The Cold Moon

kinesics and interviewing. He’d probably voted against calling her.
    As for Dance herself, well, she recognized the value of physical evidence, but it had no appeal to her. It was the human side of crime and crime solving that made her own heart race.
    Kinesics versus forensics . . .
    Fair enough, Detective Rhyme.
    While the handsome, sardonic and impatient criminalist continued to gaze at the evidence charts, Dance absorbed the details of the case, which was a strange one. The murders by the self-anointed Watchmaker were horrific, sure, but Dance wasn’t shocked. She’d worked cases that were just as gruesome. And, after all, she lived in California, where Charles Manson had set the standard for evil.
    Another detective from the NYPD, Dennis Baker, now told her specifically what they needed. They’d found a witness who might have some helpful information but he wasn’t forthcoming with details.
    “He claims he didn’t see anything,” Sachs added. “But I have a feeling he did.”
    Dance was disappointed that it wasn’t a suspect but a witness she’d be interviewing. She preferred the challenge of confronting criminals, and the more deceitful the better. Still, interviewing witnesses took much less time than breaking suspects and she couldn’t miss her flight.
    “I’ll see what I can do,” she told them. She fished in her Coach purse and put on round glasses with pale pink frames.
    Sachs gave her the details about Ari Cobb, the reluctant witness, laying out the chronology of the man’s evening, as they’d been able to piece it together, and his behavior that morning.
    Dance listened carefully as she sipped coffee that Rhyme’s caregiver had poured for her and indulged in half a Danish.
    When she’d gotten all the background Dance organized her thoughts. Then she said to them, “Okay, let me tell you what I’ve got in mind. First, a crash course. Lon heard this yesterday at the seminar but I’ll let the rest of you know how I handle interviewing. Kinesics traditionally was studying somebody’s physical behavior—body language—to understand their emotional state and whether they were being deceptive or not. Most people, including me, use the term now to mean all forms of communication—not just body language but spoken comments and written statements too.
    “First, I’ll take a baseline reading of the witness—see how he acts when he’s answering things that we know are truthful—name, address, job, things like that. I’ll note his gesturing, posture, word choice and the substance of what he says.
    “Once I have the baseline I’ll start asking questions and find out where he exhibits stress reactions. Which means he’s either lying or has some important issues with the topic I’m asking him about. Up until then, what I’ve been doing is ‘interviewing’ him. Once I suspect he’s lying, then the session will become an ‘interrogation.’ I start to whittle away at him, using a lot of different techniques, until we get to the truth.”
    “Perfect,” said Baker. Although Rhyme was apparently in charge, Dennis Baker, Dance deduced, was from headquarters; he had the belabored look of a man on whose shoulders an investigation like this ultimately—and politically—rested.
    “You have a map of the area we’re talking about,” Dance said. “I’d like to know the geography of the area involved. You can’t be an effective interrogator without it. I like to say I need to know the subject’s terrarium.”
    Lon Sellitto gave a fast laugh. Dance smiled in curiosity. He explained, “Lincoln says exactly the same about forensics. If you don’t know the geography, you’re working in a vacuum. Right, Linc?”
    “Sorry?” the criminalist asked.
    “Terrarium, you like that?”
    “Ah.” His polite smile was the equivalent of Dance’s son saying, “Whatever.”
    Dance examined the map of lower Manhattan, memorizing the detailsof the crime scene and of Ari Cobb’s afterwork schedule the previous day, as Sachs and a young patrol officer, named Pulaski, pointed them out.
    Finally she felt comfortable with the facts. “Okay, let’s get to work. Where is he?”
    “A room across the hall.”
    “Bring him in.”

Chapter 7
    A moment later an NYPD patrol officer brought in a short, trim businessman wearing an expensive suit. Dance didn’t know if they’d actually arrested him but the way he touched his wrists told her that he’d been in cuffs recently.
    Dance greeted the