The Hit and Run

By Peter Green

Frank Vogel has developed a unique line of hair-care products and needs money to grow. When he runs an ad in The New York Times asking for investors, Thomas Harwood replies and agrees to invest three million dollars to get the products into the market.

Harwood claims that his money is coming from a settlement with the federal government that involves a bank in Colorado and the government bailout of the Savings and Loan industry in the 1980s. He tells Vogel that he's signed a confidentiality agreement and can't say any more about it. Nine months later, he's still saying the same thing, while Vogel teeters on the verge of bankruptcy. After contacting other companies in which Harwood has promised to invest, Vogel learns an interesting fact: they're all desperate for capital and Harwood's been giving them all the same runaround.

Finally, Harwood informs Vogel that there's been a breakthrough. The government has agreed to pay him and everyone will get their money. But before the payout date comes, Harwood is found dead on the side of the road. Is it a hit-and-run accident, or is it cold-blooded murder?

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Nov 22, 2006
• ISBN: 9780595842254

Peter Green

Peter Green is Dougherty Centennial Professor of Classics Emeritus at the University of Texas, Austin, and currently Visiting Professor of History at the University of Iowa, Iowa City. His other books available from California include a translation of The Argonautika: The Story of Jason and the Quest for the Golden Fleece (1997), Alexander to Actium: The Historical Evolution of the Hellenistic Age (1990), Alexander of Macedon, 356-323 B.C.: A Historical Biography (1991), The Laughter of Aphrodite: A Novel about Sappho of Lesbos (1993), and The Greco-Persian Wars (1996).

Book preview

CHAPTER 1 

0ctober10th 1997, Tuesday

8.50 pm

Blackness surrounded Thomas Harwood completely. He felt nothing. Saw nothing. He floated on a sea of darkness that seemed to go on for ever. Then slowly, like the breaking of the dawn, came an awareness that intruded on his serenity and spoiled his calm. He watched as it chased off the blackness, intrigued as the light took over dark. He drifted in a dreamy haze as sounds he was not even sure were there crept into his cottony wonderland.

Gradually he came to and found himself lying on the side of the road crumpled like a broken doll. An arm hung one way. A leg another. Blood flowed freely from a gash on his forehead. The car that hit him didn’t stop and disappeared quickly into the night.

He was feeling pleased with himself is what he remembered. Walking along the side of the road in the best of moods. And, for the first time since the whole business began, he’d let himself go and let his mind wander to the money. All that money.

And it was then, the moment he began thinking about the money, that he heard it. Softly at first. Then louder as a car suddenly appeared round the bend. It’s headlights blazing. It’s engine roaring. Coming straight at him. Thudding into him. Tossing him high into the air like a discarded toy.

And then

He lay there unable to move, listening to the motor as it faded into the distance. Then there was no noise at all. Just the sounds of his own painful breathing.

not even that.

CHAPTER 2 

Tuesday evening 9.05 pm.

Patrolman Eddie Smith of the Columbia Police Department set out flares and positioned his patrol car to shield the covered body from passing motorists. He made his report to the dispatcher who then called in a photographer, medical examiner, crime scene crew and an ambulance. Then he questioned the Samaritan, a Mr. Arnold Porter, who had discovered the corpse and phoned it in. Eddie took Porter’s statement and by the time he was finished a car with a flashing blue light on it’s roof parked behind his prowler.

Detective Jimmy Dougan turned off the flasher and pulled it in from the roof of his Chevy sedan. He threw it on the front seat, got out of the car and walked towards them. He was a paunchy forty eight. Average height. Bare headed with stringy gray hair that needed cutting and combing. There was a twinkle in his gray eyes and his chubby shopworn face had a look of intelligence and sensitivity. He wore jeans and sneakers, a chunky blue turtle neck and a rumpled black overcoat that came to his knees. He’d come from home where he got the call rousing him from a deep sleep on his threadbare couch in front of the television set.

Evening Eddie, he said and gave Mr. Porter a reassuring grin. He shoved his hands in his coat pockets and looked round the crime scene.

The body was covered by a gray blanket and lay thirty feet from the road half way to the tree line. The trees were old and stately with thick trunks that cast eerie shadows. The sputtering flares bathed them in a smoky pink haze. The cruiser’s red flashing light added a pulsating rhythm that bordered on the bizarre.

Jimmy said, What’s going on? His breath rose like a cloud of steam in the cold night air.

It looks like a hit and run, said Eddie and gave Jimmy a quick rundown on what he’d done so far. It ended with him reporting that Porter’s car had no marks on it to suggest he had anything to do with the accident. Eddie said it out loud. In front of Mr. Porter. With no sense of the need for discretion.

Mr. Porter was horrified. It never occurred to him that he’d be seen as a suspect. This realization surprised him and hurt him deeply. He was a mousy little man with a pinched face and hollow cheeks. His sunken eyes were partly obscured by a black fedora. The smoke from the flares and the eerie red light bouncing off his slender body and dark clothing made him look other world-ish.

Mr. Porter says the man was dead when he found him, Eddie continued. Unaware he’d wounded the man so badly.

Jimmy looked at Porter for confirmation. Shaken and unhappy Mr. Porter nodded meekly.

Do you know the guy?

No, said Porter. His squeaky voice quivered with anxiety. Was anyone around when you stopped? asked Jimmy. Porter shook his head.

What about when you first came round the bend? No.

Did you see a car speeding away? Ported shook his head again sadly.

Jimmy turned up the collar of his coat and stamped his feet. It was cold and his feet were freezing. Are those your shoe prints? He said pointing to the ones heading towards the body.

Porter nodded.

Did you touch anything?

No, Porter said with a hint of indignation, I did not. Check his heart for a beat?

Porter shuddered at the thought and shook his head. You could see he was dead though. How so?

There was no steam coming out of his face, said the mousy little man. I stood there a couple of minutes to make sure. No breath came out of him. I’d have seen it don’t you think? He looked up at their breaths rising in the chilly night air.

Jimmy said he would.

They stood silently for a moment looking at the covered mound. A sudden breeze rustled the leafless branches and swirled the smoke from the flares. Jimmy thought it looked like the set from a horror movie. He forced a reassuring smile in Porter’s direction. Is there anything else you can tell me Mr. Porter?

Not really, squeaked Porter. Like I told the officer, I was on my way home to Stamford. I’d been at my sister’s. I saw this heap on the side of the road, he glanced furtively at the body then back at Jimmy. I slowed down to get a better look. Then I stopped and got out to see if I could help, but it was too late. Like I said, the guy was already dead so I called you.

And we appreciate it, said Jimmy with a sudden smile. Don’t think that we don’t. He figured he got all he was going to get from Mr. Porter and it was time to wrap things up. It was cold and he was tired and there was still a lot to do. He looked at Eddie. Have you got Mr. Porter’s statement Eddie? Eddie nodded that he had.

Jimmy thanked Porter profusely for his help and began walking him back to his car. Don’t be upset Eddie checked your car out, he said kindly. Knowing the man had taken offense. It’s procedure. I’d have given him a hard time if he hadn’t done it.

Porter gave him a weak smile to say that he understood.

It must have been very trying for you, this whole thing, said Jimmy as he opened Porter’s car door for him. Are you okay to drive? Porter said he was.

He got in the car and started it up. He was so anxious to get away from there that he gave the car too much gas. The wheels spun and squealed and shot bits of gravel in all directions till the tortured tires gained some traction. Then the car shot forward and disappeared up the road in a cloud of dust.

Jimmy shook his head and brushed off some grit from his coat. He sure was in a hurry to get away from here, said Eddie. Jimmy thought that was an understatement.

CHAPTER 3 

Tuesday evening. 9.45 pm.

Eddie was wound up like a kid in a candy store. This sort of thing never happened in Columbia, not since he’d been there anyway. He was hopping from foot to foot like he had to go to the bathroom. He said to Jimmy excitedly. You think that old guy told us everything?

Eddie was the same age as Jimmy with a little more hair and a much bigger gut. He was taller too and played the line from eighth grade through high school holding back defenses so Jimmy Dougan could score all those points back in Brooklyn, when they were kids. That’s how long they’ve known each other. They each went into the police force, but at different times. Jimmy’s star rose quicker than Eddie’s. Eddie never got out of the ranks. Jimmy made detective quickly and was a rising star till he caught his wife cheating on him and his life fell apart. Eddie came to Columbia looking for a change a few years after Jimmy, not knowing Jimmy was there.

Jimmy said he didn’t think Porter held anything back.

Eddie wouldn’t have it. What about him taking off like that?

Jimmy raised an eyebrow, What about it?

Jesus Jimmy.

The man was freaked.

Yeah but why? Eddie wanted to know.

Finding the body must have blown his mind, said Jimmy.

Eddie snorted.

Jimmy grinned at him.

What? said Eddie.

You really think HE did this?

Eddie got belligerent. Why’d he leave the scene in such a hurry like that?

Why’d he report it in the first place? Jimmy countered. Why didn’t he just keep going? And why weren’t there any marks on his car?

Eddie pursed his lips.

Jimmy grinned some more.

What? said Eddie.

Nothing, said Jimmy and kept on grinning. Eddie was getting annoyed. C’mon. What is it? You really thought he did it?

Eddie gave him a fuck you look and shrugged his shoulders. I was just asking is all. Everyone’s supposed to be a suspect in these things aren’t they, so I was just asking.

I don’t see that weasley little guy having anything to do with this, said Jimmy seriously. Nor do I think he saw something he’s not telling us. He’d have been twitchy if he knew anything. Instead that man was just plain scared. Eddie was going to say something else, but Jimmy gave him the eye so he let it go.

Jimmy wandered up the road to see if he could find the place where the victim got hit. Eddie trailed along behind him. They didn’t have far to go.

Here it is, said Jimmy coming close to the spot but not right up to it. Not wanting to contaminate the site for the lab boys.

Eddie shone his flashlight though he didn’t really need to. The full moon bathed everything in an eerie glow. Jimmy saw broken glass and blood spattered over a single rut and the surrounding area. The rut went back a ways and seemed to drift towards the point of impact. Then the track went back on the road. You could see the muddy trail on the pavement.

They looked from where the body lay to where they stood.

They must have hit him pretty hard, said Eddie. Look how far away he landed.

Jimmy looked up and down the road for skid marks but there were none.

Eddie shone the light again. It doesn’t look like they stopped either. They walked back towards the cars.

They could’ve not known they hit something, said Eddie. People talking in the car. The driver’s distracted.

You’d feel a bump though, wouldn’t you? said Jimmy.

You would, agreed Eddie.

So why not stop?

Eddie said people do it all the time. Maybe they were drinking. Or they had stuff outstanding?

So why get into a hassle? said Jimmy. Agreeing with Eddie’s argument. Back at the cars Jimmy said, Not for nothing, but judging by the way that single track drifted over to the point of impact I’d say they were aiming straight for him.

Eddie looked surprised. I’m just saying, said Jimmy.

Then quite suddenly the multitudes were upon them. Patrol cars and State Troopers with lights flashing and sirens blazing. Their own guys. The ambulance. A crime scene crew tumbling out of a white van. Then the local press. Photographers. A TV camera with its bright lights, snaking cables and a man running around with a microphone in his hand. It had suddenly become a cast of thousands.

CHAPTER 4 

Tuesday evening. 10.15pm.

Jimmy greeted the crime scene crew like they were long lost friends. The crew was based in White Plains and they hadn’t seen each other since someone had been found dead in a house in the middle of town six months ago. There was much back slapping and catching up after which Jimmy told them what he knew about the situation and left them to it.

Jimmy leaned against the side of his car and watched everyone get to work. What looked like chaos quickly turned into an orderly crime scene run by professionals that do this sort of thing all the time. Barriers went up to keep outsiders away. A tent-like structure was erected over the body. Troopers worked the traffic though there was precious little of it at this time of night. Everything was done in a matter of minutes. An hour later he was still leaning on the car waiting to find out who the dead body was.

Jimmy Dougan grew up in Brooklyn. He was the only child of an abusive father and an alcoholic mother. He got out of the house as fast as he could and did a stretch in the army as an MP. He became a NYPD cop when he got out of the service and quickly made detective. He was a good one too until he came home early one day and found his wife in bed with his best friend. Things weren’t the same after that and he went down hill fast. First came the divorce. Then the booze and the fuck ups, until he managed to pull himself together and climb out of the mess. That’s when he moved to Columbia where no one knew him and he could reinvent himself. That was twelve years ago and he hadn’t touched a drop since..

A man detached himself from underneath the crime scene tent, exchanged a few words with some of the people there and walked towards Jimmy. In one hand he carried a medical bag, for this was Columbia’s Medical Examiner. In the other hand, he clutched a wallet.

The M.E. was in his late sixties. He had on an old pinstripe suit and a thin bow-tie that nobody wore any more. His oily gray hair was cut in a short back and sides with a side part and he wore steel rimmed glasses that made him look remarkably like Harry Truman.

As the M.E. neared Jimmy he drawled in a scratchy voice, It’s a car that killed him, no doubt about that. Not long before that feller found him. Say around nine. Maybe a little before. The man’s in his late fifties, I’d say. In good shape as far as I can tell. He’s got a wedding band on so it looks like he’s married. The lab boys found some green paint chips on him. They said they’d have a better fix on that for you tomorrow. They asked me to give you this. He handed Jimmy the wallet he was clutching. The ME kept moving. Not stopping for niceties. You’ll get my preliminary report first thing in the morning, he said over his shoulder. He was in his car and on his way before Jimmy could ask him a question.

The wallet was a beat up affair scuffed and scarred and bulging with rubbish that must have taken years to accumulate. Folded scraps of paper. Stamps. Clippings of one sort or another. Business cards and receipts. Some singles. A five and a ten. Even some paper clips. Jimmy had a wallet just like it with the same sort of crap inside. There was no driver’s license, but Jimmy found a library card with a name and address on it.

Thomas Harwood. 18 New Town Road. Columbia, NY 10340.

Eddie came over to see what he had. Jimmy showed him the library card. Know him? he asked.

Eddie said he didn’t. It always surprised him when he came across someone he didn’t know at least by sight. He’d been driving these roads for years and he thought he knew everyone.

Jimmy said he thought he’d take a ride over to see if the man had any family."

CHAPTER 5 

Tuesday evening 11pm

Jimmy found the Harwood house without any trouble. It was a modest two story affair, one of a series that all looked alike, built on quarter-acre plots close to the road. He pulled into an empty driveway in front of a closed garage attached to the building. The place had an air of decline to it. Paint peeled everywhere, the grass needed cutting and the flower beds were choked with weeds. As he approached the house the front door opened. A woman who looked much younger than Harwood stood in the light. Her thin face was framed by frizzy shoulder length blonde hair. Black roots showed prominently. A trim figure sat on a five foot seven frame. She wore old worn sneakers, blue jeans frayed at the knees and an over sized olive green sweatshirt. Jimmy figured she was in her mid-thirties. Round her legs clung a waif like child with a dirty face and a runny nose.

Jimmy introduced himself and showed her his badge. Are you Mrs. Har-wood?

What’s wrong? she asked. Worry quickly showing on her face. You’re Mrs. Harwood?

Yes, she said. I’m Mary Harwood, and threw an arm protectively round the child peering from behind her legs. What’s the matter?

I think it might be better if we spoke inside, said Jimmy gently.

She invited