Sebastian caught up with Gus Meinhart, the police detective he had been speaking with earlier. “Hey, Gus, you got a quick minute?”
“Sure, Sebastian, what’s up?”
“I was wondering. Could I possibly get a copy of the photo your guy took of the victim?”
“That’s kind of odd, Sebastian. Even for you. May I ask why?”
“I want to take it to someone I know who has an age progression program to se if he can reverse the process. Something about this old woman seems familiar somehow.”
“Why didn’t you say so! I can do you one better than giving you the photo. I can have one of the guys at headquarters run the photoshop, for lack of a better word, for you. Get in the car. I’m heading over there now.”
“Terrific, Gus! I didn’t know ya’ll were so high-tech.”
“Watch what you say, boy, we may not be New York, but we all have color TV down here,” Gus quipped. “Wait here a minute. I see our guy is still here. I’ll tell him to meet us over there.”
Sebastian stood outside of the car and watched Gus walk over the an older guy carrying a camera. After a brief conversation, Gus returned.
“He’ll meet us there in a half hour, Sebastian. Is there anywhere else you’d like to go while we wait?”
“Actually, before we leave, could we take another look at the house she apparently fell from?”
“Be my guest.”
Sebastian walked with the detective over to the house, but Sebastian’s eyes were on the townhouse across the street. He tripped on a brick that had shifted in its place in the street and nearly fell down.
“Watch yourself now, Sebastian. The precint can’t afford a civilian injury.”
“Sorry, Gus. I got distracted I guess.”
“You guess? You have taken your eyes off that house since we started over here. You haven’t even so much as glance at the house you said you wanted to see. You gonna tell me what has you soo spellbound?”
“Nothing really, Gus, except some broken glass here in the street near the curb.”
“That’s nothng unusual, Sebastian. There’s got to be more to it that that.”
“Well, there’s that pair of broken french doors up there. Probably where this glass fell from. Interesting don’t you think, Gus?”
“Yeah, sure. A real rubic’s cube.”
“Anyone live in this ol’ place that you know of, Gus?”
“I don’t know hin as such. Some ol’ guy. Lives alone near as I can tell. Says he’s a duke or something. I think he’s a little off his nut, but harmless.”
“I met someone yesterday who told me he lives here. Invited me to come to call. I thought the place was empty, so I was surprised when he gave me his card.”
“I think I’d toss that card and forget about it. Like I said, I think he’s a bit touched,” Gus said as he pointed to his temple. “Shall we go now?”
“Yeah, let’s see that magic your guy can work on that photo. Know what, Gus? I think you should have somebody sweep up this glass and take a look at it. Might find something interesting.”
As they approached a couple of police officer that were taking down the yellow tape, Gus ordered, “Murphy, how about you and your partner there get someone from forensics to sweep up that broken glass over there and take it to the lab.”
“Sure thing, Detective.” The two stopped what they were doing to find someone from CSI to do the detective ordered.
Not long after arriving at headquarters, Sebastian had a copy of both the original photograph of the deceased woman as well as the simulated younger version. He thanked Gus and the photographer and left.
He hopped the St. Charles streetcar and took out the two photos to study them again. He was amazed at their similarity. After seeing both of them, it was surprisingly easy to see the younger woman in the older one’s face. He was convinced he had seen the younger face before. All he needed to do now was verify his suspicions as to her identity.
And then what? She was still alive yesterday when the he saw her face in the mirror. So how could she be who he wants her to be? Once again, more questions than answers.
Suddenly there came strains of that song again, the recording by Meatloaf. He looked up just in time to see car waiting for the streetcar to pass with the windows rolled down and the stereo playing. At first glance, Sebastian would have sworn the driver was Sean and he was smiling at Sebastian. Sebastian smiled back. The smile turned into a grimace when the impossibility of it being Sean registered and remembered how he felt about him. The music faded into eventual silence as the streetcar continued on its way.
Sebastian decided this was imagination not a vision. Sean was gone. Period. He returned the photos to the manila envelope, and anticipated his stop.
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