“When this is cleared up, I’ll wager whoever did it was someone within ten miles of where we now stand.” APPROXIMATELY FOUR HUNDRED MILES east of where Arthur Clutter then stood, two young men were sharing a booth in the Eagle Buffet, a Kansas City diner. One—narrow-faced, and with a blue cat tattooed on his right hand—had polished off several chicken-salad sandwiches and was now eying his companion’s meal: an untouched hamburger and a glass of root beer in which three aspirin were dissolving. “Perry, baby,” Dick said, “you don’t want that burger. I’ll take it.” Perry shoved the plate across
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