CHAPTER 13THIS SOWING OF DEATH
TUCK looked at the drying bitten sandwich. He looked at the cold pool of coffee in the bottom of the cylindrical cardboard container. He stood up and walked to the circular expanse of windows which walled in the tower of the City Hall. He stood at a northeast window, looking out across the wide flat expanse of city, sharps in the white winter sunlight, to the low blue hills above Hollywood.
Nothing fits, he thought. Every theory comes finally smack up against the fact that no one had the physical and psychological opportunity to poison Denise Morrissey, and kill Falkoner and the dogs.
“Hello, there!” said Brigit’s voice.
He turned and faced her and Froody across the huge model of downtown Los Angeles which had adorned the center of the tower for a long ti
