“I don’t know what his interest is, Cy. I didn’t ask. He might have started to quiz me about it, and you handled it. There’s nothing new, is there?” “No.” “I figured you’d tell me if there was. He wanted to come here, but what the hell. Go talk with him.” “When does he expect me?” Phil gave him a slip with a telephone number. “Just call and tell him when you can stop by.” There was nothing new on the hit-and-run, but Cy reviewed what was old before calling Amos Cadbury. The paint the lab had scraped from the parking meter that the vehicle had grazed when it bounced down off the curb after striking Fleck was in a plastic bag in the evidence room. “You want me to keep that?” Zeller asked. Zeller was in charge of the evidence room. Most of his day was spent leaning out of the dutch door of his domain, watching other people work. He had a year to go until retirement and had finally landed the assignment he had always wanted. “You in the habit of throwing evidence away?”
