The Counterfeit Murder in the Museum of Man_ A Norman De Ratour Mystery - Alfred Alcorn [69]
“It’s a Seeing Eye dog,” I repeated. “They’re used to help …”
“I know that. But they let it in the restaurant.”
“Of course. Public access and all that.”
He turned and signed something to Ridley in the back that I didn’t get. Then he slid down into his seat and put on his seat belt. I could tell that he was, to use his expression, “biting mad.”
13
Hank from Security stood in the doorway to my office with an expression that looked like good news.
“I think I found it, Chief,” he said coming in. But I noticed he carried nothing in his hands. Of course not. He came around the desk to lean over my laptop. With a few strokes, the familiar scene from the Diorama of Paleolithic Life appeared.
Then there she is, the alluring Stella Fox in clear, full focus walking toward the camera. She appears deep in conversation with a young man of cropped hair and brutal good looks, a villain right out of Central Casting.
The couple pause. The man gesticulates, his lips moving emphatically. After about a minute they walk out of that camera’s range. Another, more distant camera picks them up. But again, there are clear shots of both of their faces.
I thought, watching with increasing excitement, that a forensic lip-reader should be able to decipher what they were saying.
Then, in what seems a cameo appearance, my own tall figure appears. I am in full stride and preoccupied, but not so much as to resist the temptation to give Ms. Fox an appreciative once-over.
Another camera picks them up as they leave the area, but it is a back view.
“Are the date and time … reliable?” I asked Hank.
“Stand up in court. It’s hard to disprove when you’ve got all the stuff before and after. You could also testify that you walked through the area at that time and saw her. I mean you’ve got proof of that.”
“Great work, Hank. Excellent. Could you make a couple of copies on disks?”
“Sure.” He took several blanks from Doreen and made duplicates of the sequence for me.
As he worked, I said, “Remember, this has to stay strictly confidential.”
He nodded. “I understand.” He pointed to my screen and a little red icon. “It’s right here, on your desktop. It’s under the same name on the disks, but you can call them anything you want.”
I noticed his bloodshot eyes. “How much time did you put in on this?”
He laughed. “Lots. I accessed it from home. My wife thought I was nuts. I don’t want to look at television for a while.”
I stood up and gestured him to follow me out to Doreen’s desk. “Doreen, would you kindly get a requisition slip for five hundred dollars made out to Hank? On second thought, it’s not a museum expense.” I went back to my desk, wrote out and gave him a personal check for a thousand dollars, and thanked him again.
I sat down to contemplate what to do with what I had. Send it on to Jason Duff? Send a copy as well to Channel Five? Would that be tampering with evidence? But I had found it. It was my evidence.
I was pondering all this when Doreen announced that Lieutenant Tracy had arrived, was on the line.
“Yes?” I said.
“I’m downstairs. I need to talk to you.”
“About what?”
“The von Grümh case.”
“All right.”
He came in alone, not quite hat in hand, but with a little less of his usual self-possession.
I remained seated behind my desk. I did not offer to shake hands. I said, “What can I do for you?”
He took the chair to the left and produced a copy of the letter regarding Colin Saunders that I had forwarded to the district attorney’s office. “Duff turned this over to us.”
I regarded him steadily. “Okay?”
“I would like to get some background on Saunders.”
“I see. I’m sure they would be able to help you over at the university news office. He works at Wainscott.”
“Norman …”
“I’m sorry, Lieutenant, but I do not like having my communications ignored. I am already enough of a nonperson