Patricia Potter - Cassidy and the Princess

“Don’t try too hard,” he said. “Just watch and see if any ring a bell in your head.”

He had an easy way about him, and she found herself nodding and relaxing. Several more pages, then an impression…nothing more.

“Stop,” she said. “I’m not sure, but something about that face…”

It was a square face, heavy jowled. She stared at it for a moment, trying to remember more, to see more. Fear was crawling up her spine. What was it about that facial type?

The artist waited a few more moments, then suggested quietly, “Why don’t we try some eyes?”

A half-hour later, they had a picture. But she couldn’t say whether it was actually her assailant or a mishmash of memorable features that lingered in her mind. “I’m just not sure,” she admitted.

“You’ve done very well, Miss Merrick,” the artist said. “I’ll bet anything that when we find this man, there will be a resemblance.”

When we find him. If they found him.

Detective MacKay had not uttered a word during the entire time. Perhaps he had not wanted to break her concentration. But she had known he was there, and that had made her feel safe.

Now he came over to the bed. “Thank you,” he said in the rumbling deep voice that somehow gave her confidence in him. “That will be helpful.”

“I don’t know how,” she said.

“We have a lot of information we didn’t have before,” he said. “We know he’s familiar with hospital routine. He came in here during change of shifts when no one was likely to be in. He wears latex gloves. That’s probably where the smell came from. We finally have some leads. Thanks to you.”

“What now?” she asked.

“Perhaps you should go to Seattle.”

“You thought there was a chance he would come after me.”

His silence told her it was indeed a worry.

“If he came after me once, he’ll come again.”

Again a silence.

“What about using me as bait?” There. It was said. “That’s what you were thinking earlier.”

“You don’t know what I was thinking, Miss Merrick, and it’s a really lousy idea.”

“It’s the only way I can go on with my life.”

“It’ll be damn dangerous. I’m not sure I can get approval from my boss.”

She swallowed hard. The police artist was watching the exchange with interest. MacKay was frowning. He looked intimidating when he did that.

“Will you ask him?” she said.

“What about your mother and…partner?”

“I’ll manage that.”

“They could get hurt.”

“Not if they go on to Seattle.”

His face must have expressed his doubts. “They’ll leave? Without you?”

“Leave that to me,” she said. “Can you arrange it?”

He hesitated.

“I trust you,” she persisted.

“You don’t know me.”

“I know what I need to know. You went out of your way last night to make sure I was safe. You said you had a feeling and you came.”

His eyes measured her. “I’ll talk to the captain,” he said. “In the meantime, you should be safe enough. My partner, Manny, will stay in the room with you, and there are two uniforms outside. If you return to the hotel, Manny goes with you.”

“And you?”

“I’m going to talk to my superiors.”

“And get some sleep,” she said.

He rubbed his face with his hands. “Guess I could use a shave, too.”

A knock came, and the other detective entered, the one she remembered from yesterday. “Miss Merrick,” he said with concern. “Hoppy said someone came into your room last night, and—”

“Hoppy?” she interrupted.

He looked over at MacKay and his face turned red. Detective MacKay glared at him.

“Hoppy?” she asked again with a smile.

“His first name is Cassidy,” the detective named Manny said without looking at his partner, who was glowering.

The name didn’t mean anything to her.

“Hopalong Cassidy,” the detective prompted. “He was a cowboy on television in the fifties, a guy in a white hat.”

A guy in a white hat. She liked that image.

“Hoppy,” she tested again, and MacKay turned his glower on her.

“I prefer Cass,” he said.

She did, too, after thinking about it. Still, she tried to think of him as MacKay. That fit him, and it was far less personal.

The artist had packed up his equipment. “Gotta go,” he said. “A lot of business today. You were great, Miss Merrick.”

She felt a momentary pride. He had discovered more information that she thought she had. “You’re good at extracting information,” she said.

Detective MacKay was also inching toward the door. “Thank you, Miss Merrick,” he said. “I’ll be in touch later today.”

She watched him leave with the police artist.

The second detective looked at her with interest. “My wife is a big admirer of yours,” he said. “So am I.”

That surprised her. She hadn’t imagined a burly homicide detective would have an interest in figure skating. “Thank you,” she said.

“My wife, she loves figure skating,” he continued. “It sorta grew on me, too. And our kid.”

Just then, the door opened and her mother and Paul entered, eyeing the detective warily.

“I’ll be outside,” the detective said.

She wanted to ask him to stay, but this, she knew, was something she had to do alone.

“Thank you,” she said.

The two waited until the door closed.

“We talked to your doctor,” her mother said. “He said there’s no reason you can’t leave today. And you can start skating in several days.”

“We still have the plane on standby,” Paul added. “And now that you’ve talked to that police artist, you’ve done everything you can do.”

“Not exactly,” she said.

They both stared at her as if she’d grown two heads.

“I might remember more,” she said lamely. She wasn’t ready to tell them she’d offered herself as bait for a trap.

“You probably won’t,” Paul said sensibly. “If you do, you can contact them from Seattle.”

“I’m just not ready yet,” she said. “There are more questions…”

“We’ve lost days,” Paul said patiently. “We need practice.”

“You go ahead,” she said. “You and Mom. You can start practicing. I’ll be there in two or three days. I promise to be there for the competition.”

“If you insist on staying,” Paul said, “I’ll stay. We can practice here.”

“You said it would be several days before I can skate,” she said. “You need the time to get accustomed to the rink. And Mother needs to be there for publicity and to scout the competition. You two and David can make adjustments in the routine. And make sure the costumes are ready.” There was a different set of costumes for the Sectional. And a new program. It would have some of the elements they were perfecting here in Atlanta, but changes were always made.

“I’m not sure…”

Her mother was not often unsure of anything, but she was weakening. The costumes were her pride and joy. She’d designed them for the past six years.

“The detectives can’t properly protect me if they have to watch out for all of us,” Marise said. “Doing it this way will get me to Seattle much faster.”

“I don’t like it. You shouldn’t be alone,” her mother countered.

“I won’t be alone,” she said patiently. “I will be surrounded by the entire police department.”

“The publicity…”

“You can tell them I decided to stay and recuperate here,” she said. “Just think how bad the publicity would be if someone tracked me to Seattle and killed me.” She regretted the words almost immediately, when tears formed in her mother’s eyes. She went over to her and took her hands in her own. “I couldn’t be safer,” she said. “This really is for the best.”