Zigzag Read Free

you could tell, did Mr. Bishop, the driver on Ridgecrest, take any evasive action when he came through the intersection?”
    â€œEvasive action?”
    â€œTry to swerve out of the way to avoid the collision.”
    â€œWell … just before he hit the other car, yes.”
    â€œOnly just before?”
    â€œAt the last second.”
    â€œHe claims he sounded a warning. In your statement you said you couldn’t recall hearing his horn blow.”
    Mrs. Blunt sipped some of her tea, pinky extended like a character in a British drawing room farce, before she answered. “Well, all my windows were closed and it was a windy, foggy day. But I think I would have heard a horn if it had been blowing.”
    Small points in Arthur Clements’ favor. Enough to sway a civil court judge and jury? Probably not.
    â€œCould he have seen the Clements car coming as he neared the intersection?”
    â€œI doubt it. Trees there block your vision, which is why a person should always come slow down the hill.”
    â€œDid he seem to be fighting for control of his car, could you tell? The way somebody would if his brakes had gone out and he was trying to use gears or the emergency brake to reduce his speed?”
    â€œThat’s a hard question to answer. The accident happened so fast, as I said. He might have been, I suppose, but … well, the impression I had was of a person going too fast and not paying proper attention.”
    â€œBut you can’t be sure?”
    â€œNo. It was just an impression.” Her jaw firmed and she added deprecatingly, “I’m very aware of distracted drivers these days. The ones who talk or text on their cell phones are a menace. The fines for that kind of carelessness ought to be much larger than they are.”
    I agreed completely. Stiffer fines was the only way to reduce the number of idiots who believe they can safely do one or two other things while operating a couple thousand pounds of potentially lethal machinery. But David Bishop evidently hadn’t been guilty of that particular error in judgment. He’d owned a cell phone, but it had been in his coat pocket at the time of the accident and unused for any purpose since the previous night. If he’d been distracted, something else was the cause.
    I asked some more of the questions I’d put to George Orcutt, with the same lack of results. No, she didn’t know David Bishop, couldn’t remember ever seeing him prior to the accident. Yes, she knew George Orcutt slightly but couldn’t or wouldn’t say what she thought of him as a reliable witness.
    â€œIs there anything else you can tell me, Mrs. Blunt? Anything at all that might help clarify what took place that day?”
    â€œI wish there was, but no, I—” She broke off, frowning, the way you do at a sudden memory jog. “Oh. Oh, wait. Floyd Mears.”
    â€œFloyd Mears?”
    â€œI just remembered. He pulled out of the service station in that big white pickup of his just as I passed. Yes, I’m sure he did.”
    â€œHe was behind you when the accident happened?”
    â€œHe must have been. A short distance behind. But he wasn’t there when I stopped and got out after the crash.”
    â€œTurned off the highway?”
    â€œNo, he couldn’t have. There’s no other road between the service station and Ridgecrest. In all the excitement and confusion I completely forgot about him at the time, or else I’d have told the officers.” Mrs. Blunt sat forward, peering at a point over my right shoulder while she worked her memory. “He must have made a sudden U-turn. I seem to have a vague recollection of his pickup going away in the opposite direction.”
    â€œSo he could also have witnessed the collision.”
    She said, purse-lipped, “And drove away to avoid becoming involved. That would be just like the man.”
    I wondered if George Orcutt had seen Floyd Mears