The Christmas Night Murder Read Online Free Page A
Author: Lee Harris
the hill, up the road, down the road. We were told his name and we’ve called it hundreds of times. Even used the car’s loudspeaker system. If he’s alive and out there, he heard us.”
“Thanks, Officer.”
“From the look of the snow,” Arnold said as we walked away, “they’ve covered every inch.”
“I agree,” Jack said. “I don’t think we’d gain anything from sliding over the snow ourselves. I want to look at the license plates in the parking lot.”
We walked back and started going down rows. “What are you looking for?” I asked.
“I don’t know. Something that doesn’t fit. When I see it, I’ll know. Any chance he was driving a spanking-new car that a car jacker would want to get his hands on?”
“Very little. It would have luggage in it, though.”
“They’ve all got luggage. Tons of it.”
He was right. In one car it was piled so high I couldn’t imagine how the driver could see out the rear window.
The license plates were mostly from New York. There were a few from Ohio, Ontario, Massachusetts, and Michigan, and one each from Illinois and Vermont. There wasn’t a single car from the west.
We looked at every car and I sensed that Jack hadn’t found anything remarkable. We walked toward the building and found the Golds talking to two state policemen. When Arnold saw us, he said, “They’re bringing bloodhounds in. Since they’ve got the suit, they’re going to try to follow the scent while it’s still fresh—if there’s anything left in the snow to go on.”
“Here they are,” the officer said.
A state-police van had just pulled into the lot. Two police officers got out of the front and came around to the back, where they let out two large, beautiful dark-haired dogs. Jack went over and talked to the handlers and then waved the Golds and me over. I watched with fascination as the articles of Hudson’s clothing were produced for the dogs to sniff. They were then taken to the taped-off area in the snow, where they sniffed the ground, then moved out from under the tape, looking for a lead.
They found it almost immediately and bounded toward the parking lot, their handlers running along to keep up with them. It didn’t take long for the chase to end. They ran down the aisle between the second and third rows of cars, now pausing, now barking as they picked up the scent again. Then both dogs stopped at a parked car, barked, pawed the ground, and sat down.
The car had a Pennsylvania license plate and was empty. As we stood there a family with two young children came toward us.
“Is anything wrong?” the woman said. She was short and a little plump. An unhappy child was hanging on to her hand, telling her he was hungry.
“No, ma’am,” the officer in charge said. “Can you tell me when you parked here?”
Her husband looked at his watch. “Fifteen minutes ago. We just stopped to take the kids to the bathroom. We’re late for Christmas dinner.”
The officer asked to see his driver’s license and registration, then wrote something in his notebook. “Merry Christmas,” he said. “Drive safely.”
The man unlocked the car and they piled in. Just as the motor turned over, the dog nearer the front of the car started yelping and pulling away. I watched as man and dog started toward the building with the restaurant. But before the dog reached the building, he turned right and headed back toward the snowy area where the clothing had been found.
The Pennsylvania car drove out of its slot and the handler of the second dog gave him a piece of Hudson’s clothing to sniff again. The dog sniffed the ground, turning around, until suddenly he seemed to pick up the scent the other dog had. Revitalized, he barked once and took off toward the building, following the identical path. I watched him turn at the same point and make for the snowy rise behind the parking lot.
Jack had followed the first dog. Now he came back to where I stood with the Golds between the first row
“Thanks, Officer.”
“From the look of the snow,” Arnold said as we walked away, “they’ve covered every inch.”
“I agree,” Jack said. “I don’t think we’d gain anything from sliding over the snow ourselves. I want to look at the license plates in the parking lot.”
We walked back and started going down rows. “What are you looking for?” I asked.
“I don’t know. Something that doesn’t fit. When I see it, I’ll know. Any chance he was driving a spanking-new car that a car jacker would want to get his hands on?”
“Very little. It would have luggage in it, though.”
“They’ve all got luggage. Tons of it.”
He was right. In one car it was piled so high I couldn’t imagine how the driver could see out the rear window.
The license plates were mostly from New York. There were a few from Ohio, Ontario, Massachusetts, and Michigan, and one each from Illinois and Vermont. There wasn’t a single car from the west.
We looked at every car and I sensed that Jack hadn’t found anything remarkable. We walked toward the building and found the Golds talking to two state policemen. When Arnold saw us, he said, “They’re bringing bloodhounds in. Since they’ve got the suit, they’re going to try to follow the scent while it’s still fresh—if there’s anything left in the snow to go on.”
“Here they are,” the officer said.
A state-police van had just pulled into the lot. Two police officers got out of the front and came around to the back, where they let out two large, beautiful dark-haired dogs. Jack went over and talked to the handlers and then waved the Golds and me over. I watched with fascination as the articles of Hudson’s clothing were produced for the dogs to sniff. They were then taken to the taped-off area in the snow, where they sniffed the ground, then moved out from under the tape, looking for a lead.
They found it almost immediately and bounded toward the parking lot, their handlers running along to keep up with them. It didn’t take long for the chase to end. They ran down the aisle between the second and third rows of cars, now pausing, now barking as they picked up the scent again. Then both dogs stopped at a parked car, barked, pawed the ground, and sat down.
The car had a Pennsylvania license plate and was empty. As we stood there a family with two young children came toward us.
“Is anything wrong?” the woman said. She was short and a little plump. An unhappy child was hanging on to her hand, telling her he was hungry.
“No, ma’am,” the officer in charge said. “Can you tell me when you parked here?”
Her husband looked at his watch. “Fifteen minutes ago. We just stopped to take the kids to the bathroom. We’re late for Christmas dinner.”
The officer asked to see his driver’s license and registration, then wrote something in his notebook. “Merry Christmas,” he said. “Drive safely.”
The man unlocked the car and they piled in. Just as the motor turned over, the dog nearer the front of the car started yelping and pulling away. I watched as man and dog started toward the building with the restaurant. But before the dog reached the building, he turned right and headed back toward the snowy area where the clothing had been found.
The Pennsylvania car drove out of its slot and the handler of the second dog gave him a piece of Hudson’s clothing to sniff again. The dog sniffed the ground, turning around, until suddenly he seemed to pick up the scent the other dog had. Revitalized, he barked once and took off toward the building, following the identical path. I watched him turn at the same point and make for the snowy rise behind the parking lot.
Jack had followed the first dog. Now he came back to where I stood with the Golds between the first row