"Owner, right. Chief cook and bottle washer. I've had the store for ten years. Same location. Almost eleven."
Unnecessary information. Often a sign of deception. But it also could simply have been offered because he was uneasy at the unexpected appearance of two cops. One of the most important rules in kinesics is that a single gesture or behavior means very little. You can't accurately judge a response in isolation but only by looking at "clusters"--for instance, the body language of crossing one's arms has to be considered in light of the subject's eye contact, hand movement, tone of voice and the substance of what he's saying, as well as his choice of words.
And to be meaningful, the behavior has to be consistent when the same stimuli are repeated.
Kinesic analysis, Kathryn Dance would lecture, isn't about home runs; it's about a consistently well-played game.
"How can I help you? Police, huh? Another robbery around the neighborhood?"
Sellitto glanced at Dance, who didn't respond but gave a laugh and looked around. "I have never seen so many clocks in one place in my life."
"Been selling them for a long time."
"Are these all for sale?"
"Make me an offer I can't refuse." A laugh. Then: "Seriously, some I wouldn't sell. But most, sure. Hey, it's a store, right?"
"That one is beautiful."
He glanced at the one she was indicating. An Art Nouveau style in gold metal, with a simple face. "Seth Thomas, made in nineteen oh five. Stylish, dependable."
"Expensive?"
"Three hundred. It's only gold plate, mass produced. . . . Now, you want expensive?" Hallerstein pointed to a ceramic clock, in pink, blue and purple, painted with flowers. Dance found it irritatingly gaudy. "Five times as much."
"Ah."
"I see that reaction. But in the clock collecting world, one man's tacky is another man's art." He smiled. The caution and concern weren't gone but Hallerstein was slightly less defensive.
She frowned. "At noon what do you do? Wear earplugs?"
A laugh. "Most of them, you can shut the chimes off. The cuckoos're the ones that drive me crazy. So to speak."
She asked a few more questions about his business, filing away a library of gestures and glances and tones and words--establishing the baseline for his behavior.
Finally, keeping her tone conversational, she asked, "Sir, we'd like to know: Did someone recently buy two clocks like this one?" She showed him the picture of one of the Arnold Products clocks left at the crime scenes. Her eyes scanned him as he stared at the photo, his face neutral. She decided he was studying it for too long, an indication that his mind was engaged in a debate.
"Can't say I recall. I sell a lot of clocks, believe me."
Faulty memory--a flag for the stress state of denial in a deceptive person, just like Ari Cobb earlier. His eyes scanned the photo again carefully, as if trying to be helpful, but his shoulder turned toward her slightly, his head dipped and his voice rose in pitch. "No, I really don't think so. Sorry, I can't help."
She sensed he was deceptive, not only from the kinesics but his recognition response (in his case, the neutral visage, which deviated from his expressive baseline); most likely he knew the clock. But was he deceptive because he simply didn't want to get involved, or because he sold clocks to someone he thought might be a criminal, or because he was involved in the killings himself?
Hands clasped in front of her, or purse on the counter?
In determining personality type, Dance had categorized the reluctant witness earlier, Cobb, as an extrovert; Hallerstein was the opposite, an introvert, someone who makes decisions based on intuition and emotion. She drew this conclusion about the dealer because of his clear passion for his clocks and the fact he was only a moderately successful businessman (he'd rather sell what he loved than run a mass-market operation and make more profit).
To get an introvert to tell the truth, she'd have to bond with him, make him feel comfortable. An attack like the one on Cobb would make Hallerstein freeze up instantly.
Dance sighed, her shoulders slumping. "You were our last hope." She sighed, glancing at Sellitto, who, bless him, gave a good portrayal of a disappointed cop, shaking his head with a grimace.
"Hope?" Hallerstein asked.
"The man who bought these clocks committed a very serious crime. They're the only real leads we have."
The concern that blossomed in Hallerstein's face seemed genuine but Kathryn Dance had met a lot of good actors. She put the paper back into her purse. "Those clocks were found next to his murder victims."
Eyes frozen for a moment. This is one stressed-out shopkeeper we've got ourselves here.