"He very tall and very skinny. Weird, don't you know?"
"Any--"
"Distinguishing characteristics?" he blurted.
"Yes."
"No, no, couldn't see much. Hat on. Braves. The team, don't you know?"
"Yes, we know." Pulaski was looking around, taking in the empty street. Warehouses, small offices. Nothing residential or retail. He turned back to his notebook, in which he was transcribing whatever the man had to say.
"Sunglasses, he wore too."
"Hair color?"
"Lighter, I think. But, the hat. You know."
"And his clothes?"
&n
bsp; "Green jacket, yellow-green. Dark pants. And a backpack. Oh, and a bag."
"Bag?"
"Plastic. Like he bought something and they put it in bag. He look in bag a couple times, I driving him."
Charlotte had said the same.
"Any logo on the bag?"
"Logo?"
"Store name, picture? Smiley face."
"Emoji! No."
"How big was the bag?" Sachs asked.
"Not big. Strawberries."
"He had strawberries?" Pulaski wondered.
"No, no. I mean about size of package of strawberries. Just thinking that. Or blueberries, or salad dressing or a large can of tomatoes. That big," Eduardo said, beaming. "Exactly."
"Any idea what was in it?"
"No. Hear something metal. Click, a click. Oh, and those burgers! A dozen White Castles! A dozen!"
"Did he make any phone calls?"
"No. But he kind of talk to himself. I told you that on phone. I could not hear good. First, I say, 'What that, sir?' Thinking he talking to me. But he said, 'Nothing.' I meaning, he said something. 'Nothing' was what he said. Don't you know? And then he quiet after that. Just look out window. Wouldn't look at me. So couldn't really see scars. You always like scars. Police. Distinguishing things. But didn't see any."
Pulaski asked, "Did he have an accent?"
"Yes."
"What was it?"