Starbucks’s fingers worked his keyboard, and the image on the screen became more of a man, less of a blur. ‘Starbucks,’ said McCabe, ‘keep a record of exactly what you’re doing to enhance this image. If the tape’s ever going to be admissible in court, you’re going to have to be able to repeat and verify every single thing you do.’
‘No problem, Sergeant. I’m keeping notes, and I’m recording each step on a nonerasable CD. Repeatable and verifiable. How much it will tell us about the bad guy is less certain.’ Both McCabe and Starbucks knew that even if the tape led them to the killer, by itself it wouldn’t be sufficient to positively identify the guy or prove he did it. They’d need more.
The young Somali zoomed in, isolating the portion of the frame where the man-blob could be seen in direct relation to the car. ‘Since we know the height of the car and the height of the fence, we can see the man is quite tall. By simple triangulation I estimate his height at six foot one or, at most, six two.’
‘Anything else?’
‘His face is mostly turned away, and the source material is of poor quality. However, he has broad shoulders, appears to be Caucasian, and is wearing a baseball cap. Even from this angle we can see he has quite a long face. Maybe a big nose, but that’s less certain.’
‘A tall, thin-faced white doctor in a cap. Well, that narrows things down some,’ said Tasco.
McCabe watched as Starbucks played with the keys again. He advanced the image to the scene where the man-blob lifted the tailgate and unloaded his cargo. Starbucks advanced the scene again and stopped it. Now the tall white doctor was carefully carrying his trophy in his outstretched arms into the scrap yard. A groom carrying his bride over the threshold. In the middle of a busy city. The guy was clearly a risk-taker. Maybe that was part of the thrill.
Starbucks moved the scene forward and back a number of times, finally stopping on the frame that provided the best view of the bundle. It seemed to be wrapped in a light-colored fabric. Starbucks zoomed in on the image. ‘Well, from the shape it certainly could be Katie,’ said McCabe. ‘Or maybe just a bundle of trash from some guy too lazy to go out to Riverside.’
‘Strange shape for trash,’ said Tasco. ‘Besides, Jacobi’s team didn’t find anything else out there remotely similar.’
‘Just Katie.’
‘Yeah, just Katie.’
They ran through the portions of the tape where the car was parked. Two other cars drove by during the eleven minutes, but there was nothing else that seemed revealing. ‘Let’s put out some publicity on this,’ said McCabe. ‘See if we can find one or both of the drive-bys. Maybe they’ll remember something useful about the parked car.’
‘I’ll continue working with this,’ said Starbucks. ‘By altering the individual pixels I think I can improve resolution. Give us a better idea of what the guy looks like. What he was wearing. However, as I said, the quality of the source material is poor.’
McCabe checked his watch. Almost time for Shockley’s press conference. ‘Okay. I’ll check in with you guys later. Right now I’ve got to attend a command performance for the GO.’ ‘The GO’ was the squad’s nickname for Chief Shockley, a.k.a. ‘the Great One.’
7
Saturday. 11:00 A.M.
The press conference began on schedule on the broad granite steps of Portland’s hundred-year-old beaux arts City Hall. The event was, as McCabe expected, perfectly stage-managed. Camera crews and reporters from the local network affiliates plus reporters from all of Maine’s major daily papers stood in a crowd at the bottom of the stairs, looking up at Shockley. Among them McCabe saw a face he recognized as a stringer for one of the New York tabloids. There were probably others.
The mayor and several city council members flanked Chief Shockley. Close to a hundred of the merely curious were also in attendance. Shockley wore full-dress blues for the occasion. McCabe and Maggie Savage positioned themselves behind him and slightly to his right. At least, McCabe mused, there were no musicians on hand to start things off with a rousing chorus of ‘Hail to the Chief.’ Probably only because Shockley hadn’t thought of it.
‘As most of you know, a brutal murder was committed in our city within the last forty-eight hours.’ As Shockley began to speak, McCabe’s eyes scanned the crowd. The one real benefit of this sort of circus was that it might just draw ‘a person of interest.’ One by one he began recording the faces in his memory. He wouldn’t forget them.