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I want to talk to you about Sydney Harrison
I got the McEnny thing this morning. Damn it! I left my briefcase in the gift shop. I'm a mess today. You want me to hold the elevator?
Where's your Travel section?.
No. I'll see you up there. Okay.
Everything will be fine. It's under control.
Would you press six for me, please? It's going down. It is? Yeah.
I'll take a ride.
She bought her paper like usual. That was it.
Yeah. Thanks, Viv.
Do you remember seeing anyone suspicious? Suspicious? Hanging around, loitering, that sort of thing.
Two nights later, the police called. They say they found him unconscious.
No. I'm sorry. Okay, thank you. Give me the rundown.
Okay. The woman's name is Sydney Harrison. Forty-one years old, Caucasian, divorced, no children. Owns and runs a small employment agency on the sixth floor. She was on her way to work when someone grabbed her in the elevator.
What time? About 9:00. People on their way to work, crowded lobby, risky move. He could've staked her for days waiting for the right time. Did he take her through the garage? Looks that way. We've got no witnesses. What have you got? Spray paint on the security camera.
Would you stop the tape there? Rewind it.
No. She always tried to help him.
You see that? He's covering his mouth with his hand, disguising his voice. He knows her. Maybe the ski mask isn't just for the camera. I'll need the original copy of this tape. Yeah.
