“I know you are,” he said with a smile. “You’ve been taking in the room, asked to see my painting, and your voice, well, no one would accuse you of being shy, Ms. Rose. Now close your eyes.”
I complied, settling back as much as you can settle in a folding chair.
He said, “Go back to the time you first saw this woman—a woman, right?”
“Yes, but I saw her twice.”
“Excellent, but we’ll focus on the first time, because that’s when your brain recorded the most valuable information.” He’d taken on a tone both soft and commanding, which I found soothing.
“Take yourself back to where you saw her,” Dryer said. “Where was that?”
“At a wedding.”
“Where specifically?”
“In a church.”
“And what was your first impression of her physical appearance?”
“Sort of... sneaky. See, she came late and—”
“Those impressions are important,” he said gently. “But let’s focus on her physical features.”
I nodded. “Okay. She was a small person.”
“Small in frame? Small in height?”
“Height. Not overweight. Not thin either, though. She had on a beige wool pantsuit. And... wait. Do you know what I’m seeing?”
“What?”
I squeezed my eyes tighter. “This is so weird. I can’t believe I remember this, but it’s just like she is sitting right across the aisle from me again.”
“Go ahead.”
“Her suit jacket had one of those tiny plastic thingies sticking out from the left cuff and the store tag was still attached. Looks like a Nieman Marcus tag.”
“Focus on her face, please.”
“Sorry, okay. Tanned face. Doesn’t look like bottle tan, either. Maybe electric beach tan? And then there’s the hat.”
“What kind of hat?”
“A cloche... dark brown felt.”
“Ah. So it fit snug. What shape was her head?”
“Her skull was more prominent on the top than the back.”
“You’re doing great. Did her hair cover her forehead?”
“Hmmm. Her hair. Something about her hair. I’m seeing wisps peeking out around her face. Pale brownish gray.”
“Good. Go on.”
“She still wore the hat when I saw her later on. More hair revealed. Gray streaked.”
“Could you see her face better?” he asked.
I took a deep breath, exhaled, and closed my eyes again. “Yes. Her cheeks were bright from the wind.”
“Tell me about the shape of her face.”
“Oval.”
“And could you tell how old she was?”
“She moved like a young person, but there were lines on her forehead and around her eyes. Blue eyes, but a dark blue.” The more I concentrated, the better I could visualize her. This was amazing.
“Crow’s-feet?”
“Not that severe, but she did have age lines. And frown lines. Made her look... sad. Yes. She looked sad. I’d guess she was in her forties.”
“Eyes close together, far apart?”
I reached up and felt the bridge of my nose with thumb and index finger to gauge the space. I’d never thought about these little things when I looked at people before. “Maybe a half inch farther apart than mine,” I said.
I went on to describe the thin-lipped mouth, the straight nose, the slightly hollow cheeks, and even the freckles where her throat met her collarbone.
“And she never smiled? Showed her teeth?”
“If so, I didn’t notice. Of course we were all focused on Megan—she’s the bride. She looked so wonderful and she had on this lace coat over her wedding dress when she got out of the limo, sort of a 1940s look and—”
“Abby, please move your mental camera to the woman. If it helps, think about where she was standing in relation to the bride.”
“Sorry. She was waiting on the steps near the professional photographer, but sort of off by herself. And she was focused on her own camera, trying to get a shot of the bride and groom as they arrived.”
“Ears are very distinct. Did the hat cover them?”
“I could see the lobes but not much more. She was wearing pierced earrings—small pearl studs.”
“Okay. I think I have enough to go on.”
I stood. “So do I come back tomorrow or—” “This will take about fifteen minutes and I still need your help.” He was digging around in the crate again and this time pulled out a sketchbook along with a box of charcoal pencils.
“Only fifteen minutes?”
“I can work as fast as the computers stealing what used to be a decent side income. Don’t get me started, though.” He flipped open the book and chose a pencil from a tennis ball can seconding as a brush and pencil holder.
I dragged my chair beside him, and for the next quarter of an hour we worked together creating the composite. The guy was unbelievably talented, and soon we were both staring at the woman in the church.
Dryer pulled a spray can from the crate. “This is fixative. Not good stuff to breathe in, so you might want to step back.”
I stood and moved about three feet away. While he sprayed I kept staring. Something about the picture made it impossible for me to stop looking at the face I had pulled from my memory. What was it? But then the cloud of fixative hit me and I turned my head and had a minor coughing fit.
Dryer, meanwhile, retrieved a camera case from under the Futon and snapped several shots of the drawing with his 35mm. He then opened a drawer in the desk, removed a large manila envelope, and carefully placed the drawing inside. “Chief Fielder wanted this by tomorrow at the latest.”
“Is she coming here to pick it up?” I asked.
“She said Officer Henderson would come when we were done.”
“She’s paying you on delivery?”
“No. Some city official has to cosign on the check, so she’s mailing me the money.”
“Then you wouldn’t care if I delivered it? Because I’d be happy to drop the composite off.” Since Kate had seen the woman, too, I wanted her to have a look, see if she had the same feeling I had that this face was familiar.
“She might not contract with me again if I don’t follow her directions,” Dryer said. The eye must have twitched because he pressed the heel of his hand against his brow.
“If I could get the drawing to her more quickly than waiting for Henderson, then she’d be happy, right?”
“Yes... but, she’d have to okay the arrangement and—”
“Let’s just forget it.” Fielder might not okay anything that had to do with me, even if it benefited her.
But he picked up a cell phone from the desk and dialed a number off a scrap of paper he took from his jeans pocket. “She said to page her as soon as we were done, so I might as well ask her.” He listened for a second, then punched a few numbers and disconnected.
“While we wait for her to call back,” I said, “can I see what you’re working on?”
He smiled. “Are you sure you’re interested?”
His cell trilled. If that was Fielder, either she had no life aside from her job or she needed the composite in the worst way.
It
