Second Chance

Chapter 13

THE GUSTAVE WHITE PROJECTS were six identical redbrick high-rises on Redmond Street in West Oakland. As we pulled up, Vandervellen said, “Didn't make much sense... The poor woman wasn't ill, seemed to have okay finances, even went to church twice a week. But sometimes people just give up. Until the autopsy. it looked legit.”

I recalled the case file: There were no witnesses, no one had heard any screams, no one saw anybody running away.

Only an elderly woman who kept to herself, found hanging from a steam pipe in the basement, her neck at a right angle and her tongue protruding.

At the projects, we walked right into Building C.

“Elevator's on the fritz,” Vandervellen said. We took the stairs down. In the graffiti-marked basement, we came upon a hand-painted sign that read, “Laundry Room - Boiler Room.”

“Found her in here.”

The basement room was still criss-crossed with yellow crime scene tape. A pungent, rancid odor filled the air. Graffiti was everywhere. Anything that had been here - the body, the electrical wire she was hung with - had already been taken to the morgue or entered into evidence.

“I don't know what you're looking to find,” Vandervellen said with a shrug.

“I don't know either.” I swallowed. “It happened late last Saturday night?”

“Coroner figures around ten. We thought maybe the old lady came down to do her laundry, that someone surprised her. Janitor found her the next morning.”

“What about security cameras?” Jacobi asked. “They were all over the lobby and the halls.”

“Same as the elevator--broken.” Vandervellen shrugged again.

It was clear Vandervellen and Jacobi wanted to head out as quickly as possible, but something pulled at me to stay.

For what? I had no idea. But my senses were buzzing. Find me... over here.

“The race thing aside,” Vandervellen said, “if you're looking for a connection, I'm sure you know how unusual it is for a killer to switch methods in the midst of a spree.”

“Thanks,” I snapped back. I had scanned the room; nothing jumped at me. Just the feeling. “Guess we'll have to solve this one on our own. Who knows? By now maybe something's popped up on our side of the pond.”

As Vandervellen was about to flick off the light, something caught my eye. “Hold it,” I said.

As if pulled by gravity, I was drawn to the far side of the room, to the wall behind the spot where Chipman had been found hanging. I knelt, tracing my fingers over the concrete wall. If I hadn't seen it before it would've passed right by my sight.

A primitive drawing, like a child's, in bright orange chalk.

It was a lion. Like Bernard Smith's drawing but more fierce.

The lion's body led into a coiled tail, but it was the tail of something else... a reptile? A serpent?

And that wasn't all.

The lion had two heads: one a lion, the other possibly a goat.

I felt a knot in my chest, a tremor of revulsion, and recognition, too.

Jacobi came up behind me. “Find something, Lieutenant?”

I drew a long breath. “Pokemon.”