Second Chance

Chapter 21

WE HAD BEEN made fools of by the killer. No one on the block knew anything about or had any connection to the stolen van. It had been dumped there, purposely, to show us up. Even as Clapper's CSU went over it inch by inch, I knew it wouldn't yield shit. I studied the decal and I was sure it was the same thing I had seen in Oakland. One head was a lion's, one seemed to be a goat's, the tail suggested a reptile. But what the hell did it mean?

“One thing we learned.” Jacobi smirked. “The SOB's got a sense of humor.” “I'm glad you're a fan,” I said.

Back at the Hall, I said to Lorraine, “I want to know where that van came from; I want to know who it belonged to, who had access to it, every contact the owner had a month prior to its theft.”

I was fuming mad. We had a vicious killer out there but not a single clue as to what made him tick. Was it a hate crime or a killing spree? An organized group or a lone wolf?

We knew the guy was fairly intelligent. His strikes had been well planned, and if irony was part of his plan, dumping the getaway car where he had was a real beaut.

Karen buzzed in, informing me that Ron Vandervellen was on the line. The Oakland cop came on chuckling. “Word is you managed to subdue a dangerous threat to our society masquerading as a legal watchdog in the Anti-Defamation League.”

“I guess that makes our investigations about equal, Ron,” I retorted.

“Relax, Lindsay, I didn't call to rub it in,” he said, shifting his tone. “Actually, I thought I would make your day.”

“I won't argue, Ron. I could use anything about now. What do you have for us?”

“You knew Estelle Chipman was a widow, right?”

“I think you mentioned that.”

“Well, we were doing some standard background on her. We found a son in Chicago. He's coming to claim the body. Given what's been going on, I thought what he told us was too coincidental to ignore.”

“What, Ron?”

“Her husband died five years ago. Heart attack. Want to guess what the dude did for a living?”

I had the rising feeling Vandervellen was about to blow this thing wide open.

“Estelle Chipman's husband was a San Francisco cop.”