"Monoghan responded," Brown said to Hawes, "phoned the squad. Willis went on over with the stuff on my desk."
The stuff on his desk, Hawes thought. The reports, the positive ID, the poster he'd taken from the high school bulletin board.
"I hate to have to go over this another time, Mrs. Sebastiani," Brown said, "but I wonder if you can give me a description of your husband again. So we can close this out."
"I have it right here," Hawes said. He was beginning to catch on. Nobody closed out a case while the murderer was still running around loose. He took his notebook from the inside pocket of his jacket, flipped through the pages. "Male, white, thirty-four years old hellip;" he said.
"That right?" Brown asked Marie.
"Yes," she said.
"Five-eleven," Hawes said, "one-seventy hellip;"
"Mrs. Sebastiani?"
"Yes."
Eyes flashing with intelligence now. Hawes figured she was beginning to catch on, too. Didn't know exactly what was coming, but was bracing herself for it. Hawes didn't know exactly what was coming, either. But he had a hunch.
"Hair black," he said, "Eyes hellip;"
"Why do we have to go over this again?" she said. "I identified the body, you have everything you hellip;"
My brother's hair was black, yes," Dolores said softly, and patted Marie's hand.
"Eyes blue," Hawes said.
"Blue eyes, yes," Dolores said. "Like mine."
"Will I have to come into the city again?" Marie asked. "To look at hellip; at what they hellip; they found in the hellip; ?"
"Mrs. Sebastiani," Brown said, "the head we found in the river doesn't match your husband's photograph."
Marie blinked at him.
Silence.
Then:
"Well hellip; does hellip; does that mean hellip; what does that mean?"
"It means the dead man isn't your husband," Brown said.
"Has someone made a mistake then?" Dolores asked at once. "Are you saying my brother isn't dead?"
"Mrs. Sebastiani," Brown said, "would you mind very much if I read you this description you gave me of Jimmy Brayne?"
"I really don't see why we have to go over this a hundred times," she said. "If you were doing your job right, you'd havefound Jimmy by how."
Brown had already taken out his notebook.
"White male," he read, "thirty-two years old. Height, six feet. Weight, a hundred and eighty hellip;"
"Yes," she said impatiently.
Eyes alert now. Hawes had seen those eyes before. Desperate eyes, trapped eyes. Brown was closing in, and she knew it.
"Hair black, eyes brown."
"Yes," she said again.
"Mrs. Sebastiani, the eyes were brown."
"Yes, I just told you hellip;"
"On the head in the river. The eyes were brown." He turned to Dolores. "Does your brother have an appendectomy scar?" he asked.
"A what?"
"Did he ever have his appendix removed?"
"No. I don't understand what you hellip;"
"Was he ever in a skiing accident? Did he ever tear the cartilage on his hellip;"
"He never skied in his life," Dolores said.
She looked extremely puzzled now. She glanced at Marie.
"The techs printed the fingers and thumbs on both hands," Brown said. "We're running a comparison check right this minute. Was your brother ever in the service?"
"Yes. The Army."
"Would you know if Jimmy Brayne was ever in the service?"
"I don't know."
"Or in any security-sensitive job? How about you, Mrs. Sebastiani? You seem to know a lot about Jimmy Brayne, maybe you know whether he's ever been fingerprinted."
"All I know about him hellip;"
"Right down to his beauty spot," Brown said, and snapped the notebook shut.
"Marie, what is he talking about?" Dolores asked.
"I think she knows what I'm talking about," Brown said.
Marie said nothing.
"If the prints come up blank," Brown said, "we've still got the head. Someone'll identify him. Sooner or later, we'll get a positive ID."
She still said nothing.
"He's Jimmy Brayne, isn't he?" Brown asked.
Silence.
"You and your husband killed Jimmy Brayne, didn't you?" he said.