The judge told the clerk to strike Goodfriend’s last comment from the record. Then he instructed the jury that the witness’s characterization of Mr. Herman and his further opinion that his life
was in danger were not evidence and that the jurors were not to consider it during their deliberations.
Yuki controlled herself, but she was elated. Nicky Gaines nudged her. He was grinning like a jack-o’-lantern. Another point for the prosecution. Hey: Team Yuki was on a roll.
Chapter 25
I LEFT BRADY’S office and crossed the fluorescent-lit, twenty-by-thirty-foot bull pen/obstacle course, getting hugs and high fives from cops I’d known for a long time. At the front of the room were two gray metal desks butted head-to-head. One of those desks was mine. The other belonged to my partner.
A cute young woman with dark wavy hair, wearing a white T-shirt and tight jeans, was sitting in my chair. She was in deep conversation with Conklin, who got to his feet when he saw me.
“Boxer, hey. Good to see you.”
He gave me a gender-neutral hug, but a good one, and then said, “Meet Mackie Morales, our summer intern. Mackie, my partner, Sergeant Lindsay Boxer.”
Morales got out of my chair and reached out to shake my hand. She said she’d heard so much about me, and then she told Conklin she’d be in the file room.
He said, “Wait, Mackie. I’m going to bring the sergeant up to speed on the Faye Farmer case. Stick around for that.”
“Sure,” I said. “Stay.”
It’s rare to meet someone you like immediately, but I felt good about Mackie Morales. She had an open smile, a good handshake, and apparently Conklin approved of her.
“Thanks,” she said. She pulled a spare chair up to our desks, and I asked Conklin what he had on Faye Farmer.
“I was just on my way to notify her parents. Ask them about my list of her friends, her devotees, and her detractors,” Conklin said. “CSIU is down in the ME’s office now, going over the premises for trace after the body went missing.”
“The Chronicle just broke the story online,” Morales told me. “We’ve got phone calls, tweets, e-mail, and our website is swamped.”
Conklin said, “While Mackie runs down the phone leads—”
He never got to finish his sentence. Brady came out of his office, strode toward us, and then loomed over our desks. He said to Conklin, “Remember that weirdo professor, dreamed about a murder?”
“Dr. Perry Judd,” said Morales.
“The woman he described yesterday was gunned down in Whole Foods an hour ago. Same woman, down to the green-bead necklace and the roots growing out of her blond hair. Conklin, you and Boxer check out the scene. Then go pick up the professor. Talk to him again.”
Morales leaned over my shoulder and pulled up the professor’s contact info on my computer while I called Joe.
I didn’t like the sound of his voice when he answered.
“Joe, what’s wrong?”
“It’s going to be okay, honey, but Julie has a little fever.”
My stomach clenched and the blood left my head. I thought I might be sick all over my desk.
“How little is little?”
“It’s a hundred and three. It’s not unusual for a baby to have a fever, so I’m just letting you know. Don’t worry about this. I’ll see you later.”
“Joe, you’ll see me in twenty minutes. I’m leaving now.”
“Lindsay, no. I’ve got her. Everything is under control.”
“How do you know that?”
Conklin said, “Boxer, you okay?”