Chapter 3-2
1039 Words
They finished, and were debating desserts and whether to have them, when Michael saw Reid look past him at someone behind him—he presumed. Michael started to turn his head to see who had caught Reid’s attention when a man stopped next to the table.
“I don’t know if you remember me,” the man said to Michael. “I came by your shop, maybe two months ago.”
“I can’t say that I do. Sorry.” If there was one thing Michael had learned in prison, it was to keep his feelings from showing. He did recognize the man, and it had nothing to do with the shop. He schooled his expression to show only casual interest in the man’s words. “Maybe if you tell me what kind of costume you were looking for, it would refresh my memory.”
“I was only browsing.” The man shrugged. “I didn’t mean to bother you while you were having dinner. It’s just…When I saw you here…”
“You’re trying to decide if I was the guy from the shop.” Michael pasted on a smile. “I’ve had that happen to me more than once. That ‘where do I know them from’ thing. As I said, I don’t recognize you. But then I don’t have a good memory for faces. Maybe if you tell me your name it would ring a bell.”
“I didn’t actually talk to anyone when I was there. Sorry to have bothered you.”
Michael watched as the man walked away—and left the restaurant a moment later. “Okay,” he said, frowning. “That was strange.”
Reid smiled. “Maybe he’s after your hot body and that was his excuse to get to meet you.”
Ignoring the hot body comment, Michael replied. “No. He was trying to find out if I remembered him from the night before Ms. Lee was murdered.”
“That was him? The one you told me and the cops about?”
Michael nodded. “I’m dead certain it is. The hair. The eyebrows. Yeah. It’s him. How the hell did he find me here?”
“No clue. Maybe he followed you from your building? Maybe he saw you as he walked by?” Reid gestured to the wide picture window a few feet away.
“I sure as hell hope that’s it. I don’t like the idea he might be shadowing me.”
“I sort of doubt he was. If he had been, he’d have approached you somewhere less public.” Reid looked at Michael, c*****g his head. “From watching you, I’d have thought he was a complete stranger.”
“I learned not to let anyone know what I’m thinking until I’m sure it’s safe.”
“Makes sense.”
Michael was pretty certain that Reid knew why and was politely avoiding saying anything.
“We should probably get in touch with Detective Daniels to let him know what happened,” Reid said. “We both got a good look at the guy, so we can describe him better than you probably did when you were telling Daniels about him. Hell, maybe he’ll put us with a sketch artist.”
“I suppose we should,” Michael replied reluctantly. “But not tonight.” He drummed a tattoo with his fingers on the table. “He has to have had something to do with the murder, if he’s afraid I might remember him.”
“I think that’s a given. Now all we have to do is find out who he is.”
Michael shook his head. “That’s Daniels’ job, not ours.” He chuckled, adding, “Oh, intrepid reporter.”
“I resemble that remark, and I won’t deny it. You’re right, though. We’ll leave it up to him, which means giving him a call in the morning to set up an appointment to tell him. Until then, do you still want dessert?”
“Not really.” Michael frowned. “That guy, whoever he is, was taking a chance, talking to me. What if I had said I recognized him, and from where? What then?”
“Then you’d be next on his list.” When Michael’s frown deepened, Reid rescinded that. “Not really, I’m sure. But he’d have been real careful to play keep away from the building, which he undoubtedly has been anyway. And from anywhere else he thought you might go. Or leave town. When it comes down to it, I’m surprised he hasn’t—if he’s the person who killed her.”
“If he is, he’s not terribly bright. I don’t care what you say; his coming in here was beyond stupid, even if I hadn’t recognized him. Seeing him could have triggered my memory, causing me to remember later where I’d seen him.”
“Like you said, he’s obviously not the brightest bulb in the pack. I think you convinced him you’ve got no clue who he is.”
“I hope. Still, I’m going to be real careful on my way home, just in case.”
“I’ll go with you,” Reid told him.
Michael lifted an eyebrow. “I think I can handle him, if he tries to waylay me in the hallway, or whatever.”
“Probably. But why take a chance. Think of it this way. Ms. Lee was a call girl. That implies she was working for someone. Right? Suppose for the sake of argument, the man who was just here was her handler, pimp, or whatever you want to call it.”
“I’m not sure I’ll buy that. If she was high every Saturday night…Well, why would he do that to her?”
“To keep her in line. He’d got her hooked on something, and if she’s a good girl, she gets a fix.”
“Only on Saturdays? Wouldn’t that be the one night when he’d want her straight so she could service her johns?”
“You’re asking me?”
Michael smiled. “Well, it is your theory. I’m leaning more toward his being a john who doesn’t want anyone to know that he was hiring her. He got unlucky that night, because I opened my door to read her the riot act and saw him.”
“That works, too. Maybe better than my idea.” Reid nodded slowly. “He’s someone who can’t let it be known he’s one of her johns because…Hell, maybe he’s one of those law-and-order guys who are cracking down on prostitution. Or a priest. Or he’s got a rich wife who’d divorce him if she even thought he was doing the dirty with someone else.”
“A lot of maybes, but, yeah, possible.”
“So he wouldn’t be at all happy if he thought you could finger him. He might have believed you when you said you didn’t recognize him. But he’d still be paranoid enough that he’d want to make certain you weren’t lying.”
“And how can he do that?”
“Keep an eye on you, especially now, to be sure you don’t go running straight to the cops.”
Michael puffed out a breath. “That sort of puts the kibosh on my talking to Daniels tomorrow morning.”
“Yeah. But I can.”
“Uh-uh. The guy saw you with me. For all he knows—if he didn’t believe me—I told you who he is and where I saw him.”
“Good point.” Pensively, Reid rapped a thumbnail against his teeth, then shook his head. “I hate to say it, but he has to have been following you. He knew about the shop.”
“Damn. You’re right. Since he does, why wait until now to pull his ‘do you remember me’ thing?”
Reid chuckled as he flagged down their waiter. “Ask him, the next time you see him.”
Michael rolled his eyes. “Hopefully, that will be never.”
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