out at the hospital. Could be. Or it could just be one of those flukes where you never figure out who did what to who. It's not real clear-cut from the position of the cars, and there isn't a hell of a lot left.” What there was, was being hacked into pieces so it could be removed. And they were starting to hose down the oil and debris, and the blood that had spattered on the pavement.
It would be another hour or two before bridge traffic could resume, and even then there would be only one lane open in each direction until the early morning, when the last of the wreckage was towed away to be examined.
The camera crews were getting ready to leave by then. There was nothing left to see, and the Senator's wife had refused to comment on the other driver's death. The highway patrol had protected her from them very discreetly.
It was twelve-thirty when they finally took her home to her house on Clay Street in San Francisco. Her husband was in Washington, D.C., and she had gone to a party in Belvedere. Her children were asleep in bed, and the housekeeper opened the door to them and began to cry when she saw Mrs. Hutchinson's disheveled state and heard the story.
Laura Hutchinson thanked them profusely, insisted that she didn't need to go to the hospital, and would see her own doctor the next morning, if there was any need for it. And she made them promise that they would call her to tell her of the other young people's condition.
She already knew that the young driver was dead, but they hadn't yet told her that Allyson would probably not survive until morning. The highway patrolmen felt sorry for her, she was so distraught, so frightened, so desperately upset by what had happened. She had cried terribly when she saw Phillip's body covered with the drape and removed. She had three children of her own, and the thought of these young people dying in an accident was almost more than she could bear to think of.
The patrolman who brought her home suggested that she take a tranquilizer that night, to calm her nerves, if she had any in the house, or at least have a strong drink. She looked as though she needed it, and he was sure that the Senator wouldn't mind his suggestion.
“I haven't had a drink all night,” she said nervously. “I never drink when I go out without my husband,” she explained.
“I think it would do you good, ma'am. Would you like me to get you one now?”
She hesitated, but he could sense that she would, and he went to the bar and poured her a drink himself. A good strong drink of brandy. She made a terrible face as she drank it down, but she smiled at him once she did, and thanked him. They had been wonderful to her all night, and she assured them that the Senator would be very grateful to know how kind they had been to her.
“Not at all.” He thanked her and left, and went to rejoin his partner outside, who inquired if he had thought to take her in to the hospital for an alcohol check, so they could rule that out in their investigation.
“For chrissake, Tom. The woman is a senator's wife, she's a nervous wreck over the accident, she saw a kid die, and she told me herself she hadn't had a drink all night. That's good enough for me.” The other highway patrolman shrugged, his partner was probably right. She was a senator's wife, she wasn't going to hit the highway at eleven o'clock at night half crocked and hit a bunch of kids. No one could be that dumb, and she looked like a nice woman.
“I just poured her a brandy anyway, so it's too late now, if you wanted me to go back in and ask for it. The poor thing needed a stiff drink. I think it did her good.”
“Might do me good too.” The patrolman grinned. “Did you bring me one?”
“Shut up. Christ …run an alcohol check …” He laughed. “What else did you want me to do? Fingerprint her?”
“Sure. Why not. The Senator would have probably set us up for a commendation.” The two men laughed and drove off into the night. It had already
It would be another hour or two before bridge traffic could resume, and even then there would be only one lane open in each direction until the early morning, when the last of the wreckage was towed away to be examined.
The camera crews were getting ready to leave by then. There was nothing left to see, and the Senator's wife had refused to comment on the other driver's death. The highway patrol had protected her from them very discreetly.
It was twelve-thirty when they finally took her home to her house on Clay Street in San Francisco. Her husband was in Washington, D.C., and she had gone to a party in Belvedere. Her children were asleep in bed, and the housekeeper opened the door to them and began to cry when she saw Mrs. Hutchinson's disheveled state and heard the story.
Laura Hutchinson thanked them profusely, insisted that she didn't need to go to the hospital, and would see her own doctor the next morning, if there was any need for it. And she made them promise that they would call her to tell her of the other young people's condition.
She already knew that the young driver was dead, but they hadn't yet told her that Allyson would probably not survive until morning. The highway patrolmen felt sorry for her, she was so distraught, so frightened, so desperately upset by what had happened. She had cried terribly when she saw Phillip's body covered with the drape and removed. She had three children of her own, and the thought of these young people dying in an accident was almost more than she could bear to think of.
The patrolman who brought her home suggested that she take a tranquilizer that night, to calm her nerves, if she had any in the house, or at least have a strong drink. She looked as though she needed it, and he was sure that the Senator wouldn't mind his suggestion.
“I haven't had a drink all night,” she said nervously. “I never drink when I go out without my husband,” she explained.
“I think it would do you good, ma'am. Would you like me to get you one now?”
She hesitated, but he could sense that she would, and he went to the bar and poured her a drink himself. A good strong drink of brandy. She made a terrible face as she drank it down, but she smiled at him once she did, and thanked him. They had been wonderful to her all night, and she assured them that the Senator would be very grateful to know how kind they had been to her.
“Not at all.” He thanked her and left, and went to rejoin his partner outside, who inquired if he had thought to take her in to the hospital for an alcohol check, so they could rule that out in their investigation.
“For chrissake, Tom. The woman is a senator's wife, she's a nervous wreck over the accident, she saw a kid die, and she told me herself she hadn't had a drink all night. That's good enough for me.” The other highway patrolman shrugged, his partner was probably right. She was a senator's wife, she wasn't going to hit the highway at eleven o'clock at night half crocked and hit a bunch of kids. No one could be that dumb, and she looked like a nice woman.
“I just poured her a brandy anyway, so it's too late now, if you wanted me to go back in and ask for it. The poor thing needed a stiff drink. I think it did her good.”
“Might do me good too.” The patrolman grinned. “Did you bring me one?”
“Shut up. Christ …run an alcohol check …” He laughed. “What else did you want me to do? Fingerprint her?”
“Sure. Why not. The Senator would have probably set us up for a commendation.” The two men laughed and drove off into the night. It had already
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