Free Eye Sleuth by Hazel Dawkins Page A

I’d gone down to Ground Zero to help. Heart-wrenching yet how could I stay away? Every Saturday and Sunday for the rest of September and much of October, I’d walked down to the gaping chasm where the Twin Towers had been. Once there, I irrigated the eyes of police and emergency workers with a basic saline solution. They stood patiently, sorrow in their eyes, words of thanks on their lips. Two hours in that thick, stinking smoke and I'd needed to treat my own eyes as well. My natural tears, which were plentiful, weren't enough.
    “Thank you,” I said, fascinated by his precise speech pattern and the accuracy of his comment. Allan was right, the detective did sound like a professor. A smart one. Not many people, unless they were optometrists, would have realized I’d irrigated the eyes of the first responders. This man was beyond observant. If he was eidetic, it was possible he also had compulsive tendencies, one way of coping with the vast storehouse of his mind.
    “Anything else?” Riley asked.
    I wasn’t going to mention the list I’d made but I changed my mind. Perhaps one of the detectives would say something helpful, so I took a chance and I described the three points I’d written down. Riley nodded as if he’d expected me to do something like that.
    “Were you looking for anything special?”
    “Clues would be good.”
    “Clues?”
    “Like why did that stranger warn me about danger.”
    “We may never know,” Riley said. “We contacted the victim’s family but they weren’t all that forthcoming, for whatever reason. Remember, this is police business. If you find any clues, as you put it, you must get in touch with us immediately.” He leaned forward to emphasize his words.
    “Detective Riley is correct, Dr. Kamimura,” Riley’s partner said gravely. “You must leave this matter in the hands of the police. It is our responsibility now, as is your safety. Your intrusion might jeopardize yourself and others as well as impede our activities.”
    Good grief. Had the man swallowed a dictionary? I left but my feeling was very different from the way I’d felt after the first interview. Clearly, I was part of a process. Obviously, Riley was dedicated to his work and I could empathize with that. After this second, mercifully brief interview, I didn’t feel a suspect, just someone who had to be interviewed. Still, even though both detectives had told me to keep my nose out of their business, I was determined to do what I could to find some answers––it was my business, too. Riley and Zeissing were sworn to protect and serve and they might lay down the law but damned if I’d play the passive part of the hunted. Time for me to do some hunting. How, what and where I didn’t know, but I was fairly sure I wasn’t going to get any answers or help from the police.
    Heading back to my office, I felt a lot better than I had before the interview.
    “Are you going to join us at lunchtime, Yoko? ”
    It was Matt Wahr, the college finance manager. He was in the hall outside Allan’s office and the IT specialist himself, Allan Barnes, stood in the doorway directly behind Matt.
    “I’m ordering sandwiches. Want your usual?” Allan asked.
    Allan’s current toy, a Bluetooth earpiece, was perched on his ear. Ever the techie, Allan had gone through a dizzying array of cell phones and other gadgets in his quest to keep up with the latest. He often had several of his latest toys in his pockets or, in this case, on his body.
    “Sure,” I said.
    “Make that two for the egg salad on a hard roll,“ Allan said, switching off his ear gizmo with a flick of his finger.
    I hid a smile at his trick of ordering the sandwich I favored––I never make egg salad. If Allan was trying to ingratiate himself with me, he’d have to think again. The weekly casual lunch, a get-together for most of us, was helpful for catching up with college news plus the food from the deli on Lexington Avenue was tasty. I don’t know what