Judd drew circles and arrows to illustrate what he knew about extrasensory perception. If he really was clairvoyant, I had to say it was an impressive talent. Still, he didn’t seem to care that another person had died. And that his “talent” was useless unless it led to catching a killer.
“I have precognition,” Judd said. “I see events before they happen. Frankly, I don’t yet understand how I suddenly came to have this gift.”
The professor was musing. He’d gone into his head—a scary, mysterious, and also tedious place to be.
A good interrogator befriends the subject, flatters him, encourages him to talk, hoping he’ll trap himself in a lie or make a confession.
But patience was my partner’s forte, not mine.
I was overtired and in a bad mood. Also, I couldn’t stand this guy.
I slapped Janet Rice’s photo ID down on the table and said, “Do you know this woman?”
“Is this the driver who was shot?”
“Yes. This is our victim. Janet Rice. Married. Two children. Churchgoer. Taxpayer. Home owner. Employee of the city of San Francisco. Friend to many, enemy to none. Do you recognize her?”
“She’s not the person I envisioned. So … what could this mean?”
“Have you seen her before?” I asked for the third time.
“No. Never.”
“Where were you this morning between eleven and twelve noon?”
“I told you, Sergeant Boxer. I was in class with thirty students,” Judd said. “We’re reading Anna Karenina.”
Conklin said, “Why do you suppose you saw a blond driver in your dream? I mean, this woman isn’t blond and she has never been blond. You think she was a victim of circumstance? She was just in the wrong place at the wrong time?”
“I am wondering the same thing, Inspector. But I have absolutely no idea.”
His sappy voice made my last nerve snap like an old guitar string.
“What happened inside that streetcar?” I said to the professor. I grabbed the pad and pencil away from him and drew an arrow off the word clairvoyance, encircled a bunch of question marks.
“Give us an educated guess. Maybe you have an idea that doesn’t involve extrasensory malarkey.”
Judd looked shocked. Then he got pissed.
“Don’t talk to me that way, Sergeant. I came here at your request and of my own volition. I’ve told you everything I know. Where’s the thanks I deserve?”
“You know about lucid dreaming?” I asked him.
“Well, yes. Lucid dreaming occurs when a person is conscious that he is having a dream. He’s lucid. According to the literature, if the dreamer is aware that he’s dreaming, he can change the direction, even the outcome of the dream.”
“Exactly.”
“Oh. I see.”
“Try lucid dreaming, would you, Professor Judd? Next time you’re in a dream, get your head on straight. Grab the gun. And then remember who the killer is and tell us. Thank you for coming in. Always a pleasure seeing you. Please don’t leave town.”
I flipped the pencil into the middle of the table, said to Conklin, “My baby is sick. I’m going home.”
Chapter 52
YUKI AND HER associate, Nicky Gaines, returned from the lunch recess a few minutes before court reconvened and took their seats.
Yuki had rested her case, and now it was the defense’s turn to present theirs. She hoped like mad that her case was strong enough to hold up no matter what Kinsela said to convince the jury that Keith Herman, a subhuman piece of garbage, was not guilty.