“I’ll take it from here,” Neal said, giving Crawford a look that would drive nails. “We appreciate your coming forward, Mr. Otterman. However, this department prides itself on how quickly it responded to the emergency, implementing an evacuation plan we’d rehearsed. It would be helpful to know how you managed to escape our security.”
“I didn’t. I was herded out like everybody else.”
“Under police guard?”
“That’s right. They were hustling everybody along. People were nervous, afraid. The officers were trying to keep panic to a minimum. We were told they were taking us to an area of safety where we would be ‘sheltered’ until the gunman was apprehended.” He shrugged. “I didn’t have time to be sheltered. Once we got clear of the courthouse, I went my own way.”
“You just walked off?” Nugent asked.
“No. An officer stopped me. He ordered me to stay with the group. But when I told him who I was, he let me go.”
Crawford asked, “What was his name?”
“I have no idea. He didn’t tell me, and I didn’t ask.”
“Because you were in such a big hairy hurry to get away from there minutes after a fatal shooting had occurred.”
Otterman’s hand closed tightly around the coin and his left eye squinted fractionally more than the right one. “I don’t care for your accusatory tone.”
“Neither do I,” Neal said.
Crawford forced himself to smile. “No accusation, Mr. Otterman. It’s just that officers wear name tags.”
“I didn’t notice his name tag.”
“Can you describe him? Ethnicity? Short, tall?”
“Youngish. Average height. Caucasian. He was in uniform.”
“PD or deputy sheriff?”
“Policemen wear blue?”
Crawford bobbed his head.
“Then he was a policeman, but I can’t be more specific than that. I’m sorry.”
“What floor were you on when the shooting took place?”
“Crawford.”
Otterman raised his hand to stave off Neal’s attempt to intercede. “It’s all right, Sergeant Lester.” To Crawford, he said, “I was on the third floor, where the district attorney’s offices are located. By the way, the assistant DA I met with was Alicia Owens.”
He pocketed the coin as he stood. “I think that about covers it.” He smiled at Nugent. “I’m glad I could clear up that discrepancy in the head count.” Then to Neal, “I hope you catch the suspect soon.”
Neal came to his feet. Nugent followed his example. Crawford remained with his behind propped on the corner of the neighboring desk.
Neal said, “Thank you for coming forward, Mr. Otterman,” and reached across his desk to shake hands.
Otterman nodded and turned toward the door.
Crawford said, “I’d like you to take a look at Rodriguez.”
“What?”
“Why?”
Otterman and Neal had spoken at the same time, but Crawford ignored the detective and replied to Otterman. “We haven’t confirmed his identity. We don’t know what he was doing in the courthouse on Monday and—”
“Now you never will.”
The remark was meant to be snide, and, although Crawford knew it was aimed at him, he let it bounce off. “If you took a look at him, maybe you would remember seeing him in the courthouse. It could be the clue we need to tie up those loose ends.” When Otterman failed to respond immediately, he added, “Just a thought. Since you’re so into civic duty, and all.”
He had intentionally created a dilemma for the man. If Otterman agreed, it would be a concession to their authority, and Crawford felt that he didn’t like conceding authority to anyone. If he declined, he would have two strikes against him, because, in spite of Neal’s bowing and scraping, much could be made of the fact that Otterman had left the scene of a capital crime.
“Of course, I’ll take a look,” he said genially. “Unfortunately, it will have to wait until tomorrow. I have a meeting at three thirty this afternoon. A group is flying in from Odessa.”
Neal jumped on that. “Tomorrow is soon enough, Mr. Otterman. What would be a convenient time?”
“Nine o’clock.”
“I promise not to keep you any longer than absolutely necessary. Thank you for coming in today. Nugent will walk you out.”
Nugent was twitchier than usual as the two made their way to the door. As soon as they had cleared it, Neal launched into Crawford. “What is the matter with you? Are you determined to self-destruct and take me with you? You just pissed off the man in charge of the largest economic boom this area has seen in generations.”
“What’s the matter with you?” Crawford fired back. “You’re a cop. Or you’re supposed to be. You can’t back down from someone because you’re afraid of rubbing him the wrong way. If he’d have been anybody else, you probably would have arrested him for obstruction.”
“But he’s not anybody else. You honestly think he’s a suspect? Let’s forget for the moment that he’s got the wrong hair color and a different body type. Does he come across as a man who would dress up like Halloween? Really?” By the time he got to the last word, his voice was practically a screech. “Asking him to look at Rodriguez? What’s that about except a waste of everyone’s time?”
“We don’t know that.”