I watched. The man took a final draw on his drink, tilting his head far back and emptying the glass. He then slipped off his stool, helped Campo off hers and they walked out of the camera frame to the right.
“What?” I said. “What did I miss?”
Levin moved the image backwards until he got to the moment the unknown man was finishing his drink. He then froze the image and pointed to the screen. The man had his left hand down flat on the bar for balance as he reared back to drink.
“He drinks with his right hand,” he said. “And on his left you can see a watch on his wrist. So it looks like the guy is right-handed, right?”
“Yeah, so? What does that get us? The injuries to the victim came from blows from the left.”
“Think about what I’ve told you.”
I did. And after a few moments I got it.
“The mirror. Everything’s backwards. He’s left-handed.”
Levin nodded and made a punching motion with his left fist.
“This could be the whole case right here,” I said, not sure that was a good thing.
“Happy Saint Paddy’s Day, lad,” Levin said in his brogue again, not realizing I might be staring at the end of the gravy train.
I took a long drink of hot coffee and tried to think about a strategy for the video. I didn’t see any way to hold it for trial. The cops would eventually get around to the follow-up investigations and they would find out about it. If I held on to it, it could blow up in my face.
“I don’t know how I’m going to use it yet,” I said. “But I think it’s safe to say Mr. Roulet and his mother and Cecil Dobbs are going to be very happy with you.”
“Tell them they can always express their thanks financially.”
“All right, anything else on the tape?”
Levin started to fast-forward the playback.
“Not really. Roulet reads the napkin and memorizes the address. He then hangs around another twenty minutes and splits, leaving a fresh drink on the bar.”
He slowed the image down at the point Roulet was leaving. Roulet took one sip out of his fresh martini and put it down on the bar. He picked up the napkin Reggie Campo had given him, crumpled it in his hand and then dropped it to the floor as he got up. He left the bar, leaving the drink behind.
Levin ejected the DVD and returned it to its plastic sleeve. He then turned off the player and started to put it away.
“That’s it on the visuals that I can show you here.”
I reached forward and tapped Earl on the shoulder. He had his sound buds in. He pulled out one of the ear plugs and looked back at me.
“Let’s head back to the courthouse,” I said. “Keep your plugs in.”
Earl did as instructed.
“What else?” I said to Levin.
“There’s Reggie Campo,” he said. “She’s not Snow White.”
“What did you find out?”
“It’s not necessarily what I found out. It’s what I think. You saw how she was on the tape. One guy leaves and she’s dropping love notes on another guy alone at the bar. Plus, I did some checking. She’s an actress but she’s not currently working as an actress. Except for private auditions, you could say.”
He handed me a professional photo collage that showed Reggie Campo in different poses and characters. It was the kind of photo sheet sent to casting directors all over the city. The largest photo on the sheet was a head shot. It was the first time I had seen her face up close without the ugly bruises and swelling. Reggie Campo was a very attractive woman and something about her face was familiar to me but I could not readily place it. I wondered if I had seen her in a television show or a commercial. I flipped the head shot over and read her credits. They were for shows I never watched and commercials I didn’t remember.
“In the police reports she lists her current employer as Topsail Telemarketing. They’re over in the Marina. They take the calls for a lot of the crap they sell on late-night TV. Workout machines and stuff like that. Anyway, it’s day work. You work when you want. The only thing is, Reggie hasn’t worked a day there for five months.”
“So what are you telling me, she’s been tricking?”
