chapter 38

The next morning, Detective Jude left a massage for us to meet him in sharp's office at the Hall Of Fame.

Something had comeback on the film.

In a sparsely decorated conference room, the museum's security chief, Jude, and several members of the CPD Homicide staff sat facing a wide-screen video monitor on a walnut cabinet.

"At first," sharp began self-importantly, " we were just randomly going through the tape with members of the families, stopping on anyone who didn't look familiar. Your sketch," he turned to me, "helped narrow it down."

He flicked a handheld controller toward the screen, the gist clip you are going to see are the main entrance," the screen lit up, standard black-and-white surveillance footage. It was so wired and strange. Several gaudily dresses guests seemed to be arriving at once. Many of them outfitted a famous rockers. One was Elton John. His date has teased hair dyed in various light and dark shade. Cubs I maulers-style. I recognized a chuck Berry, a Micheal Jackson, a couple of Madonnas, Elvis, Elvis Costellos.

Sharp forwarded, the film advancing like individual, edited stills. An older couple arrived dressed in traditional evening wear. Behind them almost tucked into their backs, came a man who was clearly shying from the camera. Averting his face.

"There!" Sharp said.

I saw him! My heart pumped madly in my chest. Goddamn Red Beard!

It was a horrible, grainy likeness. The man, sensing the direction of the camera, quickly hurried by. Maybe he had come there earlier, scouting for security cameras, maybe he was just smart enough to avoid a direct shot. Whatever it was, he sneaked I to the crowd and disappeared.

A ball of anger knitted in my chest. "Can you back up, home in? I said to sharp. " I need to see his face," He leveled his remote and the image channeled into a higher magnification.

I stood up. I was staring at a partially obscured shot of the killer's face.

No eye, no clear features. Only a shadowy profile. A jutting chin. And the outline of a goatee.

There was no doubt in my mind that this was the killer. I didn't know his name. I could barely see his face, but the fuzzy image I had first sketched together in my mind with Fatimah was now in front of me. "Is that the best you can do?" Gebriel presses.

A member of the museum tech staff replied, "might be able to get it technologically enhanced. On this rough footage, this is what we have."

"We picked him up again later on," Sharp said.

He quickly fast-forwarded and stopped at a wide angle view of the Main-Hall, the wedding reception, they were able to zoom in on the same tuxedoed man standing at the edge of the crowd, observing. When the image was magnified, though, it became grainy and lost its resolution.

"He's purposely avoiding looking at the camera," I whispered to Gebriel. "He knows where they are.

"We ran these shots by both families," Sharp said, No one placed him. No one can identify who he is. I mean, there's a chance it's not him. But considering your sketch. . ."

It's him," I said firmly. My eyes burned on the grainy screen. I was also sure we were looking at Hannah Voskuhl's mysterious lover.

Hilary knew, I was almost sure of f it. But why she would cancel such a thing related to her sisters death, I couldn't imagine. Old habits are hard to crack, she said.

I wanted another shot at her? And I reached her by phone at the family house in shaker Heights.

"I had a chance to speak to Pascalin shortley," I told her I just need a few details to cleared up."

"You realize this is a very stressful time for me and my family, inspector," Hilary replies. " we told you what we knew."

I don't want to come on too strong. She had lost her sister in a horrible way. Her parent's home was filled with mourners and grief. And she was under no obligation to talk to me at all.

"Pascalin told me a few things about Hannah. Her lifestyle. . . "

"We told you all that," she replied defensively. "But we also told you after meeting Darlington she began to settle down."

"That's what I want to talk to you about. Pascalin recalled there was someone she was seeing in San Francisco."

"I thought we told you Hannah dates lots of men."

"This one went on for a long time. He was older. Married. Some kind of big shot. Possibly famous."

"I wasn't my sister's keeper," Hilary complained.

"I need a name, Ms. Simon. This man could be her killer."

I'm adidas I don't understand. I already told you what I know. My sister didn't exactly confide in me. We lived very different lives. I'm sure you have put two and two already- there was a lot I didn't approve of"

"You said something to me the first time we talked. Old habits are hard to crack. What sort of habits were you referring to?"

I'm afraid I don't know what you mean. The Cleveland police are handling this, inspector. Can't we just let them do their job?"

I'm trying to help you, Ms. Simon. Why did Hannah move away from San Francisco? I think you know. Was someone abusing her? Was Hannah in trouble?"

Hilary sounded frightened. "I appreciate what you are trying to do, but I'm going to hang up now, inspector."

It's going to come out, Hilary. It always does. An address book. Her phone bill. It's not jus Hannah. There are four others, back in California. They were just as hopeful about the rest of their lives as your sister. Just as deserving."

There was a tiny sob in her voice. "I have no idea what you are talking about ."

I felt I had one last chance. "Here's the really ugly truth about murder. If I have learned one thing as a homicide detective, it's that the lines don't stay fixed. Yesterday you were an innocent victim, but now you are in this, too. This killer will strike again, and you will regret whatever you didn't tell me for the rest of your life."

There was a heavy silence on the line. I knew what it meant. It was the struggle inside Hilary Bloom's conscience.

I heard a click. She had hung up the phone.