5

Garreth hung up the phone. Denver was sending someone to break the news to Mossman's wife. They promised to get back about the jewelry. A message from the Coast Guard lay on Harry's desk. According to their charts, the body had most likely gone in somewhere along the southern end of the Embarcadero and the China Basin, although probably not as far south as Potrero's Point. Garreth noted the information in his notebook while he munched on pink wintergreen candy from the sack in his desk. They would need to start talking to people in that area, too. Perhaps someone had seen something.

Serruto came out of his office to sit on a corner of Garreth's desk. "What's the story on the floater?"

Garreth told him what they had so far.

Serruto frowned. "Robbery? Odd that the thief wouldn't take the hotel key, too, so he could rifle the room."

"Unless it's only supposed to look like a robbery."

The lieutenant tugged at an ear. "You have other thoughts?"

Garreth ate another piece of candy. "There's a bruise on his neck." He held a circle of his thumb and first forger against his own neck to indicate the size and location. "I remember another case with the same kind of mark, also with a broken neck. It's been within the last couple of years."

Serruto pursed his lips for a minute, then shook his head. "I'm afraid I don't remember anything like that. Keep thinking. Maybe you'll remember more." He went back into his office.

Garreth looked around the room. Evelyn Kolb and Art Schneider worked at their desks. He asked them if they remembered the case.

Kolb pumped the top of the thermos she brought to work every day, filling her cup with steaming tea. "Not me. Art?"

He shook his head. "Doesn't ring any bells."

Nor did it for anyone else in the squad room. Garreth sighed. Damn. If only he could remember something more. If only he could remember who worked the case.

Loud footsteps brought his attention around to the door. Earl Faye and Dean Centrello stormed in. He raised his brows. "You two didn't wreck another car, did you?"

Faye flung himself into his chair. Centrello snarled, "You know the Isenmeier thing? Turkey tried to cut up his girlfriend? Well, we have everything set to arrest the dude, statements from the neighbors and a warrant in the works. Then the lady says it's off. She refuses to press charges. Seems he asked her to many him."

"Save the warrant," Schneider said. "You can use it next time."

"Lord, I'd hate to see this fox chopped up," Faye said. He rolled his eyes. "Everything she wears is either transparent or painted on. The first time we went to see her—"

Kolb cocked a brow at Garreth. "Comes a pause in the day's occupation that is known as the fairy-tale hour."

Faye frowned but continued talking. Garreth listened with amusement. Faye was walking proof that the art of storytelling had survived the age of electronic entertainment. If short on anecdotes, he waxed eloquent on women or sports, or described crime scenes in graphic detail.

That thought nudged something in Garreth's head. He suspended all other thought, hunting for the source of the nudge. But the telephone shattered his concentration. The feeling of being close to something faded.

With a sigh, Garreth reached for the receiver. "Homicide, Mikaelian."

"This is the coroner's office, Inspector. We're starting the autopsy on your floater."

Garreth gathered a handful of wintergreen candy to eat on the way over to the wing where the coroner's office was located. He knew he would not feel like eating later.