"You were in the house when George came back from his run?"
"Yes. I was making us a salad. He's supposed to have salad, because of his arteries."
"You were in the house the whole time he was out?" "Yes, except when I went out into the yard to take down my washing."
"Was the back door unlocked?"
"Yes, it was. But I was in the kitchen the whole time, and I can see right down the corridor. Nobody could have gotten into the bathroom. It's just not possible."
"When George arrived home, did you open the front door for him?"
"Of course."
"So for a very short time, you couldn't see down the corridor?"
"Only for one or two minutes."
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Hicks jotted that down. "One or two minutes is a long time, ma'am."
"Yes, but you see, nobody came out of the bathroom."
That afternoon, Hicks and Banks and six uniformed officers went knocking on doors all around the Drewrys' house, asking their neighbors if they had seen anybody or anything suspicious. They were greeted at every door by "sorry, Officer, no," and shaken heads. Decker went back to headquarters and sent an e-mail of Sandra's drawing to every police division in the city, as well as the state police in Chesterfield. He also asked the duty secretary to print out two hundred photocopies.
He met Officer Wekelo in the corridor. "Show this around. Anybody's seen a guy looking like this, there's a fifty in it."
"What's with the Ping-Pong ball eyes?" Wekelo asked.
"How should I know, grasshopper? Just find him for me."
He pushed aside all the clutter on his desk and started to make comparative notes about the Maitland killing and the Drewry murder. The assailant in both cases had been completely invisible. He had entered his victims' houses unseen, and in the case of the Maitlands, without even opening a locked door or window. He had killed without a visible weapon and left without leaving a single physical trace of his having been there. However eager Cab was to bring Jerry Maitland to trial, Decker thought it much more likely that there was only one assailant, and that he had carried out both killings, and that he wasn't Jerry Maitland. Maybe he had used a bayonet for one and a bowie knife for the other, but most gun and knife fanatics owned a wide assortment of weapons. He had once arrested a Vietnam vet for holding up a convenience store with a switchblade knife in one hand and a scimitar in the other. Couldn't make up his mind if he was James Dean or Sinbad the Sailor.
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No—unlike Cab, Decker was more interested in finding out what was similar between Maitland and Drewry, rather than what was different. As yet, there was no apparent motive for either murder, and no apparent connection between the two victims. But Decker had been in the business long enough to know that there was no such thing as a random killing. "Random" was a term that senior officers used when they really meant "We already have one reasonably likely suspect in custody and I don't want to spend any more of my overtime budget looking for somebody else."
He was sketching out a floor plan of George Drewry's house when Cab came in. "Where are we at?" he wanted to know. "I've got this goddamn media conference in ten minutes."
Decker scratched his ear with his pencil. "We're at square zilch, that's where we're at. But I guess you could tell the media that we're actively pursuing several promising leads and we're confident of an early arrest."
"We are? What promising leads?"
"You're the captain, you tell me."
Cab suddenly lifted up a crumpled sheet of paper he was clutching in his hand. "By the way, what the Sam Hill is this? I thought I made it clear that we weren't going to release this drawing. They're all over the building. They're even pinned up on the notice boards. This guy is a figment of a mentally retarded girl's imagination and we are officially not looking for him."
"I just thought the team ought to know who it is we're not officially looking for. You know—in case they see him, and officially try to arrest him."
"You and myrtle. You both make my nose run."
"You'll be out on the lake tomorrow."
"I wish. Weekend leave is canceled, because of this." Decker said, "Oh?" Then, "Oh." No dessert, then. Not this weekend, anyhow.
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CHAPTER TEN
He was on his way to the men's room when Mayzie came strutting along the corridor toward him.
"Don't be late?" she demanded. "Don't be late? It's nearly four and you were supposed to meet me at twelve."
"Mayzie, for Christ's sake, I'm dealing with two very complicated homicides here."
"I know. I know you're busy. But all I'm asking for is five minutes. This is my life we're talking about here. This is your baby's life."
"Mayzie . . . I know I've let you down but I really don't have time for this."
"Well, make time for it."
"Do you mind if I freshen up first?"
He pushed open the door of the men's room but Mayzie followed him.
"Hey, this is the men's room."
"Don't be sexist. I just want to know where I stand with you, how serious you are."
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"How serious I am? About what?"
"About us. About you and me. Come on, Decker, we've been seeing each other for three and a half months now. I could be carrying your child. I think I deserve to know where I stand, don't you?"
Decker raised both hands in surrender. "Mayzie, I can't tell a lie. I like you, I think you're a gorgeous girl. But you know what I'm like. I've got a very short span of attention when it comes to emotional relationships. I'm not looking for anything long-term. And I'm certainly not looking for fatherhood."
Mayzie wrapped her arms around his neck, and pushed him back against the door of one of the stalls. "That's your defense mechanism talking, that's all. You lost Cathy, you're scared to commit to anybody else in case you lose them, too. Well, let me tell you, Decker, I love you and you won't lose me, ever. I promise."
Decker tried to pry himself free, but Mayzie forced him right back into the stall, so that he stumbled and sat down on the toilet seat. "Come on, Mayzie, for Christ's sake."
She gripped his shoulders and stared intently into his eyes. "Tell me you don't love me, go on. Tell me you don't think I'm the sexiest girl you ever went out with. Remember that afternoon at the Brandermill Inn? Remember what I did for you then?"
"Mayzie—"
She kissed his forehead. Then she kissed his nose and his cheeks and his eyes and his lips. He tried to stand up but she pushed him back down, kissing his ears and his neck and pulling at the buttons of his shirt.
"Mayzie—"
But at that moment, they heard the men's room door open, and voices. Mayzie pushed the door shut behind her
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and shot the catch. Decker tried to stand up again, but she pressed her finger over her lips and said, "Shh!"
Decker was about to protest when he heard Major Bruscow say, "I'm sorry, I can't agree with that operational study at all. We just don't have the manpower to have all of those locations under surveillance at one time."
"Okay . . . I'll talk to the chief about it. But I have to warn you that she's pretty set on making changes." That was Acting Deputy Chief Prescott.
Shit, Decker thought. With two senior officers standing at the urinals with their zippers open, there was no way that he could come barging out of the toilet stall with Mayzie Shifflett in tow.
Mayzie kissed him again and again and he tried to push her away, but her hands seemed to be everywhere. She took hold of his zipper and tugged it open in three sharp tugs, and then wriggled her hand inside his pants.