There was only one problem. All three boys flat out denied having killed Pete Collins.
“We didn’t kill no one,” the pimpled youth who went by the name of Gary Simms insisted, “We don’t kill people, we just wanted some money and some beer. And when we heard that guy coming down the stairs, we ran away.”
Helen leant across the table. “So let me get this right, Gary,” she said, “The three of you ran away because you were scared of an old man.”
Gary scowled. “He didn’t sound old when he came down the stairs.”
After a couple of hours, Helen finally decided to take a break. Let Gary and his pals stew a bit in the holding cells. Maybe that would make them more cooperative.
She checked her watch. Time for the autopsy.
With its white tiles and overly bright lightning, the autopsy room was alm
