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“Yeah, and I’m reading the one you filed on December fifteenth while surveilling Ledo’s building.”
“That was before you told me not to, to observe from inside.”
“Right, before that. You report seeing a deliveryman, one who appeared unable to locate an address. Do you remember that?”
“I have a really good memory.”
“You said deliveryman. Are you certain the individual was male?”
“I . . . That’s inaccurate, Lieutenant. I assumed.” Distress clouded his eyes. “I didn’t accurately report.”
“It’s okay. Did you see this person’s face?”
“I saw a portion of the face. The individual was wearing brown pants, a brown coat and ski cap, wraparound sunshades, and a lighter brown scarf around the lower portion of the face. Also gloves. The individual carried a shipping box.”
Deflated, Eve nodded. “Okay, Mason, good work.”
“The individual removed the sunshades in order to—I believe—take a picture of the building across the street.”
Eve held her breath. “Describe what you saw.”
“The individual appeared to be mixed race. This I observed from the tone of the skin, which was like coffee regular. The cap was pulled to the eyebrows, but what I could see of the eyebrows were brown. Dark brown. I wasn’t close enough to see his eyes, or the color, I mean. When I approached, he put the shades back on. So I didn’t see the eyes. I’m sorry.”
“Did you get any sense of the shape of the face?”
On screen, Mason’s forehead creased in thought. “I would say on the narrow side. I would judge this person to be about five feet, ten inches in height and one hundred and fifty pounds.
“Is this a person of interest, Lieutenant?”
“Yes, I’m very interested.”
“I could go back and surveil.”
“No, that’s a negative, Mason. I’d like you to work with a police artist. I’m going to send him to you. A Detective Yancy. You’ll be at the diner?”
“I have deliveries, and I have dishes.”
“I’m going to fix it, Mason. This is official police business. Make your delivery and go back. Just do your job, and I’ll send Detective Yancy to you. I’ll fix it with your boss.”
“Yes, sir, Lieutenant. Is this the bad guy?”
“Yes, this is the bad guy. You’re helping me out. I’m going to talk to your boss now. Get your delivery done.”
“Yes, sir, Lieutenant. Mason Tobias, out.”
On a half laugh for blind luck, Eve tagged the diner, and had a short, firm, no-bullshit talk with Mason’s boss. She made the tag to Yancy, gave him the particulars.
Then she sat back, studied her board again.
“Maybe a little break,” she muttered. “Just maybe.”
She’d lucked out with Mason Tobias. He might’ve been a little dingy, but he had exceptional observation skills, a good eye for detail.
And as Peabody had said, was puppy-dog earnest.
Maybe she could get him in a mentoring program. If he kept going out on “patrol” he was going to end up hurt or dead.
She zinged off a quick e-mail to the civilian liaison, then put Mason aside to work.
