First to Die

Chapter41

THE MURDER IN NAPA changed everything. There were blistering attacks on the way the SFPD was trying to solve the case. We took heat from everywhere. Sensational headlines announced the handiwork of a sadistic, deranged, completely new kind of killer. Out-of town news crews buzzed around the Hall. Tragic wedding pictures and wrenching family scenes were the lead on every TV newscast. The task force that I was heading was meeting twice a day. Two other inspectors from SCU and a forensic psychologist were added on. We had to provide our files for the FBI. The investigation was no longer confined to some embittered figure lurking in David or Melanie Brandt's past. It had grown larger, deeper, more tragic and foreboding. Canvassing area wine shops, Jacobi's team had unearthed a few names, nothing more. The bloody jacket was leading us nowhere, too. The problem was, the tux style was from four or five years ago. Of the fifteen Bay Area stores, not one maintained records of manufacturers' styles, so it was virtually impossible to trace. We had to go over their records invoice by invoice. Mercer tripled our investigators. The killer was choosing his victims with careful precision. Both murders had taken place within a day of the victims' marriages; both reflected specific knowledge of the victims, their lodgings, their itineraries. Both couples still had most of their valuables: watches, wallets, jewelry. The only things missing were the wedding rings. He had dumped the De Georges in a seemingly isolated place, but one where they were sure to be found. He had left other blockbuster clues for us to follow up. It didn't make sense. The killer knows exactly what he's doing, Lindsay. He knows what you're doing. Link the crimes. 1 had to find the common denominator. How he knew his victims. How he knew so much about them. Raleigh and I divided up the possibilities. He took whoever had booked the Brandts' and the De Georges itineraries: travel agencies, limo services, hotels. I took planners. Ultimately, we would find some link between the crimes. "If we don't make progress soon," Raleigh grumbled, "there'll be a lot of priests and rabbis in this town with a shit load of dead time. What's this maniac after?" I didn't say, but I thought I knew. He was after happiness, dreams, expectations. He was trying to destroy the one thing that kept all of us going: hope.