The Steel Kiss (Lincoln Rhyme 12)

"'Lincoln' is fine. Go on."

"The unsub saw some tools the store had for sale and asked about them. They were specialized ones. Like the kind used for crafts."

Sachs asked, "Crafts? What sort of crafts?"

"Hobbies. Model airplanes, things like that. Razor knives and saws and very small sanders. He bought a set of miniature clamps. He'd been looking for ones like them. The store he usually shops at didn't have them in stock."

"Good. I like 'usually.' That means he's a regular. Did he mention the name?"

"No. Just said it was in Queens."

Rhyme shouted, "Somebody find me all the crafts stores in Queens. Now!"

"Thanks, Officer." Sachs disconnected the call.

A moment later a map was on the biggest of the monitors. There were sixteen crafts stores indicated in the borough of Queens.

"Which one?" Rhyme muttered.

Sachs leaned forward, her hand on the back of his chair. She pointed. "That one."

"How do you know?"

"Because it's three subway stops away from the MTA station near the White Castle in Queens, where he always went for lunch after shopping."

Crafts 4 Everyone didn't quite live up to its name.

No yarn, no floral art foam, no finger paints.

But if you wanted to build model ships or spacecraft or doll house furniture this was your emporium.

Fragrant with the smell of paint and wood and cleansers, the shop featured jam-packed shelves filled with supplies and tools. More Dremel power tools and balsa wood than Amelia Sachs had ever seen in one place. A lot of Star Wars characters, creatures and vehicles. Star Trek too.

She showed her gold shield to the young man behind the counter, good looking, more like an athlete than a, well, clerk in a nerd store.

"Yes?" His voice did, however, crack.

She explained she was trying to find someone for questioning in connection with a series of crimes. She described the unsub, asked if anyone had recently bought mahogany, walnut, Bond-Strong and Braden Rich-Cote varnish. Craft tools too.

"He'd be smart," Sachs said. "Well spoken." Thinking of the unsub's attempts to obscure his intelligence in his rants against consumerism.

"Well, you know," the clerk said, swallowed and continued, "there is somebody. But he's quiet, polite. I can't imagine he'd do anything wrong."

"What's his name?"

"I just know his first name. Vernon."

"He fits the description?"

"Tall and thin, yeah. Kind of weird."

"Any credit card receipts?"

"He always pays cash."

She then asked, "You have any idea where he lives?"

"Manhattan, I think in Chelsea. He mentioned that once."