Treasure Hunt

Turner was fuming. “Well, I trust, Mr. Hunt, that you’ll also do the other thing that we’re paying you for, which is to keep us well-informed of the progress of your investigation. That seems to have become a problem.”

Lorraine Hess interrupted. “So you’re saying these murders were about the money? They had to be about the money.”

“Not at all,” Hunt said. “I don’t know what they’re about, though I do believe they’re co

“Nancy and Dominic ran very different operations, Mr. Hunt,” Turner said. “You’ve admitted that any co

“No, sir, I’m afraid I don’t. We’ve had lots of phone calls and several interviews, although I don’t believe the police are close to an arrest yet. On either case.”

“But poor Nancy.” Tears had overflowed onto Hess’s cheeks. “And you’re saying the police haven’t found anything at her house either? Nothing at all? I mean, this isn’t a situation like Dominic, found four days later floating in the lagoon. There must be something.”

“I don’t know,” Hunt said. “They only discovered the body last night. I’m sure they haven’t gotten through sifting everything they got. Something may turn up.”

“This just seems so hard to imagine,” Jimi Sanchez said. “Nancy and Dominic were the last people you’d ever-”

But he was interrupted by what sounded to Hunt like a strangled cry right behind him.

Turning, Hunt was still only a few feet from Ellen Como, who was standing now as if transfixed, her hand extended outward, her eyes focused on a spot somewhere in the back of the room. Following her line of vision, Hunt didn’t at first notice anything unusual, the large crowd mostly milling in front of one of the brochure- and pledge-card tables, until he heard Ellen’s voice again. “How dare that slut show her face in here!” And then raising her voice even further, speaking to no one and to everyone, Ellen Como went on, “Put her out! Put her out on the street where she belongs! Get her out of here now! Now! Do you hear me?”

The suddenly silent crowd seemed to separate and open a corridor through the room and Hunt, standing right beside Lorraine Hess, found himself looking at a very attractive young woman in a plain black dress that hinted at an exquisite body beneath it. She was standing perfectly still with one hand held over her heart. Her eyes were wide in surprise at being thrust into the spotlight by this unexpected reaction, and this, if anything, made her, if possible, even more luminous.

On the other side of Hunt, Al Carter spoke in a matter-of-fact tone-“I’ll get her”-and moved at the same time to escort the young woman, who Hunt immediately knew had to be Alicia Thorpe, out of the room.

The exterior of the 2006 Lincoln Town Car was spotless and shone with a high gloss. The black leather seats, likewise, might as well have been brand-new. The trunk contained a spare tire, but no tire iron or any other tools or debris. It looked as though it had been vacuumed within the past day. All the nonleather internal soft surfaces-dashboard, steering wheel-had recently been wiped down with Armor All, which, as all cops and many miscreants know, does not readily yield fingerprints. Russo and Juhle stood by while the crime scene perso

The police impound garage doubled as a maintenance shed for city-issued cars, and looked very much like the service area of any gas station. Russo, on her knees, her own flashlight in hand, watched while crime scene perso

“Eureka,” Russo said. “Getting warm now.”

“Oh, yeah.” Juhle’s enthusiasm less than genuine. “That ought to break the case wide open.”

“You wait.”

After she placed the condom in a Ziploc bag, the tech opened the back door of the limo, waited for her partner to do the same on his side, and then the two of them lifted the backseat. Russo turned her flashlight beam to the area under the seat cushion itself and it illuminated what looked like a multicolored rag of some kind scrunched into a ball and caught there.

“What’s that?” Juhle asked.

The tech was extricating it with some care from the springs under the seat. She finally brought it out and held it up by one end so that it fell open and revealed itself as a silk head scarf in reds, yellows, and oranges. But all of it did not fall out; several folds in the silk appeared to be stuck to each other.

The inspectors watched and waited while the technician pulled one of her standard tools-a Wood’s lamp-out of her kit and shone it on the scarf. Under its ultraviolet light, a smear of characteristic stains appeared as fluorescent.

She made a face and held it out at arm’s length.

“Semen,” she said.

19

Jim Parr got outside, then, noting the weather, immediately went back in and up the stairs to his place to get his heavy peacoat. And so by less than a minute he missed his first chance to catch the N-Judah bus to downtown. As he rounded the corner to the bus stop, he saw it pulling away and took the opportunity to dust off several of his favorite underutilized profanities.

The next bus put him in the thick of the last- minute crowd rushing into the War Memorial building. He was standing in the middle of the crush of humanity at the bottom of the stairs when word traveled down that the Green Room had reached its capacity and that no one else could be admitted. Over the next twenty minutes, those members of the crowd who chose to remain, including Parr, managed to push themselves upstairs, where they got backed into the hallway that led to the doors inside of which the memorial was to take place.

Jostled back and across the entire hallway and now near the entrance to the elevator, Parr had just about decided to call it a day when he saw his old acquaintance and successor Al Carter approaching him, shouldering his way through the mass of people gathered between his spot and the Green Room’s door, his arm protectively around a tearful and perhaps frightened Alicia Thorpe.

“Al!” he called out. “Alicia!”

Carter raised a finger in acknowledgment.

On an impulse, Parr pressed the button for the elevator. When it opened, he stepped back into it and held the door open as a few of the overload of mourners filed in before Carter and Alicia finally made it too.

“Going down?”

“Anywhere,” Carter replied, his arm still around Alicia’s shoulder wrap.

Though she was clearly shaken, Alicia’s hooded expression barely allowed her to nod at Parr before she leaned her head against Carter’s chest. The doors closed in front of them and the elevator began its descent.

On the ground floor, Carter stayed around long enough to exchange a few pleasantries with Parr. Then he turned to Alicia. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’d like to kill Ellen,” she said, “but otherwise…”

“You got a way home?” Carter asked.

“I’m good,” she said. “I drove myself down.”

Parr cleared his throat. “You wouldn’t by any chance be going back my way, would you? Save me another Muni adventure.”

“Sure,” she said. “Done.”

Carter had made sure the guard at the door he’d exited upstairs knew he’d be coming back in. He was certain that he’d be readmitted, so he could afford these moments of pleasantries with Jim and Alicia, but clearly he wanted to get back up. After a few last encouraging words to Alicia, Carter left them both in the lobby and disappeared again into the elevator.