A Nose for Danger, part 11

I had a hunch the cops knew more than they were letting on, and just maybe I could get some answers. When I got to headquarters it was late, but I could see the light was on inside. I knocked on the big brass doors, and the Chief himself answered.

“Burning the midnight oil, Chief?”

He looked tired. “What can I do for you Smellephant?”

“Well, for one thing, I believe you’ve got a gun here that belongs to me.”

The Chief shrugged. “Follow me.” He led me back to the evidence desk.

It felt good to get my gun back. I don’t like to use it, but I like the feel of it in my trench coat pocket, just in case.

“You’ll need this too,” he said, handing me my license. “Everything checked out. Your gun didn’t kill Manny.”

“I could’ve told you that. Got any ideas whose gun did?”

“You know we don’t discuss that kind of thing.”

“Sure Chief, whatever you say. What about Winthrop’s gun?”

He gave me a long look before he answered. “You’re fingering J. Chesterton Winthrop for the murder of Manny the parrot? You might want to rethink that.”

“Oh,” I said casually, “You mean it could be dangerous? And just why would that be?”

“I’m telling you Smellephant, you really don’t want to bring Winthrop into this.”

“Really? Seems to me he and I are about even. I’ve got this gun in my pocket, and Winthrop’s got you in his.”

The Chief shook his head. “Look, I don’t know what you think you know, but you’re barking up the wrong tree.”

“Elephants don’t bark. How can you be so sure Winthrop’s not our guy?”

“Well, for starters, Winthrop’s dead.”

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