The Second Confesion

Again the report got postponed, this time by the arrival of Doc Vollmer. He accepted Wolfe's offer of a bottle of beer, as he always did when he called in the evening, and after it had been brought by Fritz and his throat was wet he told his story. His reception at White Plains had been neither warm nor cold, he said, just businesslike, and after a phone call to Wolfe an Assistant DA had escorted him to the morgue. As for what he had found, the best he could do was a guess. The centre of the impact of the car's wheels had been the fifth rib, and the only sign of injury higher on Rony than that was a bruise on the right side of his head, above the ear. Things that had happened to his hips and legs showed that they had been under the car, so his head and shoulders must have been projecting beyond the wheels. It was possible that the head bruise had been caused by contact with the gravel of the drive, but it was also possible that he had been struck on the head with something and knocked out before the car ran over him. If the latter, the instrument had not been something with a sharp edge, or with a limited area of impact like the head of a hammer or wrench, but neither had it had a smooth surface like a baseball bat. It had been blunt and rough and heavy.

Wolfe was frowning. “A golf club?” “I shouldn't think so.” “A tennis racket?” “Not heavy enough.” “A piece of iron pipe?” “No. Too smooth.” “A piece of a branch from a tree with stubs of twigs on it?” “That would be perfect if it were heavy enough.” Vollmer swallowed some beer.