Nina carefully regarded each man’s uniform in turn, searching for any hint of familiarity. Any detail at all that might trip a memory.
She shook her head. “I don’t see the right uniform.”
“You’re absolutely certain?” asked Gillis.
“I’m certain. It wasn’t any of those.”
She heard an undisguised snort of disappointment. It came from Norm Liddell, the D.A. who was standing next to Gillis. Sam, poker-faced, said nothing.
“Well, this was a big waste of my time,” muttered Liddell. “Is this all you’ve come up with, Navarro? A bellhop roundup?”
“We know Spectre was wearing some sort of uniform similar to a bellhop’s,” said Sam. “We just wanted her to look over a few.”
“We did track down a police report of that bike accident,” said Gillis. “The bicyclist himself called it in. I think he was worried about a lawsuit, so he made a point of stating that he hit the man outside a crosswalk. Apparently, Spectre was jaywalking when he was hit on Congress Street.”
“Congress?” Liddell frowned.
“Right near the Pioneer Hotel,” said Sam. “Which, we’ve found out, is where the Governor plans to stay day after tomorrow. He’s the guest speaker at some small business seminar.”
“You think Spectre’s target is the Governor?”
“It’s a possibility. We’re having the Pioneer checked and double-checked. Especially the Governor’s room.”
“What about the Pioneer’s bellhops?”
“We eliminated all of them, just based on height and age. No one’s missing any fingers. That one there — number three — is the closest to Spectre’s description. But he has all his fingers, too. We just wanted Nina to take a look at the uniform, see if it jogged a memory.”
“But no one in that lineup is Spectre.”
“No. We’ve looked at everyone’s hands. No missing fingers.”
Nina’s gaze turned to number three in the lineup. He was dressed in a bellhop’s red jacket and black pants. “Is that what all the Pioneer’s bellhops wear?” she asked.
“Yeah,” said Gillis. “Why?”
“I don’t think that’s the uniform I saw.”
“What’s different about it?”
“The man I saw in the ER — I’m just remembering it — his jacket was green. Sort of a forest green. It was definitely not red.”
Gillis shook his head. “We got us a problem then. The Holiday Inn’s uniform is red, too. Marriott’s green, but it’s not located anywhere near the bicycle accident.”
“Check out their staff anyway,” Liddell ordered. “If you have to interview every bellhop in town, I want this guy caught. And I sure as hell want him caught before he blows up some high-muck-a-muck. When’s the Governor arriving tomorrow?”
“Sometime in the afternoon,” said Gillis.
Liddell glanced at his watch. “We have a full twenty-four hours. If anything comes up, I get called. Got it?”
“Yes, sir, your highness,” muttered Gillis.
Liddell glanced sharply at him, but obviously decided to drop it. “My wife and I’ll be at the Brant Theater tonight. I’ll have my beeper with me, just in case.”
“You’ll be first on our list to call,” said Sam.
“We’re in the spotlight on this. So let’s not screw up.” It was Liddell’s parting shot, and the two cops took it in silence.
Only after Liddell had left the room did Gillis growl, “I’m gonna get that guy. I swear, I’m gonna get him.”
“Cool it, Gillis. He may be governor someday.”
“In which case, I’ll help Spectre plant the damn bomb myself.”
Sam took Nina’s arm and walked her out of the room. “Come on. I have my hands full today. I’ll introduce you to your new watchdog.”
“For now, we’re keeping you in a hotel,” he said.
“Officer Pressler’s been assigned to watch over you. He’s a sharp cop. I trust him.”
“Meaning I should, too?”
“Absolutely. I’ll call you if we turn up any suspects. We’ll need you to identify them.”
“So I may not be seeing you for a while.”
He stopped in the hallway and looked at her. “No. It may be a while.”
They faced each other for a moment. The hallway was hardly private; certainly this wasn’t the time or the place to confess how she felt about him.
So it was back to Mr. Civil Servant. She could deal with that. After the trauma of this last week, she could deal with anything, including the realization that she had, once again, gotten involved with the wrong man.
She met his gaze with one just as cool and said, “You find Spectre. I’ll identify him. Just do it soon, okay? So I can get on with my life.”
“We’re working on it round the clock. We’ll keep you informed.”
“Can I count on that?”
He answered with a curt dip of the head. “It’s part of my job.”
OFFICER LEON PRESSLER was not a conversationalist. In fact, whether he could converse at all was in question. For the past three hours, the muscular young cop had done a terrific sphinx imitation, saying nary a word as he roamed the hotel room, alternately checking the door and glancing out the third floor window. The most he would say was “Yes, ma’am,” or “No, ma’am,” and that was only in response to a direct question. Was the strong, silent bit some kind of cop thing? Nina wondered. Or was he under orders not to get too chatty with the witness?
She tried to read a novel she’d picked up in the hotel gift shop, but after a few chapters she gave up. His silence made her too nervous. It was simply not natural to spend a day in a hotel room with another person and not, at the very least, talk to each other. Lord knew, she tried to draw him out.
“Have you been a cop a long time, Leon?” she asked.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Do you enjoy it?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Does it ever scare you?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Never?”
“Sometimes.”
Now they were getting somewhere, she thought.
But then Officer Pressler crossed the room and peered out the window, ignoring her.
She put her book aside and launched another attempt at conversation.
“Does this sort of assignment bore you?” she asked.
“No, ma’am.”
“It would bore me. Spending all day in a hotel room doing nothing.”
“Things could happen.”
“And I’m sure you’ll be ready for it.” Sighing, she reached for the remote and clicked on the TV. Five minutes of channel surfing turned up nothing of interest. She clicked it off again. “Can I make a phone call?” she asked.
