I want you to listen to Agent Maguire. Moreover, I want you to cooperate with him.
As bombs went, it was far from unanticipated. Still I dont need a babysitter, Captain.
You need what I say you need. Agent Maguire will talk, and youll listen. But not here. He dismissed the still-bustling room. Some place where you can actually hear what hes saying.
As if to emphasize his point, a detective and a uniformed officer ushered a young man in handcuffs through the door. The man had blood on his shirt, had lost several teeth and was shouting every four-letter word in the English language, along with a few Vanessa recognized as Dutch.
Palmer stuck his face in hers. Go, he said softly. Pick a restaurant. Dinners on the department. And dont tell me youve already eaten, because I know your routine.
Vanessa wondered if either man understood Dutch, but she held her tongue and forced a smile. Do you like Armenian food, Mr. Maguire?
Rick, he replied with a quirk of his lips. Im good with anything.
Especially women, she imagined. But that was an unfair thought that hed done nothing to deserve. Yet.
Right. Well. She considered clipping her hair back, then saw no less than three detectives firing visual bullets at Rick Maguires back and reasoned that a fast escape might be prudent.
I wont go into hiding. She shot the warning over her shoulder as they worked their way through the room.
Thats between you and your captain, Detective.
She relented. Vanessas fine. But you can eighty-six the charm. Im not easily wooed.
Youd rather be treated like one of the guys?
Im okay with it.
How often does it happen?
She glanced back. Do all Feds ask sexist questions?
Only when challenged by beautiful women.
Im a cop.
And a beautiful woman. Reaching around her, he pulled the door open. You want to get to the point, am I right?
Itd be nice.
Okay, well start with your dead friends. Then, well move on to your former Berkeley College connection. Finally his dark eyes met hers well deal with the fact that someone broke into your home last week and went through your bedroom closet.
RICK LET HER DIRECT HIM to Grant Avenue, to the Dragons Gate. Not that he needed a human GPS. Hed spent a good portion of his youth in San Francisco, sharing houses with friends as aimless as hed been back then, soaking up the atmosphere of a lost era, and hoping for the smallest scrap of inspiration as to where his life should go.
Is this your car? Vanessa inquired from the passenger seat.
He watched her run a finger over the soft leather armrest and grinned. About a third of it. Ill be making payments for a few more years.
Quite a few, I imagine. I have an aunt in Bodega Bay. Her husband had a Porsche. He ran it into a northbound train one night, died on impact.
Theres an uplifting story.
He was dying anyway. A crash was the better way for him. It was a freight train. No casualties except my uncle, his Porsche and a whole lot of sugar. She motioned forward. Park anywhere. We can talk while we walk.
To the Chinese-slash-Armenian restaurant?
It was her turn to grin. Armenian foods great, but you absolutely have to eat Chinese when you come to San Francisco.
He couldnt argue with that. Nor could he keep his eyes from straying to her legs when he opened the door for her. The fact that he knew she knew he was looking and didnt bother to tug her skirt down intrigued him. Coy, Detective Connor wasnt. Inherently seductive, he suspected she was.
Temperatures in and around San Francisco had been uncommonly high for several days, or so Rick had heard. The thermometer still hovered in the mideighties, and it was almost 9:00 p.m. But Rick was accustomed to DC summers. Nothing on the west coast could touch the cloying heat and humidity of the east.
Wo Tans has good duck. Vanessa folded her jacket over one arm. Theres also Kwon Lees, but thats a Korean restaurant.
Snuck in on the fringe, huh?
Married in. Okay, so what does my bedroom closet have to do with three murders? Obviously, you feel its relevant.
He went with the simple answer, though hed had to dig through several layers to uncover the link. Your friends bedroom closets were all trashed prior to their deaths.
Vanessa tipped her head. Says lunatic with a big chip and a lot of emotional problems to me.
The white sleeveless top she wore clung like a second skin. She was, as hed noticed earlier, a remarkably beautiful woman. Hed been half hoping she would also be unpleasant. From the information hed gathered on the dead women, the first two certainly had been.
Lunatic, maybe. He made what appeared to be an idle sweep of the brightly lit, extremely busy street. And Im sure well find a chip on at least one of his shoulders. Emotional problemswell, hey, we all have those, right? But this killer calculates and executes, cleverly and cleanly. He doesnt leave DNA, he doesnt give his victims time to raise an alarm and he doesnt hang around to gloat. Gloating is not uncommon, he added, bringing his gaze back to hers.
Amused, Vanessa tapped his forehead with her index finger. Homicide cop, Rick. Ive bumped into one or two gloaters myself. Some people say Jack the Ripper was guilty of that. Dont know why he springs to mind, but there you go. He left plenty of clues at the scenes of his maniacal murders, yet to this day no one really knows who he was. And dont even get me started on Norman Bates.
Rick chuckled. I wouldnt have pegged you as a movie buff.
I loved to be scared as a kid. I gave my aunt, Cinnamonthe one in Bodega Baya mynah bird for Christmas last year and named it Lydia Brenner, after the character in The Birds.
You should have called it Mrs. Bundythe know-it-all ornithologist who said birds couldnt and wouldnt mass together.
Appreciation softened her expression. Youre okay for a Fed. Now talk to me about the closets.
Drawing her out of the traffic flow in front of a Chinese emporium, Rick once again scanned the passing stream of late night humanity. He could have scanned Vanessa and enjoyed himself a great deal more, but with her long, red-brown hair, slitted pencil skirt, incredible legs and eyes the color of liquid honey, he knew better than to tempt fate.
Theres not a lot to tell. Anywhere from a week to ten days before they died, each victims home was broken into and her bedroom closet trashed. None of them filed a report, so it took me more time than it should have to make the connection. Fortunately, while they didnt lodge official complaints, they did talk to friends and family members.
Who eventually talked to you. She lifted a shrewd brow. Whats your technique, Maguire? Charm, straight up questioning, or does it vary depending on the questionee?
Whatever works. He returned his eyes to her face, kept them deliberately neutral. Your captain expects you to cooperate with me, Vanessa. Ive worked a lot of serial murders. I can keep you alive.
Thanks, but Ive put murderers behind bars before and will again. Whoever killed Deirdre, Sandy and Mara had an advantage over them. They didnt realize he or she was out there. I do. Im also a cop, fully trained. Scale tips slightly in my favor.
Whatever works. He returned his eyes to her face, kept them deliberately neutral. Your captain expects you to cooperate with me, Vanessa. Ive worked a lot of serial murders. I can keep you alive.
Thanks, but Ive put murderers behind bars before and will again. Whoever killed Deirdre, Sandy and Mara had an advantage over them. They didnt realize he or she was out there. I do. Im also a cop, fully trained. Scale tips slightly in my favor.
Rick had run into similar resistance too many times in the past to be put off. So that would be a no to cooperation, then. When she merely stared at him, he offered her a vague smile. Palmerll be pissed.
Hes my captain, not my father.
He was a little more than that, however, Rick let it slide and instead offered a sage, Would you have listened to your father?
He spied the glimmer of sadness in her eyes before she looked away. My father was a cop. Homicide. He died in the line of duty. Hed have understood how I feel, how any officer would feel. Ill deal with Palmer and with anyone who comes after me. I can make connections, too, Rick. She pointed through the Emporium window. Do you see that pretty lady there?
He followed her outstretched finger to a carved white figure. His lips twitched. Are you going to tell me shes fragile and youre not?
Shes porcelain, like mywell, like many people, I suppose. Im more elastic.
Not from where Rick stood. She wasnt flexing one bit on this matter.
He started to point that out, but the words never emerged. As she bent to inspect another figure, the window over Vanessas head exploded.
Chapter Two
Fragments of tempered glass flew everywhere. Inward, sideways, some of the larger ones actually ricocheted back onto the street. The white porcelain figure shattered. So did dozens of other ornaments.
Already low to the ground, Vanessa snatched her gun from her purse and swung around in a crouch. Rick had his Glock out and angled skyward.
The people closest to them gave a collective gasp, then began to scream. The store owner rushed out, shouting in Chinese.
Get down, Rick told him and anyone else who could hear.
There. Vanessa used her gun to indicate a gray Volvo with blacked out windows and a dent in the passenger side.
Rick assisted a woman whod twisted her knee, but his eyes were on the Volvo. Call for backup, he said and took off before Vanessa could reply.
The store owner grabbed her arm, impeding her. She knew what he wantedmore or lessbut couldnt do anything except pry his fingers free and tell him to go back inside.
Spotting a patrol car, she ran toward it. The Volvo had vanished. So had Rick.
What happened? the sergeant at the wheel called out.
Shot fired into the store. Look for a Volvo, late eighties, large dent in the passenger door. Drivers heading north on Grant. No plates. The side windows are painted flat black.
You okay?
No problem. Only hampered by her shoes and tight skirt. Not to mention the store owners fingers that were once again grinding into her forearm.
Even a police siren couldnt drown out the pandemonium around her. Resigned, Vanessa located her badge and endeavored to calm the situation down before anyone got seriously hurt.
Thirty minutes passed. Two backup patrols arrived and took over crowd control. Vanessa was talking to her desk sergeant when Rick returned, winded and alone.
I lost him on Jackson.
She flipped her phone closed. New Porsche lost aging Volvo? Thats gotta be a first.
New Porsche almost got sideswiped by a hippie mobile with bad brakes. I cut over to Stockton on foot, but the Volvo disappeared in the confusion. Did you get the plates?
There werent any. A patrol car took up the pursuit. They might get lucky. Mr. Sing? She gestured to the distraught store owner who was holding his head while he surveyed the ruin that had once been his display window.
Bad, very bad, he moaned as he emerged. Guns are very dangerous.
Vanessa eased him forward. Mr. Sing, this is Rick Maguire. Hes with the FBI. Tell him what you told me.
It was a man. Sing used his hands to illustrate. He moved like a snake, in and out of the crowd. I saw him through the door of my shop.
Can you describe him? Rick asked.
He was like the Steve in an old movie.
McQueen, Vanessa supplemented.
Mr. Sing nodded. Yes, a very bad dude.
Who moved like a snake. Rick glanced at the sidewalk across the street. A narrow alley ran between a pair of old brick buildings. Did you see his gun?
At first, no gun, but something on his head, like wrinkled skin. He watched my store as he came toward the street. Mr. Sing mimicked the mans moves. Before he got there, he pulled the skin over his face and took the gun from inside his jacket. He used both hands to hold it and shot, just like that. The store owner snapped his fingers.
Vanessa kept a hand on his arm so he wouldnt be diverted by the wreckage beside him. Can you describe the skin he pulled over his face? Did it distort his features?
It made them flat.
Even more snakelike, then, Rick noted. Must have used a stocking.
Mr. Sing became indignant. When you catch this man, I will have much to say to him.
Rick motioned to Vanessa who took over. Youll have to come down to police headquarters, Mr. Sing. We need a full description of the suspect and an account of his actions.
Oh, I dont know, Officer. Sing raised his palms. Not always wise to get mixed up with police.
If we apprehend him, it might help with the insurance claim.
The mans face brightened. Not always wise, but good for Sing and Sing. I can pull down the bars and lock the store. No one will get past the bars. One moment, please.
Rick nudged at broken glass with the toe of his boot. People were curious, but the backup patrols had taped the scene, and no one was screaming anymore.
Vanessa wiped a spot of blood from his right cheek. Sliver got you, Maguire. Her gaze strayed to the alleyway. That guy wasnt shooting at a shop window.
No.
Or at you.
Not likely.
Frustration warred with inevitability. In the end, she could only sigh. Hell.
YOU LIVE IN A VICTORIAN HOUSE on Russian Hill? Rick surveyed the tall, thin structure with its square bay windows and ornate trellises. I wouldnt have expected that.
Never judge a book, Maguire. I wouldnt expect long hair from the FBI.
I was undercover until recently. Im working this case at the request of a VIP from your home state.
That would be Senator Graham whose sister married Judge Howard Morton of Chicago. Together they produced a daughter named Deirdre. My friendyou met her, Geri Krugerthinks Deirdre would have been annoyed by the funeral service she received. I think Senator Graham wanted to keep the memorial quiet and dignified because his niece tended not to be. She searched for her key, a tricky feat with a gorgeous man standing directly behind her and only a single porch light to aid the search. Setting aside Deirdres outrageous lifestyle, I cant see anyone who knew her and also knew Sandy, Mara and me wanting all of us dead. We were very different people, with very different habits and hobbies.