“My thoughts exactly,” she said, then added, “I’m sorry.”
“Yeah. Me, too.” Annoyed, upset, and antsy now, I stood and began to pace the small room while we talked.
So we still didn’t know who the garage-sale guy really was. Horatio would remain Horatio until further notice. I wallowed in that bad news for a moment, then remembered there was more. “What’s the good news?”
“It’s not exactly good, but it’s a move in the right direction. We want you to come in and meet with our sketch artist. Do you think you can give us an accurate description of the guy who attacked you?”
My spirits lifted slightly. “Absolutely.”
“Okay, good.”
We set up a time the following morning for me to meet the sketch artist at the Hall of Justice on Bryant Street, just a few blocks away from my place on Brannan. We ended the call shortly after that.
I sat down on the couch, excited at the prospect of contributing any information that might lead to the arrest of Vera’s killer. I just wished with all my heart that those two police officers had reached her in time yesterday. If they’d been able to talk to her, she would have given them all the information they would need to arrest Horatio. And she would still be alive today.
My shoulders slumped a little as that sad realization smacked me upside the head. It was true that I had barely known Vera, but I hated that she was dead simply because of bad luck and timing on the part of Officers Stern and Wilkins. The injustice was maddening.
Aiding the police sketch artist to create a picture of Horatio was important, but there had to be something else I could do to help.
A kernel of an idea sprouted in my brain. I jumped up from the couch and stalked around the room, the better to let the idea unfurl and grow. I’ve always thought better when I was moving.
The fact was, Horatio still didn’t have the book. And if he was desperate enough to kill Vera to try to get it, then he would have no choice but to come after me again.
I could be the bait to draw him into the open.
“Oh, sweet Mary.” I stopped midstep, picturing the smoke coming out of Derek’s ears if he ever found out what I was thinking of doing.
But this could work.
My hours at the television studio usually began around noon, so I had some time to kill every morning. Why not spend them trying to lure Horatio out of hiding?
What was wrong with taking the time to stroll around the studio parking lot in the morning? I could always use the exercise.
It might be a long shot to think that anyone would be dumb enough to skulk by the studio, looking for a chance to attack me again. But we were talking about Horatio, after all.
If he’d been desperate enough to kill once, wouldn’t he be willing to approach me again? Even if he knew that I could identify him as the man who had threatened Vera?
My plan could work, as long as Horatio was really, really stupid.
? ? ?
Two hours later I had finished my last segment and was back in my dressing room with Derek. We were packing up our computers and files for the night when my cell phone rang. I checked the screen; Inspector Lee was calling again.
“Inspector,” I said.
“I’ve got more news. It’s a little better this time.”
I sat on the swivel chair and grabbed a pen. “What’s up?”
“We’re not going to need you to meet with our sketch artist.”
“Why not?” I dropped the pen. “I can do it.” Darn it, I’d been looking forward to describing Horatio to the police artist, just like I’d seen people do on television.
“I know you can do it, Wainwright, but now you don’t need to. Stern and Wilkins are really pissed off about Vera. We all are. We’re pretty sure her death could’ve been avoided if they’d had a chance to talk to her and get the guy’s address.”
“Yeah, I was thinking that, too.”
“So now they’re working their asses off to find the guy. They went back to the TV studio to retrace your attacker’s movements and had a long talk with the security guard who got beat up.”
“They talked to Benny?”
“Yeah, Benny. So the day of the attack, Benny was too addled to think of it, but today he told them that there are security cameras everywhere. They’re on all the studio doors and at the entry gate.”
“Holy cow. That’s great.”
“Yeah,” Inspector Lee said. “So we got hold of the tapes and your guy is all over it. There’s video of him walking through the gate, grabbing you, punching Benny, running out. We’re putting a group of photos together and sending them out to all the news outlets. With any luck, we should have him ID’d by the weekend.”
“That’s wonderful,” I said, letting go of the breath I’d been holding. “I’m so relieved.”
“Yeah, we got a break.”
I rested my elbows on the desk surface and sighed in relief. “Thank you so much for calling to let me know.”