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.“Because there’s blood everywhere, but no paw prints, and if a dog was hungry or desperate enough to attack a man, wouldn’t it have done more than rip his throat out?”I swallowed a squeak.Ripped-out throats were a new exciting kind of violent death for me, and I was torn between terrible urges.One: run home and hide under the bed.Two, and much stronger: run outside and see if Billy had found a ghost to talk to.I pushed my chair back, preparing to do that, but Monroe fixed me in place with a glare worthy of the Mighty Morrison, and turned his next question on Rita: “Can you describe what you saw when you approached?”She put her face into her hands and sighed, words muffled behind her palms.“The sun was just coming up, not high enough to be daylight yet, just lightening.There wasn’t anybody else around right then.That’s unusual.There are usually joggers out that early.” She lifted her head to show lines drawing deeper around her eyes and mouth.“Do you think one of them saw something and decided not to get involved? I can tell you what some of the regular ones look like.Homeless people see more than you think.”Monroe actually looked pleased.“That would be very helpful.I’ll get our sketch artist to come talk to you.Go on.”“I don’t sleep a lot, so I was up early to go help the kitchen get started.Saturdays are busy.I saw him at the corner, just lying on the sidewalk facing the wall.I thought he’d fallen asleep there, and that he was lucky it was one of us and not a cop who’d seen him first, so I went to wake him up.When I got closer I saw the sidewalk was wet around him, but it hadn’t rained, nothing else was wet.It just looked dark, not red, until I got closer.And then I saw, and I rolled him over, and he was dead.He looked terrified.Death isn’t supposed to come on you like that.You’re supposed to be able to just close your eyes and slip away.” She sounded like she wanted to believe it and knew better.She should have known better: she’d almost died violently not so very long ago.“What else?” Monroe wasn’t pushy, but he wasn’t going to let her be distracted, either.I’d been in that position myself, finding ways to draw details out of a witness happier to dwell on something else.Rita folded her hands around her coffee cup again.“He was already cold.The blood was thick on the sidewalk.I tried not to step in it.I didn’t try to take his pulse or anything.I just ran for the pay phone.I left bloody footprints and that’s what made me think of the paw prints.That’s why I said it was a murder.And that’s why I asked for you, Detective Walker.I thought you’d believe me.”I was not about to screw up somebody else’s murder investigation by assuring Rita that I did believe her, even though I did.“I’m glad to be able to help, Rita.Look, I need to go talk to my partner, if that’s all right with you two.”“Not a problem.” Monroe stood up and gave Rita an acceptably genuine smile.“Thanks for your help, Ms.Wagner.If you want to stay here another few minutes I’ll get you another cup of coffee and send an artist to talk to you about the regular Saturday morning joggers.”Rita looked into her cup and shook her head.“I’m okay.”“All right.Sit tight, I’ll get the artist in here right away.” Monroe left.I, who’d instigated the little party’s breakup, went and got myself and Billy giant cups of coffee, and got Rita one and a pastry, too, despite her refusal.And, despite that refusal, she took both.I sat down again, curiosity prodding me to ask, “Is our relationship the only reason you asked for me?”She gave me a funny smile.“Relationship?”I made a face, feeling silly.“Cop talk.It’s one of those words that carries a lot of weight in civilian terms but is easier than finding more delicate ones on the force.Acquaintance, if you like.”“I thought you’d believe me,” she repeated, then made a long, silent observation of her pastry before finally adding, “and I think it’ll take a miracle to find Lynn’s murderer.You’re the miracle that saved me.”A sad soft place opened up in my heart.“Why do you think it’ll take a miracle?”“Because he’s nobody, Detective.He’s just like me.I’m sure that other detective will make some effort.But we’re just a bunch of vagrants.Someone with money or family will get killed soon and nobody will care very much that Lynn’s case goes cold.Except maybe you.You cared enough to save me.”This was not the right time to protest saving her had been a complete accident.It wasn’t the right time to protest much of everything, except a gentle, “This isn’t my jurisdiction, Rita.I’m not supposed to work cases downtown.”“Will that stop you?”The woman had my number.A sigh, resoundingly heartfelt, escaped me.“Probably not.Look, I’ll ask Detective Monroe to keep me in the loop on the case, okay? Because you’re right.If this doesn’t get cleared up really fast, it probably won’t at all.That’s how murders are anyway, but the circumstances here aren’t favorable.If it slips off Monroe’s radar, I promise I’ll pick it up.Okay?”She smiled and the soft place in my heart took an arrow through it.It was easy to look through people, especially street people, to pretend they didn’t exist at all.But confronted with Rita Wagner’s youthful smile, I couldn’t do that.I didn’t even want to.Somebody had granted me a phenomenal cosmic power set.In my good moments I thought I could save Seattle, maybe even the world.In the more realistic ones, what mattered, what really mattered, was that I could just maybe save one person.Nobody could save every one, but I could help individuals, and that, when I got right down to it, was a hell of a thing.“I can find you at the soup kitchen if I need you?”“If I’m not there someone can find me.”“All right.” I stood up again, collecting Billy’s coffee as Monroe escorted the sketch artist in.“Take care of yourself, Rita.”“You too, Detective.”I left the coffee shop feeling like I’d made the world a slightly better place.CHAPTER TWELVEThe feeling lasted all the way back to the crime scene.Billy accepted his coffee with a grimace instead of a thanks, which didn’t bode well.I barely got a look at the body before he herded me across the street, where we had a semblance of privacy.“Not much to tell,” he informed me grimly.“The victim’s name is Lynn Schumacher, but that’s just about all he remembers [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]