"Where?" Steve slid into the passenger's seat as Mike threw the LTD into gear and pulled away from the curb.
"Palace of Fine Arts"
Steve shook his head, "What do we know?"
"Woman walking her dog found the body about 6:00 am. Nothing's been touched because of the way the body was, um displayed. Fortunately, the first uniform on the scene was up to date on his bulletins. He called it right in, they called me, I called Lenny."
"Oh." Steve stared out the window, steeling himself for the murderous tableau.
The press had christened him or her "The Da Vinci Killer." This would make the third body in two weeks. Victims staged to resemble famous works of art. Despite monumental effort on the case, they were no closer to finding out the identity of the killer than they were after the first body turned up. Steve wondered idly what art work would be copied in fatal homage this time.
Victim number one was Gary Kohler, a local street artist who sold painting of the Golden Gate Bridge at Fisherman's Wharf. He was found naked on the roundabout for the Powell Street line, in a pose reminiscent of Da Vinci's "Vitruvian Man." Neither Steve nor Mike had made the art connection and had barely begun the investigation when victim number two showed up in the koi pond at Golden Gate Park.
"It's Ophelia" Steve told Mike when they had gotten their first view of the second victim. The as yet to be identified 20-something woman floated in the shallow water with only her face and hands exposed. Her long reddish hair and full length dress billowed in sinuous clouds around her head and body. Wild flowers dotted the surface of the still water. Steve knew a little about art history from college classes, and "Ophelia" was a fairly common subject but this version, by Pre-Raphaelite artist Millais, was used in every English literature textbook he had ever seen.
Mike and Steve were just linking the two murders together when the press had jumped on the case, declaring the presence of a serial killer in San Francisco. Why or how the newspaper had gotten their information was a mystery to the detectives, but the sensational press attention would not help them a bit.
"Do we have enough manpower to keep the press away from the scene?"
"God, I hope so." Mike, in particular, was irked by the speed with which the fourth estate arrived and exploited cases like this. "Damn reporters are like a school of piranha, especially that Joe Randolph."
Steve shook his head in agreement, "How the hell do you think he finds out about these scenes so quickly?"
"Wish I knew," Mike said as he pulled the LTD up the curb. The pair were barely out of the car when they were accosted by the very report.
"What do we have Lieutenant?" asked Randolph, notebook and pencil in hand.
"I just got here, Joe," Mike responded with exasperation, "You probably know more than I do at this point." Mike and Steve walked by the reporter without stopping and ducked under the crime scene tape.
"Is it the Da Vinci Killer?"
Mike stopped and wheeled on the reporter. "Why do you vultures have to capitalize on things like this?" Steve put his hand on Mike's sleeve, but Mike was already on a roll. He took a step back toward Randolph, dragging Steve with him. "The Da Vinci Killer. You gave him a name and a stage. Now he's famous, the public's terrified and our job is twice as hard."
"I'm only doing my job, Lieutenant. The public has a right to know. If the police can't handle the scrutiny, well…"
"Mark my words, the more you sensationalize things like this, the worse they get," Mike paused in anger, "and the more people will die. You're making this guy into some kind of celebrity and giving him exactly what he wants."
"His 15 minutes of fame," Steve added the Andy Warhol quote quietly without even thinking. Mike turned and glared at him before turning back to the reporter.
"This has NOTHING to do with public's right to know. This has everything to do with selling papers and making your byline more important."
Steve doubled his hold on Mike's arm, attempting to put the brakes on his rant. Even though Mike was vocalizing his exact thoughts, he knew antagonizing the press would just make things worse.
Mike shook off Steve's grip. "Good day, Mr. Randolph." He spun and strode purposefully down the lawn. Steve turned and jogged to catch up with Mike.
"Why do you let him get to you like that?"
"He's a real bottom feeder, that one," Mike shook his head in disgust.
"I know, I know. But how about you cool it and let me fly off the handle next time, Lieutenant? You are the boss and have a reputation to protect." Steve said with a wink.
Mike smiled and swatted Steve on the arm, "Wise guy!"
The light moment evaporated as the latest victim came into view. "Sweet Jesus." Mike said in a whisper.
"No, it's Saint Sebastian."
"What?"
"You said "Sweet Jesus, but it's not, it's Saint Sebastian."
"How the heck do you know that?"
"Endless hours in in the dark."
"What? Mike was getting impatient.
"College. Art history class. You come in, they turn off the light and show slide after slide after slide as they drone on and on and on. I guess I actually absorbed some of it, when I wasn't sound asleep." Steve pointed to the body. "That is Saint Sebastian."
They both gaped at the corpse of a handsome, well-built young man. He was chained to one of the classical columns of the circular temple, which was the centerpiece of the park.
00000
Lizzy started as the alarm clock announced the beginning of another day. As anticipated, she had been up until the wee hours of the morning, turning in after 3 am. Looking down at the clothes she'd slept in, she decide they would have to do. She brushed her teeth, put on some deodorant and braided her hair. Good enough for a Friday. She was just making tea when she heard the apartment door unlock and open.
"You're up early," she called as Pam stumbled in the door, "Want some tea?"
"Late, I'm up late," Pam corrected, slamming the door shut and walking into the galley style kitchen. "And, yes, I'd adore some tea. I don't know how I'm going to stay awake in class today."
"You're actually going to class?" Lizzy eyed her friend, who looked tired and slightly disheveled. All she could think of was how much better Pam looked in her new clothes that she would.
"Yeah, I have to. That old witch Eichenmuller said she was gonna flunk me if I don't turn up."
Lizzy picked the teapot up and poured two mugs, setting them down on a small table before dropping into a seat. "Hey, it's just drawing anatomy, only three hours, then you can take a nap."
"Thank God for small favors and Friday afternoons off."
"I know, I wish I didn't have to go to work this afternoon, I'm wrecked."
"Can't you blow it off this afternoon?"
"Not if I want to eat. How was the concert?"
"Unbelievable, too bad you missed it. Afterwards was pretty great, too. I met this cool guy from…"
"Save me, I don't want to know," Lizzy talked over her friend after draining her cup. She got up and grabbed her bag and case, "Do me a favor, would you please hang up my NEW outfit before you go to class, I'd like to wear it tonight to the opening."
Pam looked down at the outfit and smiled, "What this old thing?"
Lizzy rolled her eyes as she opened the door. "See you after work. Are you going to wait for me, or should I meet you at the gallery?"
"Meet me there, I'll leave the invitation on the counter, if I can find it."
Lizzy was half way to class before she remembered that Pam had wanted to tell her something. Guess it wasn't that important.
She was walking down the hall to the studio when Jeff came out of the anatomy classroom door.
"Hey" Jeff smiled as he slung his bag over his shoulder.
"Hey yourself. What's up?"
"Ted didn't show. Eichenmuller's pissed. She canceled class."
Pam truly did live a charmed life. Lizzy considered going to the payphone and calling the apartment. No, it would do her good to drag her ass down here, even if class was canceled.
00000
"What do we have Bernie?" Mike asked as he and Steve approached the coroner.
"White male, 25-30."
"Cause of death, time?"
"Geez, Mike. I've been here all of ten minutes. I haven't even gotten near the body. Photos are done, the Lab guys are checking it out now. Although I can tell you for certain the arrows had nothing to do with it. No blood from the wounds, he was dead before he was skewered. Whoever is killing these folks is a real nut job."
Now up closer, Mike could see that the man's well-muscled torso served as a pincushion for a half dozen or more arrows. His body was nude save for a small white drape across his groin. Heavy chains bound him to the column, keeping him upright. His head sagged to the left, chin to chest.
"Martyrdom of St. Sebastian, although I can't tell you if the perp was going for Botticelli, Mantegna, Bernini or Rubens, they all used the same subject, amongst many other artist." Lenny Murchison said as he came abreast of the three men.
Mike looked sideways at Steve, who shrugged his shoulder.
"Lenny."
"What? I have a minor in art history, so sue me."
"What does it tell us about the killer?"
"Other than the fact that he is well educated?"
"Yeah, other than that."
"I'm still working on that, but I think Bernie's assessment was pretty accurate. Nut Job is as good as any description right now."
"For this, we pay the big consulting bucks." Mike looked over and saw one of the patrolmen trying to calm a woman with a Chihuahua in her arms. "Steve go talk to the witness, see if you can get anything from her, I'll stay here with our two experts."
00000
Steve walked towards the edge of the park, happy to put some distance between himself and the latest victim.
"Inspector Keller, this is Mrs. Harrison."
"Mrs. Harrison, I understand that you are the one who found the body."
"Yes, yes I did. I was taking Brutus here for his morning walkies. We live just across the way." She indicated a house directly across the street, in full view of the crime scene. "We'd only gone a little way down the path when Brutus started barking to beat the band. I tried to get him to stop, but he kept at it, finally I looked up and saw, saw…" Steve gave the woman his handkerchief as she started to weep and cuddled the struggling dog closer to her breast. "Well I think pour Brutus is just as upset as I am. There, there pumpkin, mommy's got you."
"What time was that Mrs. Harrison?" Steve attempted to get the witness back on track.
"Well it had to be a little after 6. Harvey had already left for work and the paper was delivered, so definitely 6. This is really horrible. I read all about the girl at Golden Gate Park and the man on Powell Street in the paper. Do you think it's the same person?"
"We don't know ma'am."
"Well, I tell you it's just terrible, a person's not safe in this city anymore. Why, that Mr. Randolph in the paper says…"
Steve politely cut her off. "You live right across the street, did you hear or see anything odd last night?"
"Last night, last night. Well, I watched Flip Wilson at 8. Have you seen that Inspector? The devil made me do it! And of course Ironside was on at 9. I did watch something at 10, some cop show, but I don't recall what it was. Then I took Brutus out before I went to bed."
Steve listened patiently, this wasn't going anywhere. "Anything else, Mrs. Harrison?"
"Now let me think, I got up about 2 am. Brutus was making an awful racket. I did look out the window because I heard a lot of banging and music, that awful rock and roll music. I saw one of those cars, you know the kind that hippies used to drive, looks like a box on wheels. Probably was a bunch of kids smoking dope. I watch the news you know. I should call the city because it was parked right up on the grass, ripped up half the lawn over there."
Steve thought a moment. "A Volkswagen Bus? Did you notice what color it was?"
"I guess that's what they are called. I didn't see the color, it was dark but it had those bumper sticker things all over the back."
"Thank you very much ma'am. If you remember anything else, anything at all, give me a call." Steve fished a card out of his pocket and handed it to the middle aged woman. The uniformed officer walked Mrs. Harrison across the street as Steve returned to the crime scene.
The body was in the process of being loaded into a van when Steve rejoined Mike and Lenny.
"Anything"
"Maybe. She remembered seeing what might be a VW Bus up here on the grass about 2am. Whoever it was made a lot of noise. She said the vehicle had a lot of bumper stickers on the back. We probably should get the uniforms to talk to the neighbors, see if anybody else saw anything. Bernie get anything?"
"Yeah. A .22 in the base of the brain, just like the other two. Body also reeked of pot. Odds are, whenever he died, he didn't feel a thing."