can think of is black."
Molly lifted up her sketchbook up and turned it around so that Jane Becker could see what she had drawn.
Jane Becker covered her mouth with one bandaged hand. "Oh my God," she whispered. "Oh my God, that's so much like him."
"You're sure?"
Jane Becker peered at the sketch more intently. "Maybe the cheekbones not so sharp. His cheeks were kind of fuller, not so hollow. And his eyebrows were thicker. I remember his eyebrows, because they were bristly and red like his hair."
Molly lightened the shadows under the cheekbones and made the face smoother and rounder. She quickly scribbled in some denser eyebrows, too.
"That's it," said Jane Becker. "That's the man who stabbed me. I can't believe how you did that."
"I listened to you, that's all," Molly told her. "You told me what he looked like, and here he is. But you told me-Jane Becker, legal secretary who lives with her parents in Lakeside Park, and that was very important."
She didn't say that she had made the suspect much less aggressive in his appearance than Jane Becker had described him. In spite of her prettiness, she suspected that Jane Becker had some problems relating to men. Probably not serious problems-no more than a lack of confidence, or a recent relationship that had suddenly turned sour. But witnesses' personal prejudices could dramatically distort their description of a perpetrator's appearance. Black suspects were frequently described by white witnesses as being much more dark skinned and much more physically intimidating than they actually proved to be when they were arrested. Looking "dangerous" didn't affect the length of a suspect's nose, or the positioning of his ears, or the color of his hair.
Molly had also made the suspect look flushed, rather than scarlet. A witness's perception of color was always intensified by fear, because it widened the pupils.
She closed her sketchbook and packed away her pencils and her crayons. "Thanks, Jane. You've been very brave and very helpful."
"What happens now?" Jane Becker asked her.
"Right now I'm going over to police headquarters to put some finishing touches to this composite, ready for the media. It should be on the TV news later tonight, and in the papers by tomorrow morning."
"Do you think you'll catch him? I couldn't bear to think this could happen to anybody else."
Molly opened her sketchbook again and looked at the face of Jane Becker's attacker. "If this sketch is as accurate as you say it is-then yes, I'm pretty sure we'll catch him."
"Can I ask you one more thing?"
"Sure, of course you can."
"Where did you find that fantastic necklace? I haven't been able to take my eyes off it."
Molly lifted it up. "It's amazing, isn't it? I got it at the Peddlers Flea Market on Kellogg. I don't suppose it's worth anything much, but I fell in love with it as soon as I saw it. It has everything, doesn't it? Suns, moons, even little animals."
On the way out of Jane Becker's room, she showed the sketch to the policeman sitting outside. "This is the guy…just in case he tries to get in here and finish the job."
"Dead ringer for my Uncle Herman," said the cop. "Be glad to pull him in for you, on suspicion."
CHAPTER 6 - Hunt a Killer
By the time Molly arrived back home in Blue Ash, Sissy and Trevor were sitting in the yard (so that Sissy could smoke).
"Are you hungry?" asked Sissy. "There's some hummus in the fridge."
"No, I'll just have a drink, thanks. I'm pooped."
"How did it go, hon?" asked Trevor, pouring her a glass of wine.
"It was sad, as usual. Sad and horrible and pointless."
"So how did it happen?"
Molly sat down. "The girl was going out to get a box lunch, that's all. She got onto the elevator on the twenty-first floor. She went down to the nineteenth, and this guy from one of the realty offices got on, too. But on the next floor, they were joined by the perpetrator.
"They went down as far as the fifteenth, and then the perpetrator stopped the elevator and jammed
Molly lifted up her sketchbook up and turned it around so that Jane Becker could see what she had drawn.
Jane Becker covered her mouth with one bandaged hand. "Oh my God," she whispered. "Oh my God, that's so much like him."
"You're sure?"
Jane Becker peered at the sketch more intently. "Maybe the cheekbones not so sharp. His cheeks were kind of fuller, not so hollow. And his eyebrows were thicker. I remember his eyebrows, because they were bristly and red like his hair."
Molly lightened the shadows under the cheekbones and made the face smoother and rounder. She quickly scribbled in some denser eyebrows, too.
"That's it," said Jane Becker. "That's the man who stabbed me. I can't believe how you did that."
"I listened to you, that's all," Molly told her. "You told me what he looked like, and here he is. But you told me-Jane Becker, legal secretary who lives with her parents in Lakeside Park, and that was very important."
She didn't say that she had made the suspect much less aggressive in his appearance than Jane Becker had described him. In spite of her prettiness, she suspected that Jane Becker had some problems relating to men. Probably not serious problems-no more than a lack of confidence, or a recent relationship that had suddenly turned sour. But witnesses' personal prejudices could dramatically distort their description of a perpetrator's appearance. Black suspects were frequently described by white witnesses as being much more dark skinned and much more physically intimidating than they actually proved to be when they were arrested. Looking "dangerous" didn't affect the length of a suspect's nose, or the positioning of his ears, or the color of his hair.
Molly had also made the suspect look flushed, rather than scarlet. A witness's perception of color was always intensified by fear, because it widened the pupils.
She closed her sketchbook and packed away her pencils and her crayons. "Thanks, Jane. You've been very brave and very helpful."
"What happens now?" Jane Becker asked her.
"Right now I'm going over to police headquarters to put some finishing touches to this composite, ready for the media. It should be on the TV news later tonight, and in the papers by tomorrow morning."
"Do you think you'll catch him? I couldn't bear to think this could happen to anybody else."
Molly opened her sketchbook again and looked at the face of Jane Becker's attacker. "If this sketch is as accurate as you say it is-then yes, I'm pretty sure we'll catch him."
"Can I ask you one more thing?"
"Sure, of course you can."
"Where did you find that fantastic necklace? I haven't been able to take my eyes off it."
Molly lifted it up. "It's amazing, isn't it? I got it at the Peddlers Flea Market on Kellogg. I don't suppose it's worth anything much, but I fell in love with it as soon as I saw it. It has everything, doesn't it? Suns, moons, even little animals."
On the way out of Jane Becker's room, she showed the sketch to the policeman sitting outside. "This is the guy…just in case he tries to get in here and finish the job."
"Dead ringer for my Uncle Herman," said the cop. "Be glad to pull him in for you, on suspicion."
CHAPTER 6 - Hunt a Killer
By the time Molly arrived back home in Blue Ash, Sissy and Trevor were sitting in the yard (so that Sissy could smoke).
"Are you hungry?" asked Sissy. "There's some hummus in the fridge."
"No, I'll just have a drink, thanks. I'm pooped."
"How did it go, hon?" asked Trevor, pouring her a glass of wine.
"It was sad, as usual. Sad and horrible and pointless."
"So how did it happen?"
Molly sat down. "The girl was going out to get a box lunch, that's all. She got onto the elevator on the twenty-first floor. She went down to the nineteenth, and this guy from one of the realty offices got on, too. But on the next floor, they were joined by the perpetrator.
"They went down as far as the fifteenth, and then the perpetrator stopped the elevator and jammed
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