Clare's profiling of the killer was completely accurate.
I wondered if it was sexist on Clive and my part to assume the sniper was a male. Then again, the idea of a female officer secretly attracted to me and resentful of Sarah seemed egotistical on my part at least--I can't speak for Clive, although if he even suggested such a possibility it would have been awkward for both of us.
But this is all conjecture after the fact.
Who knew what was going through our minds? We were so shocked and surprised by the whole incident we didn't realize how enmeshed in our own perspective we were.
It took Clare to be dispassionate and state the facts and right away Clive and I saw the logic.
It was embarrassing. For a profiler you'd think I'd be details oriented, but Clare put me to shame. She was on the phone to H.R. while checking on-line personnel data and giving me ideas for possible leads on female employees.
I was impressed. Although I had the experience, she had a natural talent for the work.
I realized much of my success in breaking past cases I owed to my background in police work and relying on instincts. And now my intuition was telling me we were on the right track.
Clare had another advantage we needed to exploit.
While I had left the force and was writing detective fiction, she had been present in the detachment and had daily interaction with these people. I began to wonder why Cyril bothered at all to call me into the case when Clare was so competent.
I wondered again if it were bias on his part, wanting a man involved. If that were the case it'd be completely reactionary and sexist, but then I coloured when I recalled thinking Clare was much too beautiful to be involved in police work.
No, Cyril probably figured out what Clare did―I wasn't just the innocent bystander observing Sarah being gunned down―I was the audience. I was the reason why Sarah was the target in the first place.
Clare finally got off the phone.
"All that time wasted," she hissed, "just to find that member was deceased. Well, one down, hundreds to go."
"Hundreds?" I exclaimed, "I thought we only had 50 officers to check."
She shook her head. "We have 50 full-time active officers, but that doesn't include civilian members and public service employees, not to mention those who have retired or left the service and may still have connections. It's a pretty daunting task."
I looked crestfallen. "This is going to take longer than I thought."
"You can't always rely on your instincts or your smile, Price Charming―it's a hard world."
Her remark stung but the point was well-taken. What got left out of my detective fiction were the countless hours of monotonous work, tedious stakeouts and following up leads. My nostalgia for the job painted out those shadows.
I was after five in the afternoon, when we called it a day. It had been exhausting work. We both were bleary eyed and tired.
Sarah grabbed me by the arm on the way out, "I feel like Chinese. Treat me to Yin's again," she smiled sweetly.
"Hey," I protested, "I thought our agreement was one dinner at Yin's and a week of coffees?"
"I know, but I'm hungry." Again, the smile and of course, it melted me.
"Oh Okay, I guess I'm hungry too," I laughed ruefully.
She looped her arm through mine and leaned into me as we walked to my SUV.
"Guess you're not the only one that's charming."
I stared at her open-mouthed and then burst out laughing.
"You're good―very good."
"Don't you forget it," she beamed.
She didn't have to remind me. Forgetting her was unlikely.
