CHAPTER 9

Pick wondered how a cop, of all people, could parade himself in self-inflicted Technicolor like this. And why did they let him carry a gun? Shouldn’t he be vacuuming rugs at some multiplex?

“Look at him again. Carefully,” said Gillespie, which was Officer Blue’s name. So far his partner with the cornstalk transplants had said not one word. She stepped back to the peephole to take another look at the lithe young man with a short ponytail sitting alone at a table in a small, spare room. He had fierce black eyes and his complexion was the shade of winter grass.

“He doesn’t look anything like him. I told you he was massive, round. Big, big muscles. A monster with a pushed-in face, and he wasn’t white.”

“Neither is this guy. Not entirely. You said he had a braid? Lookit that hair. He could braid it easy. Wait, don’t step away. Those tattoos you saw? They could have been temporary. What do they call them? Henna.”

“It’s not him.”

“What about we put a baseball cap on him?”

“I said no.”

“You were scared, confused. The mind plays tricks. You don’t want to make a mistake. Take your time.” Oddly, you could pretty much understand what he was saying even though Officer Blue barely moved his lips. An odd affectation. Maybe he was concealing bad teeth.

“I don’t need more time. It’s not him. If Sussman thinks it is, he’s wrong.” She stepped away from the window.

“So you think your pal ID’d him? What makes you think so?”

“Mr. Sussman and I are not pals.”

“Why do you think Mr. Sussman picked him out?”

“That’s not what I said.”

“Listen, I’m not that hard to get along with.”

“Where’ve you got Sussman?”

“He’s around. Don’t get silly on us, okay? We’re on your side.”

Here was a grown man who’d turned himself into a circus geek so he could escape a doomsday fantasy, and he was calling her silly. Well, maybe he deserved some credit for learning to live with his ludicrous hue. And he was sort of attractive if you went for the tall blue dumb insane types who talked like their lips were sewn together. The extraterrestrial freakishness of him was mildly enticing.

“You’re trying to pin something on the guy in there, aren’t you?”

Officer Blue/Gillespie shook his head and sighed, as though he were dealing with a child. Hard to tell what his partner was thinking. He must have been thinking something. Without excusing herself, Pick fished the cell phone from her purse and called Sussman. “Where are you?”

In the lobby, he told her.

“I’ll come find you,” she said. “If we’re gone, who knows? Maybe they’ll get to work and solve some crimes.”

“Don’t hold your breath,” he said.

She turned to the silent partner on her way out. “Nice talking to you.” Officer Blue followed her into the lobby. He flashed a smile. That was new.

“Feisty one, aren’t you?” At least she thought he said “feisty,” but it sounded almost like “tasty.” Either way, Officer Blue was coming on to her.

“That’s part of your job description? Describing witnesses to themselves?”

“I’m sorry if—I apologize for being short with you. We deal with so many, excuse my French, douche bags, we sometimes forget there are other kinds of people.” Again a closed-mouth smile. Age-wise he was only a little older than her brother, the one she’d made up. It would be like dating the Green Lantern or the Blue Hornet. Was there really a Blue Hornet or had she made that up too? She’d have to look it up.

“Look, I don’t want to frighten you, but this guy, whoever he was, he could . . . sometimes these guys, they come back.”

“I don’t live there,” she said. “Remember?”

“I remember. But that guy you just looked at? He’s dangerous, believe me. You should see his rap sheet. I don’t know what he’s doing around here, but he’s not here to do volunteer work.”

“So you’re going to get him first?”

“No, I’m going to be a good little cop and wait for him to commit a major crime. Too bad for his next victim, but that’s how it works.” He handed her a card. “Please don’t lose this one. If you remember something else, anything at all, call, okay? No matter how small it seems.”

“And if I don’t? Remember anything else?” She shifted her feet, pointing one in front of the other, like a catalog model.

He touched her lightly on the arm and kept his hand there, half hovering, half touching. The knuckles were bluer than the adjacent skin. “Absolutely. Call anyway,” he said. She’d already thought about the possibility of the knife person coming back to finish the job but was unsure whether a dead Sussman was good or bad for her. She couldn’t bear to look too closely into such matters, which is why, upon seeing the blade, she’d acted on instinct alone.

SHE FOUND Sussman inside the lobby, once again examining the hideous American eagle painting he’d stopped to investigate before they went off to find Officer Blue and his sidekick.

“Look,” he told her, pointing to a bottom corner where the years 1776 and 1976 were inscribed. “It was done for the bicentennial. You’re too young to remember the Ford Administration.” He shook his head slowly. “An innocent time. We just didn’t realize it.” After three years of doing his Buddhist crap he was still a pontificating prick.