The Paperhanger and the Artist – Part 4

The Adams State College (it wasn’t a university yet) Department of Public Safety hadn’t changed much. It was still in the old Casa de Sol apartment complex behind the College Radio Station. A patrol car was parked outside. The old apartment complex and the tables and chairs on the porch gave it more a Mayberry Sheriff’s Office vibe.

A lot of the students thought of the officers as on the same level as Barney Fife. Behind their backs, they often called them Barneys. But do something wrong, and they’d find out these guys were every bit as high speed as any other department.

“I’ve never been here,” Emily said.

“I thought you went to Adams State,” I said.

She smiled. “I behaved myself while I was here.”

I opened the door and let her go on in ahead of me. A young man sat at the desk and he smiled as Emily came in. The smile faded when I followed. Time for him to turn professional.

“Hi,” I said. “We’re here to see Niles.”

He nodded. “He’s expecting you.” He picked up the phone and punched in an intercom number. “Sgt. Pearson. Your appointment is here.” He put the phone down. “He’ll be right up.”

A moment later, Niles Pearson came up front. He was the same man I’d remembered from years before. A little older, a little thicker around the middle, but still the same friendly smile as always.

“Rich,” he said. “it’s good to see you again.”

“Same, Niles,” I said.

“I hadn’t known you were in the Army till I saw the sign welcoming you home.”

“The one in front of the Loaf and Jug?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s good to be back.”

I introduced him to Emily. “She’s our witness in this case.”

“Glad to meet you,” he said, shaking her hand. “Let’s go back to the conference room.”

That had changed. Once it had been a squad room with desks. Now it had a large wooden table with chairs and a coffee bar.

A wooden box, a pad, and a manual were sitting on the table.

“Oh, you’ve got an Identi-Kit,” I said. Had I known, I’d have borrowed the kit.

“Yeah. Can’t draw as well as I used to. Getting old,” he explained.

Niles had about fifteen years on me when I’d met him. That put him into his 50s now.

“Let me tell you how this works,” he said, after getting Emily seated. He opened the box. “You give me a basic description of the guy, and I put together a face. It’s going to be pretty generic, and I’d be surprised if we get in on the first try. In the box is all kinds of templates. Eyes, noses, mouths, hair, jaw lines and so on.

“You’ll look at the picture and one by one, we’ll change what’s wrong with it. The book there shows the different eyes, mouths, and so on.”

“Never saw this done,” she said, “except on TV, of course.”

Niles smiled. “Those guys get a lot of help from their screenwriters and directors. I’d expect it to take at least an hour before we get it right.”

I knew from experience that making the face was about as exciting as watching paint dry.

“Here’s my cell number,” I said writing it down. “I think I’ll take a walk down memory lane.”

I walked out and crossed the street towards the three-story Social Studies building. The minute I crossed it was like I’d walked through some weird time warp. The smell of the grass, and the chimes on the clock swept me back to an earlier time. A time when my biggest worry was the grade I was getting in calculus. Or if I had enough money for coffee.

I found a bench on the west side of the building. There I could enjoy the sun and watch the world walk by.

I’d been sitting there for a while when I heard the west door open. A man walked out, tall, thin, and bald as cue ball. He saw me and smiled.

“Rich Muniz,” Dr. Lynn Weldon said. As I rose to greet him, he came towards me, his hand out.

“Dr. Weldon,” I said. I took the hand. He was older, a little slower, but the warmth in his smile was still there.

“You’re old enough to call me Lynn, now,” he said. “Where have you been?”

He didn’t know.

“Come on,” I said. “Sit with me for a while if you can.”

“Sure.” He joined me on the bench.

“I’m surprised you remember me,” I said.

“You were a good student. Someone looking for answers.” Then he asked. “Where did you go?”

“I was in New Mexico for a couple of years and then I went into the Army.”

That seemed to surprise him. “You never struck me as a soldier type.”

“It always interested me,” I said. “Truth be told, I had to do it.”

“Why had to?”

“The official excuse is I needed a job. Truth is, I needed to figure out who I was.”

“And?”

“And I think Kurt Vonnegut would love me,” I said. “But how you been. You look good.”

The smile melted away. “I’m getting old, Rich,” he said. “I’m retiring soon.”

“That’s too bad. They’ll lose one hell of good teacher up here.”

“It’s time. Teachers have an expiration date. And it’s time to clear the shelf.”

I nodded. The same was true of cops. “I learned a lot from you.”

“You didn’t learn anything. You discovered it on your own. I just challenged you,” he said. “What brings you up here?”

“Working a case. Niles Pearson is making a sketch on a case I’m working.”

|”That’s the other thing I never expected. You a Police Officer.”

“To much of a wuss?” I asked.

“Too uncertain of yourself.” The answer was that of a good friend. That was one thing I’d always liked about him. You knew where you stood.

“And now?”

He studied me for a moment before answering. “You look like a man who’s been beat up by the world.”

I nodded. “A lot’s happened,” I said.

“Were you in Iraq?”

“Up to my eyeballs.”

“Some advice?”

“Shoot.”

“Talk it out. Then give it God. He’ll lift you up.”

My cell rang. “Muniz,” I answered.

“We have a face,” Niles said.

“I’ll be right there.”

I stood. “Lynn,” I said standing up. “It’s so good to see you again.”

“You too.” He fumbled in his wallet and gave me a card. “Give me call. We’ll go out and have coffee and a roll.”

Sounds like a plan. I shook hands with my teacher and went back to the Public Safety Office.

When I got there, Niles was running off a dozen copies of the face for me.

“Took us a little less time than I expected,” he said. He handed me one of the Xerox copies he’d made.

I looked the sketch over. I’d seen more interesting slices of bread. You could have had lunch with the guy and twenty minutes later not recalled anything about him. No wonder he’d gotten away so far.

The picture had a series of numbers along the side. Those were the template numbers that had been used to construct the face.

And we’d gotten here because he’d flirted with a pretty girl who filed him away under Total Creep.

“Let me know if you get him,” Niles said.

“I will. Coffee?”

“let me know when and where.”

I took Emily home and went right to the office. I added the pictures to the case file, and faxed another to Andy.

It had been a long day and I went home.