The Kiwi Target

Peter answered.
    “May I have your name, please?”
    “Peter Ferguson.”
    “American?”
    “Yes.”
    The sergeant stepped to the door and spoke to someone out of Peter’s range of vision. Then he came back. “Now, sir, please sit down and give me your account.”
    As Peter settled himself to face the inevitable, he was grateful that his interrogator was such a clearly reasonable, even sympathetic person. In as few words as possible he told his story. He said nothing about his driving speed or his momentary lapse in allowing himself to drive briefly on the right.
    “Did I understand you to say that the victim of the accident fell from a height directly onto the bonnet of your car?” the sergeant asked.
    “That’s the impression I got, Sergeant, but it happened so fast I can’t be positive about anything.” That was the truth, and Peter strongly hoped that it would be accepted as such.
    The constable he had met at the hospital came into the room hearing two thick mugs of tea and a shaker of sugar. Peter took his tea, added a little sugar, and then discovered that he had no way of stirring the mixture. “Thank you very much,” he said. “Most welcome. Sorry we don’t have a fancier service.”
    As the constable finished speaking, a new man came into the room. He was a trim six feet in an immaculate uniform. Peter got to his feet. He could not read the insignia on the uniform, but obviously this was a higher-level officer. The sergeant did the honors. “Mr. Ferguson, this is Inspector Jarvis.”
    The inspector shook hands briefly. “I hear you had a nasty bit of luck on the road coming in,” he said.
    Peter was wary that some kind of a trap might be concealed in the way that had been put. “The nasty luck was had by the man I hit,” he answered. “Can you tell me how he is?”
    The inspector’s voice was unruffled. “I’m sorry to say, Mr. Ferguson, that he’s dead. However, it’s much to your credit that you stopped as you did and rendered assistance.”
    “Thank you,” Peter said, and realized immediately that he would have to add something to that. “I’m very sorry to learn—” The inspector moved a palm sideways. “I know that you’ve just given a statement to Sergeant Holcomb, but would you mind repeating it for me?”
    Once more Peter recited his story, underlining that his surprise had been total and that he was reporting to the best of his recollection.
    The inspector seemed to have a reservation. “Are you pressed for time, Mr. Ferguson?”
    “Not pressed, no.” Peter was cautious.
    “It’s quite important that we know exactly where this accident occurred. I’d appreciate it very much if you’d oblige me by pointing out the spot.”
    “It’s quite a ways back down the road,” Peter said, and then wished that he hadn’t. It sounded too much as if he didn’t want to cooperate.
    “Yes, I understand that. I’ll drive, of course, if you’ll just come along.”
    “Of course,” Peter agreed, hoping that would mend things- “Please understand that I’ve never seen the road before, and I may have some trouble.”
    The inspector led the way to the parking lot and indicated a marked police unit. As Peter climbed into the left-hand front seat, he noted two other policemen in raincoats loading equipment into the trunk of a similar vehicle. That unsettled him, because he wanted everything to be as simple as possible. Then he remembered that he had just killed a man, and his whole body tightened. It was not a simple matter, and he would have to watch his step very carefully.
    During the trip back, the inspector drove expertly with obvious full familiarity with the road. When he offered no conversation, Peter followed his example and remained silent. He had already concluded that the less he said at that point, the better.
    Eventually the inspector rounded another of the seemingly endless curves, and Peter saw a straight stretch ahead of him. “This could be it,” he said.
    The inspector slowed immediately. “Don’t forget, Mr. Ferguson, that a road always looks very different from opposite directions, even if you drive it every day.”
    “I know,” Peter replied. He judged his distances very carefully, then said, “About here.”
    In response the inspector brought the car to a halt. The rain was still reasonably heavy as Peter opened his door and got out. Behind him the second car was waiting.
    He walked down the road a short distance and then turned around. There