TWENTY-THREE
The salesmen at the garage had done as expected and informed the police. Chaise’s car proved easy to locate and by the time they arrived, Colin stood by the tree, rubbing his chaffed wrists. Of Chaise, there was no sign. The patrol car swung around in a tight arc, throwing up a cloud of dust and debris as it broke. Both the officers got out.
“Are you in some sort of difficulty, sir?”
Colin gave a wry smile and shook his head. “None whatsoever, officer. What seems to be the trouble?”
“We had a report, sir. Someone attacked you apparently, or at least someone answering your description. Can you confirm that for us?”
Colin shrugged. “It was nothing.”
“An assault in a public place isn’t nothing, sir,” said the second officer, studying the rental car.
“Can you accompany us t
