The Butterfly Forest (MysteryThriller) by Tom Lowe

Author:Tom Lowe [Lowe, Tom]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Kingsbridge
Published: 2011-10-19T16:00:00+00:00

FIFTY-FIVE

I watched as two guards escorted Luke Palmer into the receiving area. He walked with the same body language I’d seen on so many hard-timers. Head down. Eyes focused on the floor directly in front of him. His physical periphery subtly spoke a body language that was rough but understood. He might have well-worn it along with his orange prisoner’s clothes. It said back off.

He slowly sat in front of me, the thick glass partition separating us. I picked up the phone and waited for him to do the same. He did, holding a look that didn’t waiver.

“My name’s O’Brien.”

“Suppose I owe you a thank you.”

“You owe me nothing.”

“All the same, much obliged.”

“I heard what you told the detectives about the shooting.”

“Lot a good that did.”

“I brought something to show you.” I opened a file folder and lifted out one of the photographs I printed from Molly’s camera. It was a close shot of Frank Soto. I watched Palmer’s eyes as I held the picture to the glass. “Do you recognize this man?”

Palmer studied the image for a few seconds. “Yeah, that’s the guy I saw that night when the hippies were at the bonfire.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. I remember faces. I mess around with charcoal, pencil and some pen ‘n ink. I had an old con teach me how to draw people. I always drew as a kid. I sorta got a way of seeing a face and spitting it out on paper. And I can do it pretty fast.”

“You’re an artist?”

“I’m not a con artist. Seen plenty of them in prison. I guess I’m just a guy who’s always liked to draw.” Palmer smiled. “One time I drew the faces of almost all the men in the cellblock. Did it for practice.”

“You said you saw the face of the man who shot Molly and Mark?”

“Yeah.”

“Can you draw that face?”

“Suppose I could, if I had a pencil and some paper.”

“How long would it take you?”

“About ten minutes.”

I looked at the clock on the wall. I had twenty minutes left with Palmer. “Wait there a second.” I dropped the phone and stepped to a guard. “I need a piece of paper and a pencil.”

“What for?”

I told him and he said, “Pencil could be considered a weapon.”

“Palmer is going to sketch a quick picture for us. He’ll hand the pencil back to you when he’s done. You can watch him the entire time.”

“I don’t know—”

“The drawing he does could help us find a guy who killed three people and probably will kill at least one more.”

“I’m going to watch him like a hawk.”

“I think he’s used to that.”

The guard went into another room, came back with a pencil and a piece of 8 1/2 by 11-inch white paper. He placed the material in front of Palmer.

“Were you in a position to have seen any identifying features?” I asked Palmer.

“Close enough. One thing you learn in a prison yard is how to look for identifying features, like the way a man carries himself.

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