Okay, that went well, Garcia thinks as he shuffles back to his desk. The Commander is probably right, what was I thinking anyway. This case is messing with my head.
An hour or so later, Jackson comes by Garcia’s desk and can see he is depressed. “Did you speak to Marshall?”
“Oh yeah,” sighs Garcia. “I may have ruined my career.”
“That bad, eh?”
“He basically threw me out of his office.”
Jackson starts laughing. “I knew that crazy theory wouldn’t get far.”
“Okay, okay stop it,” pleads Garcia as he chuckles a bit himself. “Let’s just focus on what we have to do. Are you still working your contacts? Someone has to know this guy!”
“We are, but I don’t think he’s known to people in these neighborhoods. If he was, we would have him by now. No way a guy who has a distinctive look and walks with a limp is not known if he lives in the area. We aren’t going to find him through my contacts. We need someone from outside the area to recognize a friend, neighbor, anyone who fits the description and give us a call.”
Meanwhile, Ricci has just completed another round of radiation treatment at the oncology center. Ricci is feeling nauseous and weaker than normal after the treatments. He is also experiencing a strange, metal-type taste in his mouth. Ricci has taken an Uber ride to and from the appointment, knowing he might not feel so good afterward. Upon returning home, he lays down and quickly falls asleep.
At home for the weekend, Garcia tells Rosa what had happened with Commander Marshall.
“So that didn’t go over so well,” she comments.
“That’s an understatement. But unfortunately, I still can’t get it out of my mind. Marshall is right, Mike’s reputation is undisputed, and he does not fit the description. Although I have considered our suspect may be using a disguise. It’s not hard to find a realistic-looking fake beard.”
“You need to be careful Juan; I don’t want you losing your career over this.”
“Neither do I, but sometimes what doesn’t make sense in today’s light, makes more sense when you have all the facts. More crimes have been solved on hunches than you might think.”
“So you think he is the Candy Man Killer?”
“Actually no, but I think it’s important to cover all bases, and Mike’s injury and vehicle create one base that isn’t covered. A simple DNA test would satisfy my concern and I could move past this.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know Rosa; I just don’t know yet.”
Garcia wakes up Monday morning and is grateful he had not been called out over the weekend on another Candy Man Killer attack. He gets to the office early to review new leads from callers reporting men who they think fit the description. There are eight new reports.
At 8:20 am, Ricci walks in looking haggard. He looks pale and seems to be moving slower than normal. He sets down his Dunkin Donuts coffee, then takes off his jacket and hangs it on the back of his chair before sitting down. His shirt collar is unbuttoned, and he is not wearing a tie.
“How are you feeling Mike?” asks Garcia.
“In all honesty, not so well.”
“Is the ulcer acting up?”
“Yeah, that and haven’t been getting much sleep with this hand and all.”
Garcia suspects he is not getting the entire truth from Ricci. There is something more Ricci isn’t telling him about his physical health.
“Any new leads?” asks Ricci.
“Yes, here are the call-ins we got over the weekend,” says Garcia as he hands the reports to Ricci. “Take a look at these and see if you see any worth following up on.”
At 11:45 am, Ricci asks Garcia if he wants to go grab some lunch. Garcia refuses, telling Ricci he has a report from last week he needs to finish up.
After Ricci leaves the office, Garcia places his right hand under his desk and pulls on a latex glove. He then looks around to make sure no one is paying attention. He gets up, walks around to Ricci’s desk, and again making sure no one is looking, he reaches into the wastebasket adjacent to Ricci’s desk and pulls out the Dunkin Donuts paper coffee cup Ricci had discarded earlier. He then places the cup in a paper bag and seals it shut before putting it in his briefcase.
Garcia then makes a phone call to Cindy Cross. “Cindy, I have a question for you.”
“Sure, what is it?” asks Cross.
“I have a cup with DNA on it that I believe may be related to our Candy Man Killer case. Can I get this cup to you and have it tested?”
“Sure, do you know who it came from?”
“Not yet,” lies Garcia, “but if it matches, I’m sure I can figure out whose cup this is. There are only a few possibilities.”
“Where did you find the cup?”
“I can’t reveal that yet, but this is important Cindy.”
Cindy pauses for a few seconds. “I can get it to our DNA analyst and have her run it as an unknown and have her compare it to our suspect DNA.”
“That’s great Cindy, thank you. I’ll bring it over right now.”
Garcia heads out the door with his briefcase containing the paper cup, hops into his detective car, and heads for the Chicago Police Forensic Laboratory. While on his drive, Garcia is thinking, if this doesn’t match and anyone finds out what I did, I’ll probably get fired for this.
During the Commander’s case review meeting that afternoon, there is not much new information to share. Some reports of people matching the suspect description continue to filter in, but at a much slower pace than the previous week.
Cross looks at Garcia wondering if he is going to share that he submitted a cup for DNA analysis. Garcia notices her looking at him as she tilts her head as if saying, are you going to mention the cup? Garcia squints his eyes a bit and ever so slightly shakes his head no, hoping
