Everyone was a smart-ass today.
“Yeah, it went badly,” I said. “But it’s reached the point where I have to do something. I thought maybe you’d have some words of wisdom. God knows I could use a few.”
“Well, I think your instincts are well intentioned. Calling the police does seem like the right thing to do. But let me ask you a few questions first.” He sat forward in his chair. “First, how do you know Whirl360 doesn’t periodically review the street scenes it’s posted, and if the program finds something it overlooked before, it doesn’t make a change?”
That had not occurred to me. “I don’t know. If what you’re suggesting were the case, I still think it’s pretty amazing that the change got made within a couple of days of Thomas finding it, and my knocking on the door of that apartment.”
“You may be right. But, Ray, is it possible the image was never there in the first place?”
“Harry, Thomas didn’t imagine it. I saw it with my own eyes. I saw it the day Thomas found it.”
“What I’m asking you is, is it possible Thomas put it there?”
That stopped me. “What?”
“Could Thomas have fiddled with the image that you saw on his computer, to make it look like the woman in that window was being smothered?”
I didn’t have to give that much thought. “Thomas doesn’t have the skills or know-how to hack into Whirl360 and fiddle with the images.”
“Okay,” Harry said, nodding. “But what if he were able to change the image on just his own computer? I don’t know—manipulate it somehow and insert it. And then later, when you thought the image had been tampered with, it was actually back to the way it was before Thomas started messing about with it.”
I shook my head slowly. “I don’t…I don’t think so.”
“Did you ever see this image on any computer other than Thomas’s?”
That stopped me. “No.” I shook my head. “But the landlord did confirm that there used to be a couple of women living there, and that one of them was reported missing.”
“What else did the landlord tell you?”
“He didn’t tell me anything. It was Thomas who talked to him.”
Harry Peyton didn’t say anything.
“Oh, come on, Harry. Are you saying Thomas made up all that stuff from the landlord?”
“I didn’t say that, Ray,” he said. “But…”
“The name Thomas got from the landlord checked out, same as the one in the Times story.”
“Thomas doesn’t have access to the Times Web site? He couldn’t have already read it, before he gave you that name? Ray, I’m only asking you the questions the police are going to.”
I slumped in the chair. “No, no, that’s not possible. The thing is, I believe Thomas. Maybe that makes me a fool, but I don’t think he doctored any images. I believe he talked to the landlord. And, Harry, Julie did not make up what she found out from the Whirl360 people. Two people were murdered. People who are linked to this image on the Web site.”
“I hear you, Ray.”
“Yeah, but I get what you’re saying, too. Even if I tell the cops our suspicions, I’m probably not going to have much more luck than last time.”
Harry shrugged and eyed me with sympathy. “Look, I’m not saying you are, but what if you’re wrong about Thomas? What if—and please forgive me for this—but what if this thing he saw was something that was pointed out to him during one of his conversations with President Clinton?”
I ran my palm over my forehead. A major storm front of a headache was moving in. A migraine monsoon. “I appreciate your caution, Harry. But there’s something going on. There has to be a way to get this information to the cops. They need to hear the whole story before they dismiss it.”
Harry mulled that one over. “I have a friend. Barry Duckworth, a detective with the Promise Falls police. Maybe if I were to approach him, act as an intermediary. Barry knows and trusts me, so if, after I explain everything to him, he thinks there’s anything worth checking out, he can follow it up with you. Or he can call the NYPD. He’ll be able to get someone to listen to him.”
I liked it. Harry had credibility. He was a trusted member of the community. I might not get far trying to tell this tale to Duckworth, but Harry’d be able to get the whole thing out before Duckworth hung up on him, or threw him out the door. And Duckworth, in turn, would have credibility with another police department.
“Yeah,” I said. “Okay.” I suddenly nodded with enthusiasm. A heavy weight began to lift from my shoulders. “I appreciate this, Harry. I do.”
“No problem.”
I stood, but something was holding me there.
“Something else on your mind?” Harry asked.
“I don’t even know whether to mention it,” I said. “But maybe Dad said something to you about this sometime.”