Final Justice Part 33

"You're a cop?" Amal al Zaid asked, incredulously.

"I realize that dressed like this-I'm going to sort of a party with my wife. . . ." He paused, and then asked, "What did Mr. O'Hara tell you about me?"

"He said you just got out," Amal al Zaid said.

"Actually, sir," Tony Harris said. "The phrases Mr. O'Hara used were 'fifteen to twenty' and 'heavy hitter hood.' "

Washington came out with his badge and photo ID, and showed it to Amal al Zaid.

"Mr. O'Hara is an old friend," he said. "Despite a well-earned reputation for a really weird sense of humor."

"I'm weird?" O'Hara asked. "You're the first man in recorded history to walk into a Roy Rogers in a waiter suit." weird?" O'Hara asked. "You're the first man in recorded history to walk into a Roy Rogers in a waiter suit."

"It's not a waiter suit, you ignoramus."

"It looks like a waiter suit to me," Mickey said. "What about you-Double-A Zee?"

Amal al Zaid giggled and nodded his head in agreement.

"Are you going to take our order, or is there something else Double-A Zee and I can do for the cops?" Mickey asked.

Amal al Zaid giggled again.

"Do you mind if he calls you that?" Washington asked.

Amal al Zaid shook his head, "no."

"Can I call you that?"

"Sure."

"Thank you," Washington said. "Okay, Double-A Zee, let me tell you where we are in finding the people who murdered Mrs. Martinez and Officer Charlton." He paused.

Amal al Zaid looked at him expectantly.

"Just about nowhere," Washington said, finally.

"How come?" Amal al Zaid asked.

Washington shrugged.

"We've done-and are still doing-everything we can think of. We're going to get them eventually. But the sooner we do, the sooner we can get them off the streets, the sooner they won't be able to do the same sort of thing again. We don't want any more people to die."

Amal al Zaid nodded his understanding.

"An investigation is something like taking an automobile trip," Washington said. "You can make a wrong turn and wind up in Hoboken when you really want to be in Harrisburg. I'm beginning to suspect that we've made a wrong turn, early on, and this is what this is all about.

"What we have here, where this trip began, are the only two witnesses who seem to know what they're talking about; the only two who kept their cool in terrifying circ.u.mstances-"

"I was scared s.h.i.tless," Amal al Zaid corrected him.

"Make that two of us," O'Hara said.

Amal al Zaid looked at him with grat.i.tude.

"Who kept their cool in terrifying circ.u.mstances," Washington repeated, "the proof of which, Double-A Zee, is your behavior in this from the beginning. And Mr. O'Hara's attempt to take a photograph when they came out of the restaurant-"

"Attempt's the right word," Mickey said. "All I got is an artsy fartsy silhouette."

Washington ignored the comment.

"So what we're going to do now," he went on, "is start from the beginning, once again, to see where we took the wrong turn. We're going to do this very slowly, to see where what you saw agrees with what Mickey saw, or where it disagrees. Detective Harris"-he pointed to a huge salesman's case on the banquette seat beside Harris-"has brought with him records and reports that he and others have compiled that he thinks will be useful. We're going to see if what you and Mickey saw agrees or disagrees with what other people saw, or thought they saw, and if it disagrees, how it disagrees. You still with me, Double-A Zee?"

"Yeah, I got it."

"If either you or Mickey thinks of something-anything- or if you have a question while we're doing this, speak up. I'll do the same. Okay?"

O'Hara and Amal al Zaid nodded their understanding.

"Let's get some more coffee," Washington said, waving for the attention of the shift manager, who was hovering nearby to see what he could see, "and then Tony can begin."

Tony Harris took a sheaf of paper from the salesman's case, took off a paper clip, and divided it into four.

"This is the chronology as I understand it," he said, as he slid copies to Washington, O'Hara, and Amal al Zaid.

"We know for sure that Mrs. Martinez called 911 at eleven-twenty P.M. We have that from Police Radio. And we know that at eleven-twenty-one, Police Radio dispatched Officer Charlton. So I sort of guessed the time of the events before that."

He waited until the shift manager had delivered a tray with coffee.

"If I get any any of these details wrong, Double-A Zee, even if it doesn't seem important," Harris said, "speak up. Same for you, Mickey." of these details wrong, Double-A Zee, even if it doesn't seem important," Harris said, "speak up. Same for you, Mickey."

Both nodded again.

"Okay. Sequence of events," Harris said. "Double-A Zee was standing there"-he pointed-"mopping the floor, when he saw the doers come into the restaurant. How long had you been there, Double-A Zee, when they came in?"

"A couple of minutes."

"A couple is two. Maybe several?"

"I keep the mop bucket right inside the kitchen door," Amal al Zaid said. "What happened was when I cleaned the table-"

"This table?" Harris interrupted.

"Yeah. I see that the people who'd left had knocked a cup of coffee-what was left of one-on the floor. So I went in the kitchen, got the mop and bucket, and come back. It wasn't a big spill, but it was right in front of the kitchen door-"

"The one on the left?" Harris interrupted.

"Yeah. The Out one, they come through with full trays and they couldn't see the spill."

"I understand," Harris said.

"So I figured I better clean it up quick, and I did."

"And you'd been there a couple, like two, minutes and the doers came in?"

"Right."

"Why did you notice, Double-A Zee?" Washington asked.

"Excuse me?"

"You were mopping the floor, paying attention to doing that. Why did you notice these two?"

Amal al Zaid thought that over carefully before replying: "I looked at the clock over the door. They was standing under it."

"And why did you pay attention to them?" Washington asked, softly.

"I could tell they was bad news," Amal al Zaid said.

"How?"

"The way they was standing, looking around. Nervous, you know? And the . . . I dunno. I just didn't like the look of them."

"Okay. So then what happened?"

"Then they split up. The one stayed in front, and the short fat guy came toward the back, toward here. That was funny."

"You had finished mopping the spill by then?" Harris asked.

"Yeah. Right. So I pushed the bucket back into the kitchen. And then I looked through the window and saw . . ."

"The window in the right door, the In door?" Harris asked, pointing.

"Yeah," Amal al Zaid said. "And I saw him take off his shade-"

"His gla.s.ses?" Harris interrupted. "Double-A Zee, I don't remember you saying anything before about him wearing gla.s.ses."

"Not gla.s.ses, his shade shade."

When he saw the lack of understanding on Harris's face, Amal al Zaid explained patiently, almost tolerantly: "You know, like a baseball cap, without a top."

"Oh," Harris said, understanding.

"The shade part was in the back," Amal al Zaid went on. He pointed at his neck. "I guess it got in his way."

"How was that?" Washington asked, softly.

"The wall," Amal al Zaid said. "He was sitting where you are. That cushion is against the wall." He pointed. "I guess when he sat down, his shade b.u.mped into the wall. Anyway, he took it off."

"Okay," Harris said. "I'm a little dense. Then what happened?"

"Tony, would you hand me Mickey's pictures?" Washington asked.

"Any particular one?"

"Better let me have all of them."

"I thought," Amal al Zaid said, "the last time, you told told me he took only one picture of these guys." me he took only one picture of these guys."

"There was only one image, Double-A Zee," Washington explained. "But they made a number of different prints, trying to see if they could come up with something useful. You know, they blew up different parts of the picture."

"Oh, yeah," Amal al Zaid said.

"I tried that myself," O'Hara said, "and got nowhere."

"What are you looking for, Jason?" Harris asked.

"I want to see if this fellow left the scene wearing his shade," Washington said. "Maybe Mickey's pictures will at least show that."

Tony Harris rummaged through the salesman's case and came out with a manila envelope stuffed with prints. There were, in all, about twenty prints of the one digital image Mickey O'Hara had made as he walked up to the Roy Rogers restaurant. Most were eight by ten inches, and most of them concentrated on the heads and shoulders of the doers, although the process had failed to overcome the bad quality and bring out more details than in the original print.

Washington began to examine each print carefully. After looking at perhaps ten of them, he set one aside.

"You got something?" Mickey asked.

Washington didn't reply.

After a moment, Mickey took the pictures Washington was finished with and started looking at them. As he finished the first one, he slid it across the table to Amal al Zaid, who looked at it and slid it to Harris. When Washington finished, he had set two more prints aside. He slid the rest to Mickey, then patiently waited until they were all through, before handing Mickey the three prints he had set aside.

"So far as I can determine from these," Washington said, "neither of these gentlemen was wearing anything on his cranium as they left the scene."

"I don't think a jury would fall in love with these," Mickey said. "But I do see silhouetted heads, and there ain't nothing on either of them."

Washington again waited until both Amal al Zaid and Tony Harris had examined all three prints.

"So what?" Amal al Zaid asked.

"This poses the question, Double-A Zee," Washington said. "If this fellow came into the restaurant wearing a shade, where is it now?"

Harris went back into the salesman's case.

He came out with a typewritten list.

"Here it is," he said, "On the unclaimed property list. Number fifteen. 'One black sun visor, make unknown, gray cotton-covered visor, plastic headband.' They found it under the table. So far as prints are concerned. . . . 'One partially smudged print, possibly index finger, on rear of headband.' "

"That won't be enough, will it?" O'Hara asked.

"Oh, ye of little faith," Washington said.