Dick Gibbs (Basketball)

Then we drove to Olathe, and I dropped Perry off at the hotel where he was living. I’d say that was around eleven. Afterward, I went home and had dinner with the family. Same as every Sunday-Watched TV—a basketball game, or maybe it was football. I was pretty tired.” “When did you next see Perry Smith?” “Monday. He came by where I worked. Bob Sands’ Body Shop.” “And what did you talk about? Mexico?” “Well, we still liked the idea, even if we hadn’t got hold of the money to do all we had in mind—put ourselves in business down there. But we wanted to go, and it seemed worth the risk.” “Worth another stretch in Lansing?” “That didn’t figure. See, we never intended coming Stateside again.” Nye, who had been jotting notes in a notebook, said, “On the day following the check spree—that would be the twenty-first—you and your friend Smith disappeared. Now, Dick, please out-line your movements between then and the time of your arrest here in Las Vegas. Just a rough idea.” Hickock whistled and rolled his eyes. “Wow!” he said, and then, then, summoning his talent for something very like total recall, he began an account of the long ride—the approximately ten thousand miles he and Smith had covered in the past six weeks ...»