16th Seduction (Women's Murder Club 16)

Neddie took some cleansing breaths, then walked north a block and a half to to Joice Street, an alley with a grate where the asphalt met the curb. He had chiseled open this grate on an earlier excursion, and he pried it open now. Metal creaked and he dropped inside a drafty opening, holding on to the curb until he found footing on the metal ladder.

He heard water dripping, and cool air came up to greet him as he entered the new, still-under-construction tunnel for the Central Subway.

The tunnel was enormous. He pulled his penlight from a pocket and flicked it over the heavy machinery parked in the dark—the lifts and the auger and the backhoes. Then he headed north between the just-laid train tracks.

Rats scurried. His running shoes slapped at the low tide. He kept his light on the newly poured concrete walls, looking for the exit, and then his light kissed the ladder on the wall.

Neddie put the end of his penlight between his teeth and climbed thirty feet, hand over hand, finally shouldering open the drain. A moment later he took in the sweet air and the expansive freedom of his night flight. He ran; he pushed off walls and took the peaks and valleys of San Francisco’s exciting topography.

He was still flying when he reached Cordelia Street. He slowed and drafted behind three teenage boys, staying back and at the same time with them as they joked and laughed and horsed around all the way to Powell.

Neddie was imagining his entrance to the park, deep in his thoughts, eyes down, when he whumped into something soft and resilient. It was a very large dude.

“Hey. Watch where you’re going,” said the big man, who looked to Neddie like a grown-old high school football player.

Then he added the zinger, “Are you crazy?”

“I’m good. My fault,” Neddie said, jacking up his voice to his falsetto range.

The big dude bent to gather up his briefcase, his newspaper, and continued on. Then, as if a new thought had struck him, he stopped and turned to look at Neddie.

Neddie thought he understood why.

That newspaper headline—STEALTH KILLER. And something about Neddie had made the big dude think too much. He had seen the predatory intelligence in his eyes, the look that Neddie always tried to hide. And the big dude was paralyzed by that look.

Neddie thought he’d been recognized. He said it out loud. “Uh-oh.”

Quick, his hand was in his pocket, where he wrapped his fist around a loaded sharp. He’d never had a bit of trouble before, but the big dude was looking right at him. This was different. The guy wanted to fight.

He outweighed Neddie by sixty pounds. But so what? Neddie was ready. He looked at the big dude and said, “Game on.”

PART FOUR

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sp; CHAPTER 70

CONKLIN AND I were working at our desks when Claire came through the squad room door wearing a bloody gown and a cap, her mask pulled down and it appeared that she had something big on her mind.

I said, “You’ve got a report on that sux vial?”

She said, “I’m still waiting. I need you to come on over to my house. There’s someone I want you to see.”

“Something wrong with your phone?” Conklin asked my BFF.

“My calls, Inspector, went to voice mail. That would be my calls to the both of you.”

Oh.

The three of us thundered down the fire stairs, cut through the back door, and strode along the breezeway to Claire’s “house,” the offices of the chief medical examiner.

We passed through the waiting room, brushing by her gatekeeper and the loosely packed mob of law enforcement officers waiting to see Claire. She put up a hand and didn’t skip a step, as good as saying, “Not now!”

We passed Claire’s office and continued down the corridor until she stiff-armed the stainless steel swinging doors to the super-chilly autopsy suite. Rich and I stayed with her, stopping at the table with the body lying on it face-up under the lights.

Claire said, “The needle sticker has stuck again. At least, it sure looks like it. Meet Ralph Beardsley, CPA, DOA, RIP.”

Mr. Beardsley was a black male, about fifty, heavyset. “Look here,” Claire said, turning the man’s head to the side. There was a bite mark in his neck. Claire pulled down the sheet and showed me a bruise with a needle mark centered on his left pectoral.