ON and if the paper is straight. Otherwise, I just wouldn't bother." Scott stared at the ceiling while the dot matrix print- er sang a high pitched song as the head traveled back and forth.
Tyrone scanned the print out coming from the computers in Cali- fornia. "You have one fuckuva memory. Sheee-it." Scott sat up quickly.
"What, what does it say?" Scott pressured.
"It appears that your friend Max Jones was killed in an automo- bile accident on Highway 275 at 12:30 AM." Ty stopped for a moment to read more. "He was found, dead, at the bottom of a ravine where his car landed after crashing through the barriers. Pretty high speed. And, the brake lines were cut."
"Holy shit," Scott said rising from his chair. "Does two a pat- tern make?"
"You mean Troubleaux and Max?" asked Tyrone.
"Yeah, they'll do."
"In my mind it would warrant further investigation." He made a mental note.
"Anything else there?" Scott asked.
"This is the kicker," Ty added. "The investigation lasted two days. Upstairs told the department to make it a quick and clean, open and shut case of accident."