It took her only ten minutes to drive over from the Hall of Justice, where she worked in the Personal Crimes Division, which included Homicide. I poured her a cup of coffee and we sat at the dining room table. She handed me the cards one by one. Each five-by-eight-inch card showed mug shots of six different men. It was odd to see the faces of so many men who’d gone through the prison system. Most of them looked either wasted or angry or dazed, and I realized that getting a picture taken for a mug shot was not anyone’s best moment.
A shiver scuttled up my spine the moment I saw the mug shot of Horatio. He looked half-asleep, but his eyes still managed to convey malice and his lip was curled in a mean snarl. I tapped his picture, then dropped the card on the table. “That’s him.”
“You sure?” Inspector Lee held up all the cards I hadn’t seen yet.
“I’m absolutely positive, but if it helps strengthen the case against him, I’ll look at a few more cards before pointing to the same guy.”
“Not necessary. You’ve already looked at a couple dozen, at least. But I want you to be sure. Look at him again. Is that the man who attacked you in the Peapod Studio parking lot?”
“Yes.”
“Would you say you’re one hundred percent sure that’s him? Or eight percent? Sixty percent?”
“One hundred percent sure that’s the guy.”
She wrote out a short statement on a printed sheet that included the time and date of the attack, checked a few boxes, and had me sign it.
“Is that it?” I asked. “Are we finished?”
“For now.” Pushing her chair away from the dining room table, she stood and gathered her cards and papers. “The district attorney might want you to come in for an in-person lineup. It depends on the lawyers.”
I stood, too. “I’ll do whatever you need me to do—just let me know. I want this guy behind bars.”
“You and me both. Problem is, he won’t stay in jail for long on a mere assault charge. And except for your statement that he threatened to kill you and Vera, we don’t have anything substantial tying him to Vera’s murder. It’s all circumstantial at this point.”
“What about fingerprints? Or witnesses.”
“There were no prints on the murder weapon.” She seemed to realize what she’d said and scowled. “If I hear that repeated on the evening news, I’ll come after you with a pipe wrench.”
“Ouch.” I pretended to clutch my chest in pain. “After all this time, I should think you would trust me a little more.”
“I do, actually.” She huffed out a breath. “Sorry. Just, you know, keep it to yourself.”
“I will.” I walked with her down the short hall, into my workshop, and over to the front door. “I wouldn’t dream of doing anything that could jeopardize this case. I want him to go to prison forever.”
“If he killed Vera Stoddard, we’ll make sure he gets what he deserves.”
“Good.” I opened the door for her. “Let me know if you need me to identify him in a lineup. That would be so cool.”
“You’re a twisted woman, Wainwright.”
“I know,” I said, smiling. “It’s part of my charm.”
“Yeah, charm. Or something.”
? ? ?
Two hours later, Inspector Lee called. “The district attorney met with our suspect’s lawyer. They’re demanding a police lineup and they’d like to do it tomorrow morning.”
“That was fast.”
“Can you make it?”
“Absolutely.”
She gave me the time and place and we ended the call. I wanted to jump up and do a happy dance, but I restrained myself. After all, there was nothing happy about Vera being dead. And I was the one who would be fingering her killer.
“Fingering,” I muttered. When had I started to talk like a Mob boss?
? ? ?
I stared at the one-way glass window. “Can they see me?”
“No, they can’t see you,” Inspector Lee muttered.
I was pretty sure every last person who had ever gone through this procedure had asked the very same question.
Besides Inspector Lee and me, there were two men in a small viewing room. Both wore suits and I guessed they were attorneys. I wasn’t introduced to either of them. I figured nobody wanted to get too chummy with me, seeing as how I was there to finger the perp, as they said. Good grief, more fingering.
Lee spoke into a small intercom speaker. “Send in number one, please.”
I watched through the glass as a uniformed officer opened the side door of the room. A large man walked slowly halfway across the space. He was told to stop there and look straight ahead. He stared right at me, although Inspector Lee insisted again that he couldn’t see me.
Nobody else walked in with him.
I frowned. “Where are the others?”
“We don’t do it with a group anymore,” Lee explained. “We do what’s called a sequential lineup. It’s supposed to be better for you, the witness, so you’re not comparing the suspects to one another. Instead, you’re judging them each individually against your own memory of the person you saw. It lowers the chance of a false positive.”
“I’m not sure I understand.”
She thought about it for a few seconds. “Okay, you’ve described your attacker as a large man. So if we lined up four skinny guys and one great big guy, you might identify that one larger man as the perpetrator, even though he’s innocent. All you’re seeing is one large man out of five or six, so you’re assuming he’s the guy.”