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Pressing the button with his elbow to again avoid those telltale prints, Robert held his breath and said several prayers as the mobile room made its way to the garage level of the building.
After leaving the elevator and sighing in relief that he wasn't killed by the mechanical beast, Robert checked his watch. The whole episode had taken just about the same amount of time as walking down the nine flights of stairs from the office. Perfect.
Sam, the parking lot guard, hadn't seen Robert leave the elevator, but Robert made sure Sam saw him enter his car. They always exchanged pleasantries, so there was nothing unusual in this, but it did serve to establish the time of Robert's arrival in the parking garage.
Robert stuffed his brother-in-law's pistol under a pile of papers in the glove compartment and went about his business as usual - lunch, a trip to the bank to cash his check, and then back to the office.
This time as Robert reached the office after having scaled his daily nine flights of stairs, he was greeted by two uniformed policemen. After explaining who he was and where he had been, Harvey was allowed to enter the office.
Inside there were several more uniformed policemen and three detectives in plain clothes. One of these approached Robert, who by now wore his best look of bewilderment. He had been practicing this at lunch and was confident he could play innocent and confused.
The detective asked Robert the questions he expected to hear: Who was he? Where had he gone? Did he usually go to lunch at that time? Did he see anyone in the elevator when he went downstairs? What? Never took the elevator? Well then, did he see anyone on his way down the stairs?
Robert was truly sorry he couldn't be of any help, but he really hadn't seen anyone. No, he didn't know of anyone who might want to kill Mr. Walsh. Oh, no, he and Mr. Walsh never associated socially. Yes, of course Robert understood that they would have to check on everything he said. And on, and on, and on.
That night when Robert walked through the kitchen door, his wife and brother-in-law assaulted him with another barrage of questions. News bulletins of Mr. Walsh's death had been flashing on television all day long. Did Robert see who did it? Did he hear anything? Did the police question him? What did he say?
Robert excused himself, saying he had to change his clothes. Then he'd answer their questions.
Once upstairs, Robert replaced Phil's pistol beneath its camouflage of socks and changed into his leisure clothes. As he walked back downstairs, Robert actually found himself whistling a little tune.
Conversation at dinner that night centered exclusively around the assassination of Mr. Walsh. Robert kept pleading ignorant to all the intimate details of the murder demanded of him by his wife and brother-in-law. They were more than a little disgruntled with his lack of knowledge about the affair.
"Really! A man is murdered right under your nose and you don't know anything about it. No wonder people call you dull. Weren't you even a little bit interested? Not even enough to ask a few questions? Well, honestly, at least you could have thought about me.