Windsor said he felt up to it, so she asked him to take her back over his
version of the assault. His account from the crime scene held, and when she moved on
to inquire about any unusual contacts, activity, or new people in his life, the
locksmith reflected then shook no.
Next she showed him a picture of the key she had found with the last victim. He
recognized it immediately. “That’s a BiLock. Aussie. Very high-security product.
They manufacture rim locks, cam locks, deadlocks, mortise locks, padlocks…” As he
went on and on, Rook caught Nikki’s eye and turned slightly away to hide his smile.
He had often entertained Heat imitating Bubba Blue, reciting to Forrest Gump all the
ways to cook shrimp.
When Windsor finished his list, she said, “BiLock told us this is registered to
your business.”
“That’s right, I sell them. Not many yet but it’s a good product.”
“What I mean, Mr. Windsor, is that this exact key is registered to your inventory.
Did you notice it was missing, and if so, is the lock gone, as well?”
He studied the picture and said, “I didn’t know anything was missing.” He stood
up, suddenly worried about his shop. “I’d like to get back and do an inventory.”
“We’ll do that and send a detective to help. But I have a few quick things to ask.
”
He calmed, but she could sense his understandable distraction, so she hurried. What
she needed to find out was if he had any connection to the other victims, however
slight. She showed him head shots of the three prior victims. Roy Conklin meant
nothing; same for Maxine Berkowitz, whom he only recognized as a reporter on TV. But
when she flashed the picture of Douglas Sandmann, Windsor’s eyes popped and he
tapped it with his forefinger. “Hey, I know him. Bedbug Doug.”
“From his TV ads?” asked Heat.
“Yeah. But I also did some work for him. About six months ago I upgraded all the
locks and alarm keypads at his office over in Queens.”
Heat and Rook traded glances, each registering a sudden rush of excitement at the
break. Nikki tried to remain casual, masking her hope that the victim she saved
could shed light on how an active serial killer was choosing his targets. “Glen,
did you spend any time personally with Mr. Sandmann?”
“Most definitely. Doug approved the bid and cut the check when I finished.”
“May I ask what you talked about?”
“Prices and my time frame. Pretty much what every prospect talks about.”
“Anything else? Take a moment to think.”
The locksmith took a sip of his juice and stared into the middle distance, then
said, “No, sorry. I pretty much just walked him through the job. Nothing memorable.
Nice guy, though. Let me pet his dog.”
Rook chimed in. “Did you and Bedbug Doug have any friends in common?”
“No, sir.”
“Did anyone arrange the job for you?” asked Heat, following Rook’s thread.
“Maybe a referral from another customer?”
“I wish. Got that account the usual way. Just me making cold calls. Opening the
Yellow Pages and smiling ’n’ dialing.”
With Nikki’s breakthrough hopes dimming, she asked him to keep thinking during the
next few days. Heat gave him her business card so he could reach her if any detail,
however insignificant, came to him.
Detective Feller called to alert her that he was in an undercover taxi he’d
borrowed from his old NYPD unit and was standing by at the hospital’s side door.
The first thing Heat had done when she saw the media setting up was to arrange a
discreet exit for Glen Windsor. But before she and Rook could sneak him out of the
ER, Nikki got an unwelcome surprise.