3rd Degree (Women's Murder Club 3)

“Don’t mean to tell you your job, Inspectors”—Carl Danko smiled—“but that sounds like a lot of crazy suppositions to me.”

“Your son had a code name,” I said, “August Spies. August Spies is the name that’s being used by the people who are doing these killings.”

Carl Danko snorted derisively and reached for a pipe. He seemed to find all of this humorous.

“Do you know anyone who might be involved?” I pressed. “One of Billy’s friends? Maybe someone’s been in touch with you lately?”

“Whoever is doing it, God bless him.” Carl Danko cleaned out his pipe. “Truth is, you’ve wasted your time coming out here. I can’t help you a lick. And if I could… I hope somehow you can understand why I might not be so disposed to help the San Francisco Police. Now please leave my house.”

Jacobi and I stood up. I took a step toward the door, praying for some kind of epiphany before I got there. I stopped at the picture of his wife. Then I noticed a photo next to hers.

It was a family shot.

Something caused me to focus on the faces.

There was another son in the photo.

Younger. Maybe sixteen. A spitting image of his mother. The four of them smiling, not a care on what seemed a pleasant, sunny day in the distant past.

“You have another son.” I turned back to Danko.

“Charles…” He shrugged.

I picked up the photo. “Maybe we should talk to him. He might know something.”

“Doubt it.” Danko stared at me. “He’s dead, too.”

Chapter 90

BACK IN THE EXPLORER, I called in to Cappy. “I want you to run the background on a Charles Danko. Born in Sacramento, 1953–54. Possibly deceased. That’s the best I have. And go back as far as you have to go. If this guy’s dead, I want to see the death certificate to prove it.”

“I’ll get on it,” Cappy said. “Meanwhile, I got one for you. George Bengosian, Lieutenant. You were right, he did get a pre-med degree from the University of Chicago. But that was after he transferred there from Berkeley. Bengosian was there in ’sixty-nine.”

“Thanks, Cappy. Great work. Keep it up.”

So now we had three—Jill, Lightower, and Bengosian—who were tied to the murderous police raid on Hope Street. And the code name August Spies linked to Billy Danko.

I didn’t know what to do with it yet. As Danko said, it was all a bunch of suppositions.

While Jacobi drove back to the city, I finally dozed for a bit. It was my first solid sleep in three days. We got back to the Hall about six. “In case you were wondering,” Jacobi said, “you snore.”

“Purr,” I corrected. “I purr.”

Before heading back to my office, I wanted to check on Molinari. I ran upstairs and squeezed myself into his office. A meeting was in progress. What was this?

Chief Tracchio was sitting at his desk. So was Tom Roach from the FBI. And Strickland, who was in charge of the G-8 advance security.

“Lightower was there,” I announced, barely able to hold back my excitement. “At Berkeley—at the time of the BNA raid. George Bengosian was, too. They were all there.”

“I know,” Molinari said.

Chapter 91

IT ONLY TOOK ME A SECOND. “You

found the FBI file on the BNA?”

“Better,” Molinari said. “We found one of the FBI agents who was in charge of the raid on Hope Street.