Sketch of a Murder

Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Seated at a round table at the back of a tiny coffee shop on First Avenue, Nita looked up from the letter and cocked a brow at Dawn. "You have a fan."

The corners of Dawn's mouth inched upward. "The dream of every red-blooded, American girl-her very own serial killer."

Nita slanted her eyes towards the plastic-protected page. "This one delivered to your office mailbox, too?"

Dawn gave a quick shake of her head. "I went home after filing my story and crashed. Didn't get up until a couple of hours ago. When I started out the door to go to the office, our security guard waved me over. Seems he found this letter on the counter with my name on it when he got back from doing rounds."

Worry furrowed Nita's forehead. "Isn't access to your building's lobby restricted?"

"Absolutely."

"Do other residents let people walk in behind them, or buzz them in from their apartments without knowing who it is?"

She started a slow head wag before Nita finished. "Not that kind of building. We're all condo owners. It's a co-op. All the residents are very security conscious. That's why we have day and night security guards."

"Security tapes?"

Dawn pulled her handbag from the back of the wrought iron chair, scooted her coffee cup to one side and plopped the colorful monstrosity in the center of the glass-topped table. It took up most of the table. After a minute of rooting around in its depths, she triumphantly extracted a DVD case. "Better than tapes." She grinned as she handed the disc to Nita. "That's your copy."

After she hung her handbag back on the chair, she pointed a finger at the DVD. "I'll tell you now that I stared at that darn thing for an hour. Our mailperson is there, but it isn't going to help us."

"Why not?"

"He appears to be aware of where both entrance cams are located. He makes sure all we see is a quick flash of a hunched figure in dark clothes, with gloves on, messing with the door and then entering and placing an envelope on the counter before exiting. Even the way he walks seems deliberately managed to deny any hint of individuality."

Nita ran her hand through her hair. It felt strange, but nice, to wear it loose, and she wondered why she did it. Dad had loved her hair loose. When he left it seemed less bothersome to use a barrette to keep it out of her face. "I have a bad feeling about this case."

Dawn dipped her chin towards the paper in front of Nita. "That's an invitation too good for a girl to snub."

"You aren't really considering meeting with The Avenger, are you?" Nita waited, holding absolutely still, knowing intuitively what was coming.

Arms crossed and braced on the table, Dawn leaned towards the detective.

Nita could practically see her pulling her determination around her like medieval armor.

"This is the best opportunity any of us might ever get to hear what The Avenger wants to say, to understand how anyone could become so twisted." She waved a hand at the letter. "He spelled out the conditions for the meeting with me."

Nita exploded, throwing her hands up in the air. "He spelled out a death trap for you!"

She held up a hand, palm out. "Please, let me finish."

Eyebrows drawn tight, mouth curved downward, Nita nodded.

"I am attending this meeting." Voice deep and intense, Dawn stared at her. "And no, you are not tailing me. You are not wiring me. The Avenger spelled out very clear instructions. I..."