Read Online Chase: Roman by Dean Koontz - Free Book Online

time Wallace was in and willing to speak to him.
        ‘Nothing's going as well as we hoped,’ Wallace said. ‘He doesn't seem to have been printed. At least, the prints on that knife don't match up with anything in federal or state files.’
        ‘They could have checked the files this quickly?’
        ‘Yeah,’ Wallace said. ‘They have computers that scan and compare much faster than a team of investigators could - something like the computers that read handwriting and sort mail at post offices.’
        ‘What about the ring?’
        ‘Turns out to be a cheap accessory that sells at under fifteen bucks retail in about every store in the state. Impossible to keep track of where and when and to whom a certain ring might be sold.’
        Chase committed himself reluctantly. ‘Then I have something for you,’ he said. In a few short sentences he told the detective about Judge's calls.
        Wallace was plainly angry, though he made an effort not to shout. ‘Why in the hell didn't you let us know about his before?’
        ‘I thought, with the prints, you'd be sure to get him.’
        ‘Prints hardly ever make a difference in a situation like this,’ Wallace said. There was still a bite in his voice, though it was muted now. He had evidently taken a moment to consider the stature of his informant.
        ‘Besides,’ Chase said, ‘the killer realized the chance of the line being tapped. He's been calling from pay phones and keeping the calls under five minutes.’
        Wallace said, ‘Just the same, I'd like to hear him. I'll be over with a man in fifteen minutes.’
        ‘Just one man?’
        Wallace said, ‘We'll try not to upset your routine too much.’
        Chase almost laughed at that. He said, ‘I'll be waiting.’
        
        The man who came with Wallace was introduced as James Tuppinger, and he was not said to have any rank with the police department, though Chase figured him as Wallace's equal. He was six inches taller than the detective and not so grey and ordinary-looking. He wore his blond hair in such a short crew cut that he appeared almost bald from a distance. His eyes were blue and moved from object to object with the swift, penetrating glance of an accountant itemizing an inventory. He carried a large suitcase in his right hand and didn't put it down when he offered Chase his left.
        Mrs Fiedling watched from the living room, where she pretended to be engrossed in a television programme, but she did not come out to see what was going on. Chase got the two of them upstairs before she could learn who they were.
        ‘Cozy little place you have,’ Wallace said.
        ‘It's enough for me,’ Chase said.
        Tuppinger's eyes flicked about, catching the unmade bed, the couple of dirty whisky glasses on the cupboard, the bottle of liquor which was nearly half empty. He did not say anything. He took his suitcase full of tools to the phone, put it down, and began examining the lead-in wires that came through the wall near the base of the single window.
        While Tuppinger worked, Wallace questioned Chase. ‘What did he sound like on the phone?’
        ‘Hard to say.’
        ‘Old? Young?’
        ‘In between.’
        ‘Accent?’
        ‘No.’
        ‘Speech impediment?’
        ‘No,’ Chase said. ‘At first, though, he was hoarse -apparently from the strangling I gave him.’
        Wallace said, ‘Can you remember what he said, each time he called?’
        ‘Approximately.’
        ‘Tell me, then.’ He slumped down in the only easy chair in the room and crossed his legs before him. He looked as if he had fallen asleep, though he was only conserving his energy while he waited.
        Chase told him everything that he could remember about the strange conversations with Judge, then revealed some things he had forgotten as Wallace asked a few more probing questions.
        ‘He sounds like a religious psychotic,’