Page 49 of 25 Alive

“Let’s hear it, Steve.”

“Well, he was at the high school gym watching his nephew play basketball. It was a playoff for the championship.”

“And Palmer stayed in his seat throughout this game?”

“Yup. He came in his car. His sister and brother-in-law came in another, and they all sat together in the gym. Palmer’s sister said that Brett was there the whole time. His sister isn’t going to say otherwise even if it was possible for him to slip away during this high-tension basketball game and get back to his seat. But I’m thinking, if Palmer drowned his wifebeforethe game, the temperature of the bath water would have kept the body warm for quite a while.

“There was no writing on anything, however. No ‘I said. You dead’ messages. End of story.”

“Wait. So, what’s your opinion?”

“I’m still thinking. Okay. Off the top of my head. Palmer was married twice. Both of his ex-wives appear to have had died under suspicious circumstances. Could he have gotten away with murder? Maybe he did. Palmer’s been professionally trained by the FBI. I don’t think it’s impossible that Palmer also killed his second ex-wife by hanging her and writing ‘I said’ on the sole of one of her shoes and ‘You dead’ on the other. Does that help, Cindy?”

“Sure it does. Steve. Release me from my promise, please. I have to get the SFPD involved.”

“Okay. But you have to forget my name.”

“Sure thing. Thanks very much.”

Cindy turned off the recorder and thought more about Agent Brett Palmer. No inscription reading, “I said. You dead,” was found on or near Brett Palmer’s first ex-wife. Not on shoes or matchbooks, and not even on a computer screen.

If Roxanne Palmer was Brett Palmer’s first killing, he may still have been an amateur. Had Palmer been a serial killer in the making?

If so, by the time he’d killed Jacobi, he would have been a pro.

CHAPTER74

MY PHONE RANG at half past five in the morning. After fumbling for it in the dark, I pressed the blinking button and said, “Joe? Joe, where are you?”

At first I heard nothing but my own shallow breathing. I said, louder this time, “Joe, are you okay? Joe?Hello?”

“Lindsay. It’s Cappy. Sorry for the way-too-early call, but I thought you’d want to hear this news right away.”

My thoughts spun. Did Cappy know something about Joe?

“There’s been another ‘I said. You dead’ murder.”

“Oh, no. Oh, crap. Where are you?”

“There’s no need for you to come,” Cappy said, anticipating my next move.

I was already picturing waking Mrs. Rose and bringing Julie and Martha over when Cappy said, “No, really, Linds. CSU is here. We’ll start a canvass when we’ve cordoned off the scene.”

“Cappy, please. What the hell happened?”

“Oh. Sorry. At around 4 a.m. on Pine Street, a manager wasbringing trash to a dumpster leased by the apartment building where he works. That’s where the manager found the vic. The ‘I said. You dead’ bit was written on her right forearm in lipstick. We’re taking her body to the ME’s office. Female in her mid-thirties, lying face up. No ID. The manager didn’t touch her and didn’t recognize her. Says he’s never seen her before. Hold a second … Lindsay, Ali wants to talk to you.”

Alexandra “Ali” Barnhart worked the night shift in the crime lab. I gripped my phone and waited out the shuffling sounds and other background noise until she came on the line.

“Sergeant? I’ll know more in a few hours, but I can tell you this: The victim was wearing expensive duds. Like going-out-to-dinner clothes, not party clothes. Her panties were ripped, but her skirt was in place and she wasn’t exposed. Her handbag was present but empty. No wallet, no makeup, no phone, no car keys. I didn’t see any skin or blood under her nails, which were well manicured. I bagged her hands.”

“Cappy’s bringing in the building manager for questioning?”

“Yes. His name is Ruben Burnett. He’s in the car now.”

I heard a grumble of a loud truck motor in the background. It sounded like a garbage truck.

“Is there enough light for good photos in situ?”

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