Page 111 of Random in Death

“I have another for him. One of the vic’s group noticed the trench. He said it looked out-of-the-box new.”

“Okay, that plays in. You never want a trench to look new. Makes you a wheeze.”

“Right. Yancy may be able to tease more out of him. I’ll arrange it. And the vic, when her doctor clears her for it. She got the best look at him.”

“The sweepers processed the door, and there are a crapload of prints on it. Fingerprints, handprints, partials, shoe scuffs from kicking at the base. But if he sealed up—”

“Why? You can hit a door like that with your hip, your ass, your shoulder. Unless you’re panicked and running, which he was. So maybe a mistake.”

She nodded her chin toward the spill of popcorn and fizzy in the center aisle. “That’s where he hit her. And that’s a mistake, too. Why not wait until they moved farther down? They had reserved seats. So they’d have walked six, seven more rows down. He’d have been closer to his escape route. Too eager,” she murmured. “Wired up on it, and maybe a booster with it. Couldn’t wait. Needed to feel it again.”

“He knocked into people when he ran. So far nobody he bumped or shoved could add anything solid. It was dark, it happened fast.”

“We only need one. Look, I’ll send Hurley in. He can help with the interviews. I want to check in with Baxter and Trueheart.”

“Theater three, they took half of mine in there.”

Eve moved on to three.

A smaller space, and a smaller group. With two detectives working, they’d processed more, released more.

She walked to Trueheart. “Excuse me. I need a minute, Detective.”

“Yes, sir. Just hang one minute,” he said to a group of five as he rose and stepped away with Eve.

“Sir, the victim?”

“Full recovery expected.”

A smile moved over his earnest, all-American face. “That’s good news. I may have more. This group here? The girl three in—Annabelle Joan Pierce, goes by A.J.—states she heard the screaming, started to turn around. She couldn’t really see what was going on because the aisle was still crowded. Then somebody plowed right into her, knocked her into her friend—the girl on her left. And dominoes. A.J. states she tried to catch her balance and ended up in the lap of a guy in the aisle seat.”

“Can she describe the one who plowed into her?”

“Darkish hair—she thinks brown, but can’t say light, medium. On the long side, at least in front. Falling over his face.”

“Shades?”

“No, sir.”

WTF eyes, Kiki had said. He’d taken them off when they got into the theater. House lights off.

“Wearing a trench—gray or tan, not black. Lighter. No facial hair. She thinks a short guy, small build. Short, Caucasian. I’m trying to get more, but I think if she could work with Yancy.”

“Yeah. He’s going to be busy. Where was she when she got knocked?”

“She said they were nearly to their seats. They were in row ten.”

Was it irony, Eve wondered, or some other thing when the best potential witness would have sat in the same row as the target?

“You’ve got a rapport going with this group?”

“Yes, sir, I think I do.”

“Then stick with it. I’ll line up Yancy.”

She walked down to the front and Baxter.

“Give me a minute, gang, my boss is here.” He added a grin that served as a wink. “We’re almost done.”