Chapter 5
SITTING THERE in his car, facing the blank brick wall of the theatre building, McCloud tried to consider his position as dispassionately as though he were merely a spectator. It was pretty difficult.
Not only had he locked one cop in a closet; he had further antagonized the force by knocking another for a loop. Both incidents were bound to convict him in the eyes of the law, if not of the actual shooting of Margie Garland, at least of complicity. He wondered if Jessup had managed to do anything. Apparently not, for the motorcycle cop had said that there was a general alarm out. And thinking of Jessup only reminded him anew of the lost fifteen thousand dollars. Come to think of it, there was something very curious about that. It was almost as though the man or men in the darkene
