Occam's Razor Read Free

early morning hours.
    “Were you able to recognize or see any of them clearly?” I asked her.
    She shook her head. “They were all in coats and hats. And it was dark.”
    “How about when they passed in front of the headlights? Did you see anything unusual then?”
    “There were no headlights. That’s why I started looking in the first place. Cars drive along the tracks at night all the time—dopers, prostitutes, you name it. But they all use their headlights till they park. When I noticed this one being so secretive, I got curious.” She stopped again and rubbed her cheek with her palm. “I wish I hadn’t.”
    “What time was this, Mrs. Rudd?”
    “Around one, I guess.”
    “Did you hear anything?”
    There was dead silence in the room. I heard Ron’s footsteps returning from the landing and hoped he wouldn’t alter the mood. But he was hypersensitive by now, and stopped before coming into view.
    Finally Edith Rudd sat back in her seat, as if suddenly releasing an enormous weight. “I heard the train.”
    I returned to my chair. “My God. You saw it happen?”
    She seemed more sure of herself now, almost surprised at how easy it had been. “The train blocked the view, but I saw the before and after.”
    “And the men in the car?”
    “They’d left by then. The train comes by at one-thirty every night. They waited a little while after laying him out, probably checking to see if anyone saw them, but then they drove off.”
    “What kind of car was it?”
    A small flash of irritation crossed her face, and I sensed she was recovering. “It was nighttime.”
    I smiled and shook my head, trying to regain her confidence. “No, no. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean what make or model,” I lied. “I wondered if you could tell whether it was a station wagon or a sedan, light or dark, large or small—something like that.”
    “Oh. Let’s see. I guess it was a large sedan, I suppose dark-colored, but there I’m not so sure.”
    I rose to my feet and shook her hand. “Thank you, Mrs. Rudd. You’ve been a big help. Are you sure you’re feeling okay? This must’ve been a shock.”
    She answered by struggling out of the sofa’s grip and escorting me to the door, tapping me on the elbow as we went. “I’m fine. I’m a tough old bird.”
    I paused at the door, aware of Ron fading out of earshot down the hall again. “Why did you tell us that tall tale earlier? You knew it was us down there with the light. I bet you even recognized me.”
    She smiled coquettishly, revealing a row of darkened, misshapen teeth, and tilted her head in Ron’s direction. “I could tell he didn’t like me. And he called me Edith, just like the nurses and ambulance people.”

2
    RON KLESCZEWSKI STOPPED ME at the bottom of the stairs, just shy of the building’s front door. We could see through the glass the first wave of morning traffic filling the streets, passing before us in quick, familiar flashes.
    “I screwed up. I should’ve read her better.”
    I laughed and shook my head, having told him on the way down what Edith Rudd had seen. “I don’t think so. If I’d been the first one in, she would’ve handed me what you got—pure luck of the draw. She had to tell one of us the truth. It was piled up inside her like water behind a dam. You know if the canvass has dug up anyone else?”
    He unclipped a portable radio from his belt. “I’ll find out.”
    I stopped him. “It’ll keep—I was just wondering. I’m going back to the office. We’ll all compare notes around lunchtime, anyhow.”
    We parted company on the sidewalk, Ron heading for the next door on the block, and I walking north, through Brattleboro’s heart, toward the Municipal Center at the far end of Main Street.
    I needed to do more, however, than just jar my sleepless brain with a brisk walk in the bone-chilling air. I found it useful, when I needed to think, to get away from home and office both and to wander the streets I’d patrolled since first