Kill 3By the next morning, Staff Sergeant Riley had already collected much of the information I’d asked him to collect concerning the Blue Train rapist. He shoved the printouts across his desk. I sipped on my coffee and started going over them.“Where’s Ernie?” he asked.“Last night,” I replied, “he worked late on a case.”“What case?”“The case you said the Provost Marshal was so hot on. Theft from the Country Western All Stars.”Riley squinted suspiciously. “Ernie has a lead?”I ignored him and continued to shuffle through the paperwork.Staff Sergeant Riley is a paper-pusher. Nothing more. Still, he likes to pretend that he’s giving orders when he’s only relaying them, and he pokes his nose into every case that interests him, which is most of them. Ernie and I tolerate him because he has extensive contacts throughout the 8th Army headquarters complex and he often saves us a lot of legwork.Yesterday, before we’d left the office, I’d asked Riley to contact the American military units that are located near the route of the Blue Train.
