'It's just like any other system of inferences. Garbage in, garbage
out.'
'Is it possible she died Saturday night?' I asked.
'Sure. Like I said, this isn't down-to-the-minute stuff, especially
once you're past the first twenty-four hours. To reconcile the
physical state of the corpse with what Johnson told me about the
victim's lunch on Sunday, I had to make certain assumptions, like the
physical exertion before death that I mentioned early. I also assumed
she was kept somewhere warm, which was consistent with what we knew
about the body being moved. With the very same state of deterioration,
sure, the death could have occurred on Saturday, especially if the body
were kept in a relatively cool atmosphere.'
I had a feeling I knew exactly where that cool spot was.
When I pulled into the Pasta Company parking lot, a young patrol
officer was already waiting for me. I still had a quick call to make,
though. I dialed into my voice mail box at work and jotted down Russ
Frist's home telephone number.
I got lucky. Unlike most of the lawyers on the office homicide
call-out list, Frist apparently didn't screen his evening calls.
'Russ, it's Samantha Kincaid.'
'You better not be calling me to give notice.'
'That depends on how you react to what I'm about to tell you.' I
spelled everything out for him. 'Johnson and Forbes are on their way
to the airport, but I need you to get together with Calabrese and
Walker for a search warrant for Susan's house. Make sure the judge
approves destruction if necessary. I've got a feeling the crime lab
will find blood evidence beneath a wine cellar she's got going over
there.'
'And where are you off to?' he asked.
'To get you the rest of the evidence you're going to need for that
warrant.'
The dinner rush was over by now, so I was able to walk right up to the
hostess desk. Unfortunately, when I got there, the two girls at the
counter felt free to ignore me while they finished discussing the
pressing issue of the day whether the new waiter had been checking out
Stacy, another hostess who was supposedly a 'skank.' Given that these
two appeared to have all skank bases covered, that was saying a lot.
I waited patiently until the one with the hoop through her navel made
eye contact with me, but they immediately resumed chatting. I resisted
the temptation to grab the edge of the other girl's purposefully
exposed thong underwear and deliver the mother of all wedgies. Instead,
I got their attention by using my District Attorney badge.
'Hey. Girls. I need the two of you to plug back into the world that
doesn't revolve around you and pay attention. Were either of you
working a week ago Saturday night?'
They rolled their eyes at each other to be cute, but they at least
seemed to be listening. 'We both were,' said Thong.
'Yeah, Saturday's like totally crazy around here.' Belly
Button obviously thought I was like totally clueless for so not knowing
that.
I showed them the DMV photographs of Clarissa and Susan that the
officer from central precinct had run for me. 'Do you remember seeing
them in here together?'
The idea of doing something that might get someone else in trouble
seemed to appeal to them and they actually took a close look at the
photographs. Unfortunately, their facial expressions remained
completely vapid. Nope, not the slightest bit of recognition. On the
other hand, these girls probably paid little attention to women outside
of their age range of competition.
I was reaching for the photographs when one of the waiters stopped by
to complain that the hostesses had put too many screaming kids in his
section. When he noticed the badge I was still holding, he leaned in
to take a look at the pictures.
'Cool, man. You got some Matlock action going on here or what?' He
pushed his long highlighted bangs from his forehead to get a closer
peek.
'Are you even old enough to remember that show?' I asked.
'Syndication, senorita.'
'And I apparently remind you of Andy Griffith?'
'Sure, if he was a little younger with a knockout fern bod.'
I know, I'm a total hypocrite. You take all those characteristics that
infuriate me in a teenage girl and bundle them together in a
nice-looking boy package, and I'm done.
