Well, I could see some hope now. Even though I had lost Janet, I could at least give her justice by getting the killer caught. And this businessman seems to have seen the murderer. I guess Mr. Steve could observe that small tinge of hope in my eyes, because he immediately asked his assistant to call the sketch artists.
I had no clue what they could do in this situation. Probably they’d just create a physical representation of the businessman’s memory, whatever that guy’s name is.
For the next one hour, stuff that happened was not really of much importance. The cop’s assistant kept clicking pictures of the dead body that once used to be my wife. I didn’t feel like crying anymore. Probably the practical side of my brain had overtaken the emotional one, and now all I cared about was getting the killer behind bars. John sat at the other end of the room with a usual frown on his face.
I knew he wanted to kill me at this point of time, and he hated me more than any person in the world. But trust me, the feelings were completely mutual. Mr. Johnson had left after offering me a small amount of sympathy, and the others in the crowd were gradually leaving after seeking approval from Steve.
Finally, two sketch artists arrived with all possible artistic things in their hands, ranging from paints and paintbrushes to huge canvas boards. The businessman seemed to have a calm state of mind now, as opposed to the panicky one a couple of hours back.
The sketching process began. The businessman, while giving the description seemed like the personification of confusion. He kept mumbling random nonsense, scratching his bald head every now and then. I pitied that businessman and offered him some water, just to be nice. The artists seemed pretty frustrated, but probably they were as scared of Steve as his assistant was. Meanwhile, the remaining spectators also left, and the only people left in that room were Steve, John, his assistant, the businessman, the artists and myself.
After almost two or three hours, the sketching process was complete. I had fallen asleep, and the rays of the sun had woke me up. John was fast asleep when I woke up. Steve lifted the canvas board and came towards me.
“Mr. Robert, do you know this man?”
I was still half asleep, and squinted at the board. I could finally see the picture clearly.