"I'll try." He looked down at her, but not that far down. In her ballet flats she was about five ten, maybe eleven. In heels, they'd be eye-to-eye. "You teaching a ballet class today?"
"What? Oh, because of my getup. Yeah, this afternoon. I'm working at home until then."
"Are you working on a case yourself ?"
"Yeah, but it's no biggie. Have a nice day."
"Some guy hire you to follow his wife around?"
She gave him a smile to freeze his lungs. "Oh yeah, I might even get to hide in a bedroom closet and take a video." Then, to his utter surprise, she drew back her fist and smacked him in the arm, hard.
He was rubbing his arm when Georgie shouted, running right at him, "Daddy, I'm ready! Let's go or I'll be late."
Call him Mr. Smooth. "I guess that was a kind of stupid thing to say, wasn't it? Sorry. Bye, Erin."
"Bye, Erin. I'll see you at ballet class this afternoon." Georgie gave her a huge grin, and shook her finger at her. "Don't be late. Daddy, what did you say to Erin that was stupid?"
Erin closed the apartment door and latched the chain. She pushed the red beanbag back into the corner and paced. So they knew a woman had broken into Caskie Royal's office, no surprise there since the small window made it pretty obvious, but they couldn't have a clue it was her. She wasn't anywhere near their radar, and why should she be? They also believed the murder was connected to the break-in, but she was safe-unless she sent all her evidence, all the Culovort papers she'd copied off Royal's computer, to the media. Then they'd track her down and fry her.
But what if I get the Culovort documents to the media anonymously? I'd be safe then, wouldn't I? Dr. Kender would get to nail the bozos and we'd both walk away.
It could be done, but it was scary. Thank God there was time to think about it. She wondered what Dr. Kender would have to say.
Erin put the few dishes in the dishwasher, swiped down the kitchen, and got to work.
16
Savich was clipping his SIG to his belt when Elton John sang out "Candle in the Wind" on his cell.
"Savich."
"Bowie here. A guy called the field office in New Haven. I've got a lead on the woman who did the break-in at Schiffer Hartwin," and Bowie gave them an address not three blocks from the Norman Bates Inn.
"Sherlock and I are on our way."
Eric Tallman was a runner with insomnia who was also a sports writer and stay-at-home dad. He waved them into a small toy-strewn living room. He leaned down to scoop up a stuffed golden retriever as he waved them to the red-and-green plaid sofa. "Sorry for the mess. I haven't cleaned up after Luke yet this morning." He checked his watch. "He's taking his morning nap, but it's going to be close. Believe me, if he wakes up, conversation will cease. Sit down, sit down." He checked the baby monitor on a side table. "Since Luke came, I can't run now during the day, only at night after he's in bed. As I told Agent Richards on the phone, I was running in the woods near the Schiffer Hartwin building on Sunday night, a little after midnight. I nearly fell over a hedge because my eyes were on this woman I saw shimmying out of a small window on the side of the building, some fifteen feet up. She landed on a mess of bushes then rolled off and ran for Van Wie Park behind me."
Bowie looked wired. "What did she look like, Mr. Tallman?"
"She was slender, had on a dark jacket, zipped up, jeans, sneakers. I think she was wearing a black baseball cap, but she had a ponytail bouncing out the back, you know?"
"Yes," Bowie said. "What else?"
"I don't think she saw me, she was focused on getting out of there. She wasn't a runner, didn't have that natural runner's gait, but she was really graceful, I remember thinking that. She moved fluidly, I don't know how else to put it."
Sherlock sat forward. "Interesting way to put it-fluidly. Could you try to describe that more to us?"
"I don't know, really, like I said, she wasn't a practiced runner, didn't have those natural moves, but the thing is-" Tallman paused, shook his head. "Damned if I know, it's just that I know an athlete when I see one and that's what she was. She was in really good shape, you could tell. I could see she was scared but not panicked. Smooth, she looked smooth, controlled."
Sherlock pulled a stuffed bear from behind the sofa and stroked its soft fur. Sean still had his own white rabbit, but it only had one ear now. "Did you see the color of her ponytail, Mr. Tallman?"