An Unladylike Murder, page 3
part #1 of Jessica Sloan Mystery Series
Don’t they understand that every other city in America is begging our tech companies to move to their area while offering us billion dollar enticements?
We’re stuck with stupid, no growth politicians, activists, drug addicts and homeless trash.
She ignored that San Francisco had a rich history of protest. Protests like this one had grown commonplace and were usually small and non-violent.
There was a loud thump.
She snapped her glance forward.
Her date was cowering away from the side window as a masked protester in white Tyvek coveralls holding a can of spray paint started to deface the side of the bus.
This guy’s a wuss. I wouldn’t hire him to make coffee.
Hopefully the bodyguards that Coyne promised me are waiting at the theatre.
Jill raised her concern. “Am I safe in here?”
The limo driver replied loudly. “The doors are locked and I’ve already called 911 asking for immediate help, Miss Gillberry.”
A filthy hobo with long greasy hair, wearing ill-fitting hand me downs started to use a megaphone while reading from a note card. “Each one of you soulless techies is a parasite who has taken space away from someone who belongs here.”
Jill felt repulsed.
Only San Francisco can tolerate the intolerable.
The crowd responded by bobbing their signs and chanting, “Leave San Francisco or die, leave San Francisco or die.”
Why aren’t the damned police here, arresting them?
Her anger erupted. “I thought our new mayor was cleaning up the streets?”
The men in the front seat remained silent.
Using a bullhorn, a middle-aged man with black hair in a white shirt and faded jeans started to rile up the crowd. “We were here first and we don’t got nowhere to go, b-a-b-y.”
The signs were thrust up and down, as the chanting grew louder.
The homeless are like animals gnawing at wounds that refuse to heal.
Jill watched a new commotion on the sidewalk, as some of the protesters must have stepped away from the bus.
That part of the mob moved backwards towards the limo.
Her date said, “Some of the workers seem to be getting off the bus and are trying to leave.”
Jill watched as several hands held above heads were filming the event on their phones.
“They don’t understand that we’re just trying to upgrade the neighborhood.” She wasn’t speaking to either the driver or the actor. She was just venting.
The chanting and placard waving lasted for another five minutes before the crowd thinned and the bus was able to start moving.
I wish this city wasn’t so damn liberal and diverse!
Her driver shifted into drive and pulled into another lane to pass.
Within sixty seconds, they were free of the bus and the mob.
The driver said, “Don’t worry, Miss Gillberry, you’ll be right on time for the play and your security team is waiting at the curb for you.”
Chapter 6
Nothing about Lieutenant Brown was subtle.
She’d hung a large digital clock in the center of the main wall of the Homicide Division’s squad room. The Lieutenant liked to remind her detectives that the clock was always ticking, and each tick meant that their murder cases were getting that much colder.
Tick. Tock.
Rookie Detective Jessica Sloan glanced at the clock, then decided to test her new partner.
Someone had brought a dozen doughnuts into the squad room and Sloan watched in amazement at how fast they were snatched up.
She gave Cutter a verbal poke. “You’re not really going to eat that doughnut are you? Don’t you know how bad they are for your body?”
Her words only added to Cutter’s foul mood.
Sloan’s a millennial female, a techy and she talks too much.
“I think of each doughnut as a secret source of brain energy. If you don’t want yours, Sloan, I’ll be happy to eat it.”
Cutter had greeted Jessica Sloan with as much enthusiasm as he showed grieving parents when he had to do death notices.
With her trim looks, light brown hair and amber colored eyes, she’ll most likely get pregnant and quit within a year or two.
Cutter had paperwork to finish. “Either play with your new iPad or get to know your fellow Detectives Jose Garcia and George Lee better. I need to finish filling out a VICAP questionnaire.”
Garcia and Lee had already introduced themselves. They’d just arrested a wife killer and were focused on their paperwork.
Jessica glanced at Garcia’s middle age belly.
He’s got a sweet tooth.
So far she’d discovered that Garcia was thirty-nine, married and had two children, both girls.
His partner Lee was wiry thin, thirty-five, married with one boy and one unknown on the way.
Garcia and Lee were probably hired to reflect San Francisco’s diversity, yet less than fifteen percent of the entire force, is female.
Garcia must have noticed Sloan’s ignorant enthusiasm. “Enjoy your last few seconds of not being under the gun. Between investigations, going to court to testify and the odd day off, you’ll be busy soon enough.”
Sloan answered with a smirk.
John Cutter was filling out page twenty-nine of the thirty-page VICAP electronic questionnaire. He doubted the case he’d failed to close would match another one that hadn’t been solved yet, but it was another part of the job’s mandatory paperwork.
“This is one dumb ass computer program.”
“VICAP was designed and written before I was born, what do you expect,” Jessica was getting bored. “Would you like me to type it in for you, John?”
“I’m on the last page. Ya never know, this is one of those cases where I think it might get solved in a few years.”
“Why?”
“If I’ve learned one thing as a detective it’s that over the course of time, friendships and relationships end, loyalties change and consciences grow allowing us to solve some cold cases.”
Sloan added her perspective. “And technology might catch up with the evidence that’s been collected.”
Cutter looked up from his keyboard and shot her a blank look.
“Take DNA. It’s a great example where years later we can now include or exclude a suspect. Artificial Intelligence is now making great advances. Besides, from what they told me about the new system, it should be able to fill out that thirty page VICAP form for us.”
Cutter nodded begrudgingly.
Lieutenant Brown’s voice rang out in the squad room. “Cutter. Sloan. You’re up.”
She didn’t have to say that another dead body had been discovered. Unlike detectives in many other large cities, San Francisco Homicide Detectives only investigate murders.
Sloan was quick to rise from her desk.
Here I go.
She watched as Cutter logged off his computer and stood up slowly.
He was taking both turmeric and ibuprofen as he tried to manage the growing pain in both knees. Today it was the right one which was aching the worst.
He arrived at his boss’s office a full step behind his new partner.
Lieutenant Susan Brown was standing behind her desk.
She looked up. “They have a dead body they feel is a murder victim over in the Orpheum Theatre.”
Sloan asked, “Why do they think it’s a murder?”
Brown gazed at Sloan, wondering where her brains were. “We’re treating it as a homicide until you and Cutter learn more. Officers are on the scene and you’ll have your warrant by the time you get there. The Medical Examiner and Forensics are on their way. The challenge is that there are over two thousand patrons currently in the theatre.”
Jessica felt her cheeks burning.
The Lieutenant looked at Cutter. “I’ve told the Patrol Supervisor to cordon off the body and to let the play continue.”
Cutter nodded. “Good. That’ll give me time to get things organized. I’d like authority for enough manpower and infrastructure to see and photograph everyone’s identification before we let them exit the theatre. In addition, I’d like a couple of buses to handle anyone who doesn’t have identification on them. That way we can bus them here to interview further.”
“Hold it right there, Cutter.” Brown shook her head. “I can’t let you inconvenience that many people.”
She turned towards Jessica. “Sloan, how would you recommend we deal with this situation?”
Cutter swiveled and stared at his new partner.
Sloan stood up straight. “If you could send a few men from the Forensic unit’s photographic department to video the crowd as they leave, we could use the new facial recognition ability in iPoirot to identify the people leaving the theatre.”
Brown shot a hard glance at Cutter. “Good call, Sloan. I’ll call them immediately.” Brown remained looking at Cutter as if her child had just beaten him in a contest.
Cutter was pissed but fought to control his anger. “Well, if that’s how you want to proceed then we should also start pulling surveillance camera footage from anywhere surrounding the crime scene and concert hall.”
Brown ignored him. “You two better get going.”
Cutter thought he saw Brown wink at Sloan before he closed the door to her office.
I’m being set up.
Chapter 7
Neither detective spoke or looked at each other as they rode the elevator. Once the elevator stopped at the parking level Cutter let Sloan exit first.
Cutter then pointed to where the Detectives’ official use vehicles were parked. “You’re driving, Sloan. We’re in the first Taurus.”
Sloan popped the trunk and placed her bulletproof vest and extra ammunition inside.
As she closed the lid, Sloan heard Cutter state, “I need to consider what we’re about to walk into and how I should handle it.”
There’s no ‘I’ in a partnership, asshole.
He’s telling me that it’s his case, and not mine.
Sloan got in the driver’s seat and held her tongue.
John’s fragile male ego is still fuming from Brown picking my idea instead of his.
He’s an idiot. One at a time, it would take us all night to process two thousand people.
She realized he was probably also still upset that he’d been given a female partner.
As they pulled out of the parking garage, Cutter decided to start Sloan’s real education. “I think I should tell ya that I’m not big on the internet or artificial intelligence bullshit.”
“Why is that?”
“It seems like every day we find out that another big retailer, bank or government agency has been hacked and all the names, social security numbers and credit card information has been stolen. Even our elections are being stolen. Who needs technology that doesn’t really work or can’t be protected properly?”
“I think you’re missing the big picture.”
“How’s that?”
“Have you found that using your smartphone and your desktop computer has made you more productive?”
“Maybe. But what if someone has hacked a database and put false evidence into it to frame someone. We’ll end up wasting more time than we’ll save.”
“Since we have to prove a case, wouldn’t we discover if that happened?”
Cutter felt he was losing the argument. “All I’m saying is that we need to be careful about blindly using iPoirot.”
“Well, let’s use it and we’ll find out.”
Cutter asked, “How did you know about the new facial recognition thing anyway?”
“It’s part of the iPoirot system. They had me for training on it for the last two weeks. I learned that its facial recognition technology is what Customs and Border Protection is already using to screen out people arriving in the US with false documents. If the photo ID and the person’s face don’t match, they are sent back to wherever they came from.”
“Hmm… So, why did you want to become a Homicide Detective instead of working at a tech company?”
Cutter’s as bad as my little sister.
“Don’t you think you’re being a bit nosey?”
“No, I’m appalling, nosey, and inquisitive. That’s what makes me a good detective.”
“Let me rephrase what I said. Don’t you know that there are questions you shouldn’t ask a female partner?”
“I was only asking why you chose to be a detective. If you worked at one of the tech firms, you might actually be able to afford to live here in San Francisco.”
“A woman needs to keep secrets to make her interesting.”
“Look Sloan, I don’t want to marry you. If two detectives are to become good partners, they need to understand and trust each other. You need to trust me with your secrets. So why’d you become a detective?”
Jessica mulled over her response for a full thirty seconds. “Fine, I’ll tell you. I’ve always liked helping people, keeping them safe. I remember when my parents would fight leading up to their divorce. I’d get my sister and myself up early and cook for us. In those moments, instead of fear we’d both felt safe. I guess you can say I like making people feel safe. How about you, John? Why did you become a cop?”
“I liked watching westerns as a kid. I’ve always wanted to be the good cowboy in the white hat who rode into town, got rid of the bad guy and then left the town in better shape than I’d found it.”
“Interesting. How many years have you been with the SFPD, Cutter?”
“Over twenty-five. That’s why it’s no secret that Brown is on my ass encouraging me to retire. She even told me that she needs a younger, more tech happy squad.”
That’s what she told me as well.
“Over twenty-five, wow. I’ll bet you’ve seen a lot of changes over that time.”
That’s almost as long as I’ve been alive.
“When I joined, it was a good-old-boys club. Now it’s a who-you-know culture with more minorities, and no offense intended, women, being forced on us.”
Offense taken and recorded.
Sloan asked, “A death at a high society event like the Orpheum Theatre is unusual, isn’t it?”
“It is.”
“Do you think it was one of the performers killing one of the show’s stars so they could take their place?”
“That sounds more like a plot for a murder mystery. The motive will probably turn out to be something more mundane like lust or greed. The best advice I can give you on this, your first case, is to let me do all the talking so you can learn.”
“That’s fine. I’ll take a few notes and do a quick social media look at whoever the deceased is.”
“With these new cameras I didn’t think we’d need to take notes anymore.”
Sloan smiled. “I like to make notes about a suspect’s behavior, then verify it after I look at the video.”
“That’ll work,” Cutter said, “I should tell ya that I’ve always thought that being the detective who gets to be in charge of a crime scene is like being a little kid coming late to a birthday party. The kids have all been in the pool and eaten the cake. Now we have to read the crumbs and figure out who did what, to whom, and why.”
Jessica kept her eyes on the road while Cutter kept talking.
“From the get-go, our job is to gather facts and collect evidence. While iPoirot might help us, nothing can compare to the tried and true method of getting out and beating the streets for information and clues. Since the new system still needs you and me to go out and do interviews, interrogations, examine records and documents and take photographs to feed it, you’ll soon see that without us, iPoirot is useless.”
Idiot.
Sloan finally commented. “I can understand your point of view for now. You may change your opinion once we’re fully using iPoirot.”
“Until it proves to be better than us, we need to do it the proven way.”
Having set the tone of the evening, Cutter said, “The beat cops will have already locked down the scene and put up the yellow tape but everything is in a time-out until we arrive and a warrant has been issued. The Medical Examiner and Forensics can’t enter and start processing until we give them the go ahead.”
“Yes, I know that. I did take and pass the Detective exam, Cutter.”
“Of course, sorry. Look, just so you know, I don’t hold your skills in tech against you. Each case is like putting together a jigsaw puzzle with all the pieces being scattered and needing to be fitted together to see the full picture. If technology can help us do that quicker, then I’m all for it… We’re here, pull around the corner.”
As Jessica pulled up, they ended up blocking one of the two lanes.
Cutter slapped the ‘San Francisco Police Official Business’ placard onto the dash. “Leave the lights flashing.”
Sloan knew the Taurus had a run lock ignition that allowed the car to run for an extended period without draining the battery.
If someone tries to steal the Taurus, the run lock system will cut the engine once the parking brake is disengaged.
Sloan held her iPad close to her chest.
While it was a beautiful and ornate theatre situated on a main street with easy access to transportation, the Orpheum Theatre stood on the edge of a rough area called the Tenderloin.
Detective Sloan already knew it well as a notorious open-air bazaar offering drugs and gender fluid prostitution.
She glanced down the street towards the Twitter company sign. It was another technology company that had taken advantage of tax breaks to move into the area of former warehouses, flop houses, and tattoo parlors.
She’d read the space had been vacant for five years before they’d leased it.
Even on a beautiful summer’s evening, there were no young techies on the sidewalks stretching their legs or finding a place for dinner.
Sloan said, “I’ve never been inside the Orpheum before. I must admit that I don’t get out much.”
“It’s impressive. Follow me.”
To enter the theatre one had to walk through a gauntlet of the homeless all while trying to avoid stepping on used needles, condoms and feces.
