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Chapter 19
I DIDN'T WANT TO GO HOME. And I knew I couldn't stay at the Hall any longer. I grabbed my bag, rushed down to the underground garage, and started up my trusty-dusty Bronco without a clear sense of where I was headed. I just drove- Fourth, Third, onto Mission, past the Moscone Center- cafes, closed-up shops. All the way down toward the Embarcadero. I wrapped around Battery, heading away from the bay. I had nowhere to go, but my hands seemed to act on their own, leading me somewhere. Flashes of the murdered bride and groom flickered in my head. Echoes of Orenthaler. I had finally called Dr. Medved, the hematologist, for an appointment. I was approaching Sutler, and I turned. Suddenly, I knew where I was heading. I pulled into Union Square. Without even trying, I found myself in front of the brightly lit entrance of the Hyatt. I badged the manager and took the elevator up to the thirtieth floor. A single uniformed guard sat in front of the Mandarin Suite. I recognized him, David Hale out of Central. He stood up as he saw me approach. "Nowhere to go, Inspector?" A crisscrossing barrier of yellow tape blocked the entrance to the Mandarin Suite. Hale gave me the key. I peeled off a band or two of tape and slipped under the rest. I turned the lock and I was inside. If you've never wandered alone at the site of a freshly committed murder, you don't really know the feeling of restless unease. I felt the dark ghosts of David and Melanie Brandt were still in the room. I was sure I had missed something. I was also sure it was here. What? The suite was pretty much as I had left it. The Oriental carpet in the living room had gone to Clapper's lab. But body positions and blood sites were clearly marked out with blue chalk. I looked at the spot where David Brandt had died. In my mind, I retraced what had likely taken place. They are toasting each other. (I knew that from the half filled champagne glasses on a table near the terrace.) Maybe he just gave her the earrings. (The open box was on the master bathroom counter.) There's a knock. David Brandt goes to answer. It was as if secrets were buzzing in the thick air, alive with whispers. The killer comes in, carrying the champagne box. Maybe David knows him. Maybe he just left him an hour before at the reception. The knife comes out. Only one thrust. The groom is pi
Chapter20
NINE THE NEXT MORNING, I was in the office of Dr. Victor Medved, a pleasant, smallish man with a narrow, chiseled face, who, with a trace of an Eastern European accent, scared the hell out of me. "Negli's is a killer," he stated evenly. "It robs the body of its ability to transport oxygen. "In the begi