'That maybe Panos wasn't the guy to help out homicide on Silverman. Or anything else, for that matter.'
'And he'd been doing that?'
'Trying. He'd given them some names, among them your friend Holiday, who Creed originally ID'd as one of the guys who broke into Silverman's, by the way.'
'Well, that's wrong. John had…'
Glitsky held up a hand. 'Relax. Creed changed his mind. No ID. He was calling the case inspectors and letting them know.'
'Did he?'
'I don't know. I'd assume so. Besides, what does it matter? You said Holiday has an alibi, and you'd never lie for a client.'
Hardy declined to comment, found his chair, and was sitting again. Finally, he said, 'Suddenly I'm willing to believe that Panos had something to do with David.'
Glitsky nodded slowly, the professional cop in him less than completely willing to commit. 'It does invite inquiry.'
'So how do we do it?'
'Do what?'
'Inquire.'
Glitsky scratched his cheek. 'You might profitably mention something to Blanca. Maybe something got left at the scene. David's. But this could be nothing. Just a coincidence.'
'Theoretically, I agree with you. I'll keep it in mind.'
'Just so we're on the same page. And also, so you're clear, I'm not going anywhere near it. The latest poll results are in, and the consensus is it's not my job.'
12
San Francisco's crime lab, one of several buildings in a facility that had originally been built by the Navy, had recently been refurbished and was now pretty much state of the art. The facility also housed the TTF unit, or Tac Squad, and served as the PD's armored car lot. Although its location in Hunters Point was as far from desirable as possible, the ancient hamburger stand called Dago Mary's just outside the compound made it something of a destination for the law enforcement community.
Russell and Cuneo had finished their lunch with Roy at John's Grill. Then they'd gone back to the Ark, pounded on the doors again, sat outside for most of another useless hour. Apparently the place wasn't opening today, at least not before nighttime. Finally Cuneo gave up on the stakeout and they'd driven to the Marina District, to Holiday's address, where several newspapers in the doorway argued that he'd been away for a while.
Russell couldn't pass Dago Mary's without a pit stop. Hell, they were right here anyway, Russell argued. It wouldn't take fifteen minutes. They would have plenty of time to pick up their ballistics results from the lab and roll back uptown on the undoubtedly related Creed/Silverman murders. Get some warrants. Kick ass.
By the time they got past the guard tower, parked, and arrived at the lab's reception, they'd burned fifteen more minutes. A small room with a desk, phone and computer, enclosed on their side with glass, blocked any view of the lab itself within. When the inspectors entered the lobby area, there was no one at the desk. They waited awhile in the hopes that a body would appear.
Cuneo craned his neck trying to be seen. He sang out a strong, 'Hello!'
'Here we go,' Russell said. There was a button next to the door that led inside and he pressed it. Silence. 'Maybe it rings inside.' He pressed and held it this time.
'Hey! Hey! Enough with the bell! We're coming.'
The door finally opened to reveal a small, pale, middle-aged man in Dockers and a button-down plaid shirt. A wash of wispy dark hair fell sideways across his forehead- if he'd had the right mustache, he would have been a ringer for Hitler. The plastic name tag over his left pocket read 'M. Lester,' and Mr. Lester was frowning. 'Keep your shirts on, boys, what's the problem?'
Cuneo pointed at the reception desk. 'Nobody seems to be minding the fort, is all.'
'Yeah, well, Sherry's out today. Sorry.'
'Well,' Cuneo said, 'we're here for some ballistics results. Homicide. My partner here, Russell, he marked it urgent.'
The frown grew more pronounced as Lester turned to Russell. 'I emailed you about that.'
'I never got it.'
The man persisted. 'I sent it off as soon as I got yours. Couldn't have been five minutes later.'
'I still didn't get it,' Russell said. 'What was it about?'
'Your evidence. I asked if you could pick it up while you were still at the Hall and bring it down here. We're getting killed by the flu. Half the staff is out sick. We got nobody to drive the shuttle even.'
Cuneo drew a breath, kept an exaggerated calm in his voice. 'And so, because my partner had marked his email 'Homicide-Urgent,' and you didn't hear back from him, you called a patrol car or got a messenger to bring this critical evidence down to your lab so that we'd have our ballistics results in time, perhaps, to save a life or two, or at least get some scumbags off the streets. That's what you did, right? Tell me that's what you did.'
In spite of the strikeout on ballistics, Cuneo reminded Russell that for all their efforts, they still needed to talk to John Holiday. He might have come in to the Ark since they'd last been there, and Cuneo voted that they go back for the third time that day and try again.
'There's no way, Dan. He's gone.'
'I don't think so.'
'Why not? He doesn't come to work. His apartment's deserted. He knows we've put him with Terry and Wills on Silverman. If it were me, I'd be long gone.'
'Except that, if you recall, Roy Panos said he talked to him last night. Stopped by the Ark and there he was working behind the bar. Nothing's changed between last night and today.'
'Except Creed got shot. Not exactly nothing.'
Cuneo glanced across the seat. 'Agreed. But if Holiday was bartending, and Roy says he was, then he didn't do Creed, did he? He knows we're not after him for that. So no way does it get him to run if Silverman didn't.'
This shut Russell up for a half block or so. 'Don't get me wrong,' he finally said. 'I'm itching to drive back uptown and talk to him, but if we don't have ballistics, what are we talking to him about? Especially if he wasn't any part of Creed?'
'I never said he wasn't any part of it. He just didn't pull the trigger. But that still leaves Terry and Wills. In which case Terry's the shooter both times. We might mention some chance of immunity for Holiday if he'll give them up, see if he bites.'
'If he's there.'
'Even if he's not, we'll learn something. Maybe get another chance to talk to Terry.'
'And if he is, we're his friends.'
'That's the ticket,' Cuneo said. 'Give him a chance.'
Randy Wills checked his lipstick in the bathroom of his apartment. He'd bathed and shaved all over less than an hour ago. Looking down, he smoothed the front of his skirt, then came back to the mirror. Luckily, he'd never had a heavy beard, and now a close shave and makeup base gave him the smooth cheeks of a very pretty woman with luminous eyes, a delicate nose and jawline. He wore a luxuriant, natural-looking chestnut wig. A black turtleneck covered his Adam's apple-the only giveaway that he wasn't what he seemed.
Outside, it was coming to dusk. The back window in the bedroom let in a thin late-afternoon light, and he looked around the room and then into the front rooms-the kitchen and living room-with something approaching real contentment.
He and Clint lived in a street-level apartment on Jones, less than a quarter mile from the Ark. It didn't look
