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“Pretty impressive, Marshal Earp. And that was a nice dodge of that taxi.”
“Not really,” Payne said. “I mean, I didn’t get the sonofabitch off the street.”
“Internal Affairs came and got a copy of that,” Corporal Rapier said. “I don’t know squat about how they do their job-I’ve heard some good stories, some horror ones-but that loop should get you cleared quickly.”
“Thanks, Kerry. I certainly hope so.” He looked back at the other banks of screens. “Can you put up the Philly Inn?”
Rapier did. And then for Byrth’s benefit, Payne went over the main facts of that scene. Rapier filled in any gaps. Then they did the same with the Reading Terminal Market scene.
When they had finished, Byrth grunted. “Almost as busy as one of our days just on the south side of Houston.”
“Still no surveillance imagery from the Reading Terminal Market,” Rapier then said. “But there are new images of evidence from the scene.”
“Such as?” Payne said.
“Still digital photos of the spent shell casings. And the drugs. Let me punch it up.”
Rapier manipulated the console and the main image replicated the smaller one from panel number sixteen. The image of the Reading Terminal Market on-screen now was updated with a still shot taken at the crime scene. It even included rubber-gloved investigators working it.
The text box popped up in the right-hand corner, and Payne’s eyes went to the text, which read:
Cause: Shooting. one hundred percent probability drug-related. heroin-based product recovered at the scene. also 42 5.7- x 28-mm shell casings and 10 9-mm shell casings, and a Rwuger P89 9-mm semi-auto pistol.
Payne noticed that the underlines looked like they were hyperlinks. Rapier was manipulating an on-screen cursor over them.
“Those are hyperlinks?” Payne said.
“Yeah. As the information is added to the master case file, the links are added. These links weren’t there earlier. This is sweet. Watch.”
He clicked on RUGER P89 and an image of the pistol popped up as an inset. Along the bottom of the image frame was a series of digitized buttons.
The pistol was on a concrete floor, an inverted V plastic marker beside it bearing a black numeral 44. The pistol’s slide was in the full-back locked position, indicating the semiautomatic had fired all of its bullets.
“They shoot these with digital cameras, taking four overlapping angles so we can construct on the computer a three-dimensional rendering. Watch.”
He worked the joystick on the console. The pistol practically spun on the screen, allowing almost all angles of view.
Payne said, “Now, that’s pretty cool.”
“Yeah,” Rapier said proudly. “And if there’s detail on the evidence, you can drill down. Like this…”
He moved the cursor to the series of digitized buttons. He clicked on the one with a question mark on it. A text box popped up over the image of the pistol. It was translucent; they could still see the pistol. The text read:
Ruger P89 9-mm semiautomatic pistol.
Serial Number R34561234
Sold 02 JUN Seller: Philadelphia Archery and Gun Shop, 831–833 Ellsworth Street, Phila., Penna.
Buyer: Harold Thompson, 1201 Allendale St, Phila., Penna.
Notes: Owner Thompson Reported Weapon Stolen 15 AUG from Owner’s Personal Vehicle Parked in Front of Allendale St. Residence.
“Jesus,” Payne said somewhat disgustedly. “Another careless owner lets his gun get stolen, and not two weeks later it kills innocent people. Another reason why citizens probably shouldn’t be allowed to have guns.”
Byrth raised an eyebrow. “I take it you don’t believe in the Second Amendment, Matt?”
“To a degree. But with all the illegal guns and shootings in this city? Are you kidding me?”
