'This was a man?'
James gave me a disgusted look. 'I do know the difference. Yes. He was a man.'
'Please describe him.'
'Five-ten, thin, sharp features. His cheeks were a little sunken. But I actually found him rather striking.'
'What about his hair?'
'He was wearing a baseball cap, so I didn't see much of it. But I got the impression it was a really terrible red. A Raggedy Andy red. I can't imagine who got hold of him, but he ought to sue for malpractice.'
'And his eyes?'
He was wearing dark-tinted glasses. Sort of Armani-ish.' He got amused. 'I was so surprised you had a son like that. I would have figured your boy wore khakis, skinny ties and went to MIT…'
'James, there is nothing lighthearted about this conversation,' I abruptly said.
His face lit up and his eyes got wide as the meaning became clear. 'Oh my God. The man I've been reading about? That's who… My God. He was in my gallery?'
I made no comment.
James was ecstatic. 'Do you realize what this will do?' he said. 'When people find out he shopped here?'
I said nothing.
'It will be fabulous for my business. People from all over will come here. My gallery will be on the tour routes.'
'That's right. Be certain to advertise something like that,' I said. 'And character disorders from everywhere will stand in line. They'll touch your expensive paintings, bronzes, tapestries, and ask you endless questions. And they won't buy a thing.'
He got quiet.
'When he came in,' I said, 'what did he do?'
'He looked around. He said he was looking for a last-minute gift.'
'What was his voice like?'
'Quiet. Kind of high-pitched. I asked who the present was for, and he said his mother. He said she was a doctor. That's when I showed him the pin he ended up buying. It's a caduceus. Two white gold serpents twined around a yellow gold winged staff.
He said she was a doctor. That's when I showed him the pin he ended up buying. It's a caduceus. Two white gold serpents twined around a yellow gold winged staff. The serpents have ruby eyes. It's handmade and absolutely spectacular.'
'That's what he bought for two hundred and fifty dollars?' I asked.
'Yes.' He was appraising me, crooked finger under his chin. 'Actually, it's you. The pin is really you. Would you like for me to have the artist make another one?'
'What happened after he bought the pin?'
'I asked if he wanted it gift wrapped, and he didn't. He pulled out the charge card. And I said, «Well, small, small world. Your mother works right around the corner.» He didn't say anything. So I asked if he was home for the holidays, and he smiled.'
'He didn't talk,' I said.
'Not at all. It was like pulling hens' teeth. I wouldn't call him friendly. But he was polite.'
'Do you remember how he was dressed?'
'A long black leather coat. It was belted, so I don't know what he had on under it. But I thought he looked sharp.'
'Shoes?'
'It seems he had on boots.'
'Did you notice anything else about him?'
He thought for a while, looking past me at the door. He said, 'Now that you mention it, he had what looked like burns on his fingers. I thought that was a little scary.'
'What about his hygiene?' I then asked, for the more addicted a crack user got, the less he cared about clothing or cleanliness.
'He seemed clean to me. But I really didn't get close to him.'
'And he bought nothing else while he was here?'
'Unfortunately not.'
Elmer James propped an elbow on the showcase and rested his cheek on his fist. He sighed. 'I wonder how he found me.'
I walked back, avoiding slushy puddles on streets and the cars that drove through them heedlessly. I got splashed once. I returned to my office, where Janet was in the library watching a teaching videotape of an autopsy while Lucy worked in the computer room. I left them alone and went down to the morgue to check on my staff.
Fielding was at the first table, working on a young woman found dead in the snow below her bedroom window. I noted the pinkness of the body and could smell alcohol in the blood. On her right arm was a cast scribbled with messages and autographs.
'How are we doing?' I asked.
'She's got a STAT alcohol of.23,' he replied, examining a section of aorta. 'So that didn't get her. I think she's going to be an exposure death.'
'What are the circumstances?' I could not help but think of Jane.
'Apparently, she was out drinking with friends and by the time they took her home around eleven p.m. it was snowing pretty hard. They let her out and didn't wait to see her in. The police think her keys fell in the snow and she was too drunk to find them.'
He dropped the section of aorta into a jar of formalin. 'So she tried to get in a window by breaking it with her cast.'