Page 20 of 25 Alive

I heard a distant echo of Jacobi’s voice telling me to take it easy.Tomorrow’s another day, Boxer.

Once I closed the murder books, Brenda took them to Brady for his contributions and review. I wrote a summary of the day’s work and the no-progress report on the “I said. You dead” homicides, then, after I stared at a photo of Julie with her arms around Martha, I emailed today’s anorexic case update to Brady.

CHAPTER31

AT HALF PAST six, I drove to Julio’s on the off chance that today’s bar staff would have useful information. The bartender’s name was Bressia Cruz. She looked to be just above legal age, dressed in a short skirt and a tight blouse, with hair falling in waves to her shoulders. The bar was starting to fill, but she agreed to answer questions as long as I made it fast. I gave her the day and date of the homicides and asked her if she had been working the night before those murders.

“Yes, ma’am. I started bartending at six p.m. and left at four in the morning.” She spoke with a slight accent.

Claire had estimated Jacobi’s time of death at just after six in the morning. I showed Bressia photos of Jacobi when he was alive, and she said, emphatically, “I never seen this man.”

She was absolutely sure.

I said, “He was killed in Golden Gate Park, and this matchbook was found near his body.” I showed her an image of the matchbook. “It came from here. See ‘Julio’s’ on the cover?”

She nodded and said, “Sure. We have millions of these. We give them away.”

I said, “Ever seen anything like this?” I showed her a photo of the writing inside the critical matchbook.

Bressia peered at the images as I scrutinized her expression. She read the message out loud. “‘I said. You dead.’ What does it mean?” she asked me.

“Two people are dead. Seems like this is the killer’s way of taking credit and saying, ‘I did it,’ without signing his name. Please call me if you hear or learn anything, okay?”

I gave her my card and a twenty-dollar bill, which she slipped into her skirt pocket.

She wished me a good weekend.

“You too,” I said. I put my hand up to my ear as if it were a phone and raised my eyebrows. The universal sign forCall me?

She was smiling at me when I walked out the door.

CHAPTER32

ONCE BACK IN my car, I mentally put Julio’s in my rearview mirror and home in my headlights. That’s when my phone rang from its spot on the dash mount. Just before I jumped a curb as I turned left onto California Street, I pushed the talk button.

I said “Cin—” but she was already talking over me on speakerphone.

“I’ve got something good, Linds. Dug up by your own dear Girl Reporter.”

I slowed for the light at Divisadero and said, “I’m overdue for good news, Cindy. Please don’t make me beg.”

She laughed and said, “Can you meet me at Grumpy Lynn’s tomorrow morning at eight? I have exhibits. I have a theory—and half a plan.”

“Cindy, Yuki asked me to help her settle down some freaked-out jurors first thing tomorrow before they—”

“Do not worry,” said Cindy. “Coffee only. We’ll be there for twenty minutes, tops, I swear.”

“Can you give me a clue?”

“Tomorrow. Let’s say seven thirty at Lynn’s.”

We agreed.

CHAPTER33

THE STICKY REMAINS of the day clung to me as I locked up my car on the street. I looked up toward our apartment’s windows and saw that all the lights were on. I imagined Jacobi opening the Explorer’s door for me, saying,There ya go, Boxer.I silently thanked him and headed for the building’s front door.

As I reached our floor, I imagined Martha at home, wagging her tail and dancing on her hind legs like a puppy. And I pictured Julie rolling around and panting with laughter.

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