The Colors of Hate – 12

“We have a description of the man Ms Westcott was last seen with, but no name,” Officer John Ferron said, as soon as Reid and Kirby returned to the station house. “Tall, about six-one according to at least three of the witnesses, dark brown hair, well but casually dressed, two say hazel eyes, one says green…”

“Could be hazel then, with the right light making them greener,” Kirby pointed out.

“True,” John said before continuing. “One of the women said he had ‘kissable’ lips. When I asked what that meant she told me they were full and sexy.” 

Reid laughed. “That’s definitely a female description. Was this his first time at the club?”

John shook his head. “They all say he’s been there before, but doesn’t stay long. Just has a drink or two, danced once or twice, and then left.”

“With Ms Westcott this time, from what our witnesses told us,” Kirby said. “Has he left with anyone before?”

“No. I asked and the people I talked to said no—but he did leave with her. They’re all in agreement about that.”

Reid nodded. “We need to get a couple of them to meet with our sketch artist.”

John smiled. “I took the liberty of arranging that. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not in the least. I like officers who can actually think for themselves.” He turned to Kirby. “That description, such as it is so far, doesn’t match anyone from the theater.”

“If it had, then at least Mr Leads, Ms Travers and Mr Eckert would have said something, as they all watched him with Ms Westcott. No, I’d say he’s definitely an outsider to the group.”

“Don’t jump to conclusions, Reid. We’re talking actors here. It’s possible with good make-up and a wig someone could have fooled them. John, how well is the dance floor lit?”

“It’s darkish with lots of strobe lights flashing.”

“So, possibly, that doesn’t rule out one of the men in the company. We need to check alibis for anyone of them who wasn’t at the club.”

“No shit, Reid,” Kirby muttered.

“Sorry, I’m tired and going for the obvious statement.”

“Then let’s head out. It’s too late to be doing that tonight anyway. In the morning we’ll have working brains again, hopefully.”

“Sounds good to me. John, when are the people supposed to meet with the sketch artist?”

“Ten a.m.”

“All right. Thanks.” Reid picked up his jacket, slung it over his shoulder, and headed for the squad room door. After checking he hadn’t forgotten anything, Kirby followed with John right behind him.