“Are you the man whose daughter was hurt?”
I stood and introduced Lena. We followed him up the steps and to the right as he told us about the police interview. “They asked a lot of questions the night it happened, and then another patrolman came and asked again.”
I finished my pretzel and pop on the way up the stairs, where a handicapped-access ramp ran along the side of the building, then changed direction and returned to the sidewalk below. He pointed to the flat area. “She landed there.”
I looked at the cement sidewalk. I tried to see the evening as Devon had described it; he had grabbed her arm, she had jerked it back and had fallen. It made sense as I looked at it. He was upset, she had gone to meet him, and there had been an argument.
I looked back at the entrance to the museum, but I couldn’t see the doorway from where we stood. “You saw her fall?”
“No.”
I turned and looked at him. “Then how did you know this had happened?”
“The kid banged on the door.”
“He came to the door?” He nodded, and I thought about what Devon had said at the ballpark, how he had said that he had run away. “Devon Conliffe came to the door of the museum?”
He nodded some more. “Yeah, I was in the main lobby when this kid ran up to the door and started pounding and screaming.”
“What’d he look like?”
He thought. “Tall, suit, blue tie, raincoat…” He watched me. “He said his name, pointed to what had happened, and yelled for me call 911.”
“He told you his name?”
“Yes.”
“Then what?”
“I called the police, got another one of the guys to come up to the lobby, and came out here.”
“How long did that take?”
He took a breath. “A minute, maybe two.”
“Then what?”
“When I got out here, he was gone.”
“When did the police arrive?”
“A couple of minutes later.” I stared at the concrete, and I looked back up at him. “What’d he look like?”
“The cop?”
“No, Devon Conliffe. You said he was tall and how he was dressed, but what did his face look like?”
“I don’t know. White kid, dark hair parted on the side…”
“Do you have this morning’s Daily News?”
He looked at me for a second and then nodded. “Yeah, I’ve got it up at the front counter, but I haven’t had a chance to read it yet.”
“Would you mind if we take a look?”
We passed the statue of Benjamin Franklin, who was seated contentedly in the warm glow of the science museum.
My attention was drawn back to the security desk. Cordero had slapped the newspaper onto the counter. I looked at it for a second and then spun it around so that it faced him. “Look carefully. Is that the kid who pounded on the door?”
He stared at the front page for a minute and then looked back up at me. “You know…I don’t think it is.”
6
“Three things. Devon said that he had run away as soon as another person had arrived. I assumed it was the guard he was talking about but, when I noticed that you couldn’t see the museum entrance from where Cady had been hurt, I started wondering.” I took a bite of my ice-cream bar and watched as Lena did the same. What would lunch have been without dessert?
“Second, Cordero said that Devon had dark hair, but it was blond.”
“And third?”
“The blue tie. When I spoke with Devon, he said that he hadn’t been home and that he was still wearing the same clothes. At the ballpark, his tie was red.” We were sitting on a bench in Logan Circle watching the fish and swans blow water twenty feet in the air, as if the humidity needed any help. “Individually, it’s not much, but all together…Of course, now that Devon’s picture is plastered across every newspaper in town, it’ll probably be harder to find the mystery man. Whoever he is, if he’s smart, he’ll fold up the tents and head home.”
“What if he was just some passerby? I mean, it is a big city.”
“I don’t think so. There weren’t any functions at the Institute that night, so why would anyone be hanging around the museum steps? How would he know Devon’s name, and why did he identify himself as Devon Conliffe?” I leaned back on the bench and took another bite of my ice cream. I thought about it as I looked at the nearest Indian in the Fountain of Three Rivers; he was representative of the Delaware River and had more than a passing resemblance to Henry. “Maybe, after Devon ran, the other fellow decided to pin him to the incident.”
“Then disappeared himself?”
“Evidently he had something to hide, too.” I finished my ice cream and was chewing on the stick. “We are looking for a Caucasian male, approximately thirty years of age, dark hair, and at least six feet tall.”
“You think the mystery man had something to do with Devon’s death?”
I could feel the wood beginning to splinter between my teeth. “It makes sense. Somebody cares enough about Cady to follow her, cares enough to chance revealing himself after she’s hurt, and cares enough to possibly toss Devon off the bridge.”
She finished hers. “That’s a lot of caring.”
“Yep.”
“Are you still hungry?”
“Hmm?”
She smiled. “You’re chewing the stick, and I thought you might want something else to eat.”
I dropped it in the nearest trash can. Henry was with Cady this morning, and I wanted to get back to the hospital before he had to leave for the museum, but Lena was doing so much. I took a deep breath. “You want to tell me about this affair?”
She laughed and then looked at me through the corner of an almond-shaped eye. “I wasn’t sure if you remembered that part of the conversation.”
“I’m pretty good with details, especially those involving domestic disturbances.”
She looked at the Indian maiden leaning modestly on her side against an excited swan. I had read the plaque after we had crossed the street and knew that the young girl represented Wissahickon Creek, but in Lena Moretti’s mind she was possibly emblematic of something more. “It was eight years ago. Victor had made inspector and just started working with the Mayor’s Task Force on Organized Crime. He wasn’t home a lot, and I guess I got bored.”
I waited, but she didn’t say anything else. “It sounds like there’s more to this story.”
She continued to watch the fountain. “There is, but that’s probably all you need to know.”
I waited a respectful moment before replying. “Okay.” I watched the people around the fountain, and it was only after a moment that I realized I was looking for a thirty-year-old male with dark hair and a darker reflection.
When I looked back, she had turned toward me and was smiling. “Who’s got the afternoon shift?”
“I do, but if you could check on Dog and cover for me for a little while this evening I’d really appreciate it.”
The smile held. “Buy me dinner?”
