The only item of information I'd withheld from Detective Jackson was that the assailant had asked me where everybody else was.
Detective Jackson's voice surprised me.
"Here," I said, fumbling for my cell phone and keying the speed dial number for Detective Jackson back in Keene.
When I arrived at Detective Dick's door, he was on his way out.
Detective Dick wasted no time with pleasantries.
Instead, he asked Fred about his detective work.
I had related to the detective what I'd learned from Willard Humphries, Grasso's cell mate, that he had a hide out somewhere away from Santa Barbara.
Detective Dick took my phone back and grabbed my arm, leading me to the waiting car.
Good work, detective O'Connor!
Detective Dick surmised Grasso had telephoned Howie from the hideout and then driven to the rendezvous.
This detective stuff comes roaring back after an absence—like bike riding and swimming.
Detective Dean might have been on a roll, but his wagon had suddenly come to a stop.
Are you going to continue to play detective and grill the poor woman, or is this a fun trip?
The two had shared Dean's bachelorhood for fifteen years until Dean, an ex-Pennsylvania police detective married Cynthia Byrne seven months earlier.
Stick to your crystal ball and leave the detective work to me.
You didn't tell the detective what you suspected about the man who tried to kill you?
I needed time to formulate a response to Detective Jackson's questions but I wished I had some idea of the extent of what he knew or had deduced.
I blurted out my suspicions to Detective Jackson and said a prayer.
The detective gave me a look but said nothing as he led me down a long corridor to a darkened back room.
I asked about detective Dick and was told to wait outside.
Finding another Dawkins in one of Ouray's dozen or two lodging places shouldn't be much trouble for an ace detective-almost sheriff.
"Maybe it's the old detective coming out," he answered.
Am I not a detective with inordinate skills?
I needed twenty minutes to bring the retired detective up to date.
Knowing the local police included Detective Jackson, I suggested he contact the Simi Valley attorney first to find out if the vehicle I saw was in fact his.
Do you think this detective suspects you folks are involved with the tipster or does he simply doesn't know why you're all lying?
If I hadn't been summoned to Detective Jackson's office, I would have gone there anyway.
I never did find out what Howie told Detective Jackson but whatever was said, it put Jackson in a tizzy.
I didn't at first recognize the New Hampshire number but remembered I'd given mine to Detective Jackson.
"Here," I said, handing detective Dick my phone.
"I'll take you to the mall," he said in his tight accent but as I started to move toward his old car, Detective Dick, my phone in his hand, yelled.
Detective Carl Dick remained on the line with Jackson for most of the three mile trip.
Then I remember Detective Jackson.
I couldn't think of a logical way to advise Detective Jackson.
Then I remembered Detective Jackson.
I considered calling Howie and learn what he'd told the detective before I blurted out something that totally contradicted what my former partner in crime had related.