Timuroff turned his back, and walked back to his office, Kielty at his heels. The plainclothesman lagged behind, fascinated by the weapons in their cases.
“You’ve been doing your smart-ass detective act just long enough.” Kielty was crowing now. “Maybe Pete goes for it, but a lot of us at headquarters, we’re fed up to the gills. This once, you’d better find some real sharp answers!” Timuroff sat down. He smiled with all the warmth of a Siberian winter. “Mr. Kielty, if you had consulted your medical examiner, you’d have realized that neither I nor Dr. Grimwood could possibly have killed van Zaam, because we were elsewhere when he died. It would have saved you from attempting so absurd a bluff. As for holding me as a material witness—try it.” His voice hardened. “Pete Cominazzo is a friend
