Yuki sighed. “I’ve just never had so many witnesses change their minds about testifying.”
“I heard you figured out a workaround on one of them. Did you really bring in cops just to make him feel safe on the stand?”
“I did. And the really gratifying thing is that the cops have been coming back every day. This morning they even had their buddies in the rear of the gallery. I hope it’s because they like the interaction in court. My fear is that they’re just coming to get a look at Angela Torres.”
Parisi laughed at that. “She’s attractive. No doubt. But she’s notattractive enough to pull cops into a courtroom. They prefer being on the street and in the thick of things. The guys coming in here every day could find a pretty woman to look at elsewhere. The ones here are the cops preparing themselves for when they become detectives. Or Narcotics agents. Or maybe just the ones wanting to be better street cops.”
Yuki gave Parisi a sidelong glance. “Admit it. Did you hear the trial’s going so badly you felt like you had to give me a pep talk?”
“I heard that you’re doing everything a prosecutor should do. I heard that you may or may not have been threatened the other night. And I know for a fact you’re a dynamite prosecutor. I came down here just to tell you that.”
Yuki smiled. She restrained herself from giving this big red-haired mountain a hug. But she did manage to say, “Thanks for the support, boss.”
CHAPTER74
CLAIRE WASHBURN CONSIDEREDherself aworkingmedical examiner. One who spent equal time in the lab and even occasionally at crime scenes. She enjoyed interacting with other professionals, like cops and prosecutors.
But sometimes she needed to do paperwork. She looked at a recent lab report. It was a drug and chemical scan for Tina Barnes, the Golden Gate Park victim. Claire felt a particular connection to this victim, since she and Edmund had been there when the body was found.
She read through the drug test first. It was about what she had expected. Marijuana, a trace amount of cocaine, an anti-inflammatory, and an over-the-counter weight-loss drug. The weight-loss supplement was really just a form of legal speed.
On the next page she read the analysis of a scraping taken of the odd material she’d noticed on Tina’s face. She’d suspected that a homemade pepper spray or mace was used on Tina before she was struck in the throat. The analysis confirmed it. Capsaicin oil made from chili peppers and a few other over-the-counter chemicals.One of them she noticed was lecithin, an emulsifier. Whoever had mixed the concoction probably used the lecithin to make sure the capsaicin oil stayed well mixed with the water and stuck to whatever it was sprayed on.
Something pinged in Claire’s brain. She stared at the report for a full ten seconds silently. Then she leaned down and opened the bottom left drawer on her desk. That’s where she kept all her hardcopy notes on active cases.
She rummaged through the drawer. Under a dozen other files was a fourteen-inch manila folder Claire slid out. The folder’s typed label ofUNIDENTIFIED WHITE FEMALEwas crossed out, and “Donna ‘Missy’ Harris” was handwritten in blue ink over it. Harris was the girl who’d been found washed up on Marshall’s Beach, another potential victim in Lindsay’s wide-ranging investigation into some missing girls.
Claire turned immediately to the drug scan on the right side of the folder. There hadn’t been much in the report because of the length of time the body had stayed in the ocean.
The body’s deterioration by the elements hadn’t stopped Claire from taking scrapings anywhere she could. That included the insides of the eyelids. She was being wildly cautious to send in scrapings like that to the lab.
But she remembered something from that report. She just had to verify it.
She flipped through the drug scan pages and found it.
“There you are!” she shouted to the empty room.
It was a reference to lecithin. She hadn’t really thought much of it when the results of the scan had first come in. But it was from the scrapings she had taken of the eyelids. Somehow the salt water hadn’t managed to wash it all away. What were the chances of anemulsifier like lecithin being found on the bodies of two different homicide victims?
It was a physical link between poor Missy Harris, who’d washed up on Marshall’s Beach, and Tina Barnes, who’d died in Golden Gate Park.
Claire grabbed her phone and started dialing Lindsay Boxer.
CHAPTER75
THE GARDEN SPOTlooked like a different place in the early evening. Maybe it was the setting sun that gave it more of a cheerful atmosphere. Or maybe it was a happier crowd than had been out here yesterday.
After confirming with security chief Bill Simpkins that there had been no new sightings of Nicole Snaff at the Stonestown Galleria, I had taken Alain on a detour out to Ocean Beach, for a view of the fog already rolling in, and then over for the requisite view of Golden Gate Bridge from Torpedo Wharf, with its sea lions. While we were making our way south on Van Ness Avenue, back to the Tenderloin, my phone rang. Claire Washburn.
“I’ve found a definitive link between the bodies of Tina Barnes and Donna Harris,” she told me. “This case is a lot larger than just the two of them.”
So now I was on my way back to the Tenderloin this evening. Alain was game to follow the leads with me.
I could see exactly what the Duke of the Tenderloin had beentalking about. I noticed a number of attractive girls who all seemed to just be wandering around aimlessly. It didn’t take me long to realize most of them were waiting for someone to pick them up. I felt a tingle in my spine. This could be ground zero for my investigation. It checked all the boxes. Attractive young women who looked like they were doing escort work. If they all lived at the Garden Spot, it could mean that someone, somewhere, might be missing them.
I found a place a few blocks away to park. Alain and I ambled along the sidewalk. I gave him time to take everything in. As we approached the hotel, he looked up at the faded logo.
I heard him snicker when he saw the carrots that had been turned into penises in a wicker basket.
