###
Officer
Ritchie was directing traffic around a large wrecker parked at the
end of the alley.
“My
car? Aw, it’s … not important. Sometimes it’s faster just to
go on foot, you know what I mean?”
“Ritchie!”
“Wha—
who’s that? Oh, Mister MacPherson … what brings you to …
where’s your car, Mister MacPherson?”
“My
car? Aw, it’s … not important. Sometimes it’s faster just to
go on foot, you know what I mean?”
“Sure.
I guess I do.” Ritchie waved a car around.
“Here
it comes!” hollered the worker at the controls of the wrecker.
“It’s
because the alley is so narrow,” the officer explained to
MacPherson.
The
end of the smashed-up limousine, still turned on its side, appeared
at the mouth of the alley.
“The
wrecker wouldn’t fit in there, so we had to drag it out. Lucky the
winch had enough cable to reach it.”
MacPherson
winced a little at the sight of the car scraping across the pavement,
as it was pulled toward the back of the wrecker. “That’s
going to do a number on the paint, isn’t it?”
“That
poor machine’s going to need a lot more than just paint to get it
back on the road, I’m afraid. But I’m more worried about our
mayor.”
“The
mayor? Gosh, was she in this wreck?”
“Mister
MacPherson—you
haven’t heard?”
“I
guess I’m in the dark. What’s happened? Was she injured?”
“Taken,
sir. She was taken.”
“Barbara
was taken? By who?”
###
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