"Lester was a hopeless idealist…a humanitarian with so many causes and such little capital to do what he wanted to do. But he never let that stop him."

Ivan Foster, the personable head of the Dolores Men's Shelter glanced down at the pictures Mike and Steve had laid out on his desk, one of them a mugshot, another one an assortment of the fibers found on the body, believed to be a cassock. A third one of Hernandez.

His thinning brown hair was combed straight back, a thick set of glasses sitting on his crooked nose that had seen one too many street fights. The small scars on his face spoke of a lifetime spent walking the streets of San Francisco, albeit for a very different reason than the two Homicide detectives sitting across from him.

"You said that Reverend Joe was sort of a persona he took on?"

Mike's question was answered with an affirmative nod and a genial smile.

"It sounds silly, doesn't it, Lieutenant? But it's who he was. It allowed him to transform from a man down on his luck to a person who could change the world by his example, to make a difference for others who were in the same position he was in. It was the most amazing transformation to witness."

Exchanging a brief glance with his partner, Steve cleared his throat, then pointed back at the pictures.

"Do you think that these small fibers shown here match the ehm…the cassock that he would wear?"

"Well…it certainly looks like it, young man, although I couldn't be a hundred percent sure. You see, it's been a few months since I've seen him. I had really hoped that he'd found his luck somewhere out east. This is not what I had expected. I sure hope that you are wrong and this isn't Lester."

They hadn't struck gold so far and the partial ID didn't help them much, but it was a start at least.

Nodding in acknowledgement, Steve waited for a couple of homeless men to walk past the open desk that Foster called his work station, located in the middle of a busy activity room full of game tables and a well-used kitchenette area, before speaking up again.

"Were you aware of anybody who'd like to see Lester dead? Did he have trouble with some of the homeless people around here?"

"Everybody has trouble with somebody at one point or another…", Foster added, downplaying the serious question with an indifferent shrug, "Lester was no different. But he was a kind and forgiving soul, somebody you couldn't stay mad at. And certainly not anybody you would consider killing."

"Well, somebody did.", Mike cut in somberly and leaned forward, "And we need to figure out who that person is. Can you pinpoint the people he was with when you last saw him nine months ago?"

Never losing his cheerful demeanor despite the grim circumstances of their visit; the man scratched the stubbles on his chin for a moment, then raised his index finger, begging for patience as he reached into his desk drawer.

"You know, now that you mention it, there was a very peculiar guy who hung around a lot the last time Lester was here. That man…he wasn't one of our…tenants at the shelter, more or less a wandering spirit in this city. Almost completely blind too. I couldn't let him stay here because he had a raccoon as a pet."

Steve met Mike's knowing eyes the minute they made the connection, the net slowly but surely closing in on the truth.

"His name was Rick.", Mike added, causing the other man to nod.

"Yes, yes that was his name. How did you know, Lieutenant?"

"Good guess…", Mike countered flippantly, his right foot quietly tapping the well-worn linoleum floor below, "Do you have any idea where he stays? We've been trying to locate him but like you said, he's a moving target."

"I can't help you much there, Lieutenants, I am sorry. Seemed that he disappeared along with Lester. I haven't seen him roam around this shelter since."

"We heard that he had a protégé, so to speak. Somebody who was trying to follow in his footsteps.", Steve said, trying to steer the conversation into a different direction, "Do you know him or where we can find him?"

"You must be talking about Albert, young man. Yes, I know him. He stayed here with Lester but was on his way to get back on his feet, if you know what I mean. He said he was getting ready to start a new job and saving up to rent an apartment along Mission. That boy sure loved hanging out with Lester. They had so much fun together. Every time Lester put on a small charity event, Albert would be there helping out all day. He really adored Lester"

"Do you happen to know his last name or where we can find him, Mister Foster?"

"Oh, let's see…"

For a few brief seconds, the man seemed to scan through his mental database, his warm brown eyes resting on the images laid out on his desk. Then, with a slight jerk, he looked back up at the two San Francisco Homicide detectives.

"It's Neville. Albert Neville. But coming to think of it, he also disappeared around the same time Lester and Rick did."