I hoped that someone would call the cops on him, had thought about calling them myself, but I sat there and watched Dupont sit there and watch until almost morning, then he drove off and I followed.

He pulled into a fast food place and parked and went inside. I waited until he got his food; I watched him through the window as he got his food and sat at a table. He had a large soda, a breakfast sandwich and a packet of hash browns. I went in and sat across from him.

When he saw me, he started to get up, but I grabbed him by the wrist and told him it was all right. “Go ahead and eat,” I said and he sat back down.

“You know who I am?” I said.

“No.”

“I’m Jerry Caldwell.”

“No you’re not.”

“No, I’m not, but I work for him, the same as you.”

“I don’t think so.”

“My partner and I were hired by a guy who uses the name Jerry Caldwell to go pick up something for him, then, when we have it, you crash into us, with a car rented by a guy who uses the name Jerry Caldwell. What do you suppose that’s all about?”

“I never met the man,” Dupont said.

“You just drove the car.”

“That’s right.”

“You don’t know this man?” I showed him a picture of Froehmer.

“Total stranger.”

“You know what happened to my partner?”

He shook his head.

“He was murdered a few hours after you hit us. I’m just trying to figure out what happened to him.”

“I was in the hospital,” Dupont said.

“I know you were. I just want to know what you were doing and who for.”

He took a long drink on his soda and leaned back in his chair. “I know this guy. And he asks me if I want to do an easy job, that all I have to do is find you and your partner on a certain day and take something from you. He said it wouldn’t be a problem.”

“So you ran into us.”

“I’ve done it before.”

“Where? Grand Theft Auto?”

“I’ve seen it done,” Dupont said.

“Maybe in the movies,” I said. “It had to work better there.”

“I forgot the airbags,” he said. As if that were the only thing that had gone wrong.

“But you don’t know the guy in the picture?”