The news of another victim woke Steve up in a hurry.

"I'll be there in 15 minutes." Steve got out of bed and splashed water on his ashen face. He looked at his blood shot eyes and growing stubble and turned away in disgust. He threw on jeans, buttoned a flannel shirt over the tee he was wearing and walked out the bedroom door. Grabbing the keys to the LTD, his gun, cuffs and wallet, he ran his fingers through his hair. That was as good as it got 3 am.

Steve pulled the car to the curb and mounted the stair to Mike's front door, unwilling to wake the entire neighborhood with a car horn. Mike was waiting for him, fully dresses, with a cup of coffee extended as he opened the door. While Mike didn't look exactly fresh, he looked far better than the train wreck appearance Steve was sporting.

"You, my friend, are a saint." Steve took the mug out of Mike's hand.

"You, my friend, look like five miles of bad road. What the hell were you doing last night after you left the office?"

"Working, remember. I went to that gallery opening last night." He wisely kept the real cause of the red rimmed eyes to himself.

"Was it worth it?"

"I think so." He drained the cup and handed the mug back to Mike. "I'll tell you on the way. Where is this one?"

"Nob Hill."

"Great." Steve intoned. Nob Hill meant money and tourists. Money and tourist meant added pressure from city hall. Although after four victims, he didn't think the pressure could get any higher.

Mike held out his hand for the car keys. Steve dropped them in his palm and slunk over to the passenger side of the car, sliding in and slamming the door.

Mike pulled away from the curb, "So, what'd you find out?"

Steve saw Lizzy's disappointed face in his head as he related the events from earlier in the evening, the thought of having to interview her at Bryant Street weighing uncomfortably on his mind.

"So what's your take away?" Mike asked after Steve finished.

"Two things. I think we need to figure out what Walters and Campbell were talking about and we need to follow up with Grisko. I don't know why, but my instincts are telling me this involves her somehow."

Mike pulled the car into Huntington Park, past a black and white that was controlling access on the Sacramento Street side. They paused briefly, verifying with the patrolman that the other entrances were also secured, and drove up the broad path to The Fountain of the Turtles. Installed in 1955, it was a copy of a fountain in Rome. The focal point of the park provided the setting for the latest victim. As Mike and Steve got out of the car and approached the scene, the bells from Grace Cathedral across the street tolled 4 am.

A beautiful blond woman was posed naked, standing in one of the shell-shaped basins of the fountain. Her hair rippled gently in the breeze caused by the agitated water. "Even I recognized this one," Mike said quietly. "Birth of Venus."

Steve stared sadly at the murderous tableau. "Yeah, me too, Botticelli I think."

With the church and school across the street and the Fairmont Hotel one block over, Mike knew the scene had to be cleared quickly and quietly. He looked around to make sure he didn't see anyone from the press underfoot and spotted Bernie, who was slipping on a pair of Wellies.

"Before, you ask, I don't know anything." Bernie grunted as he pulled on his second boot. "As soon as we get public works to turn off the water, I'll go up and take a look. Photographer's already done and the lab boys are almost finished."

"Do you know who called it in?"

"You'll have to talk to the uniforms." The plaza went suddenly quiet as the water jets ceased their incessant pulsing. "That's my cue." With the help of a small step ladder, Bernie climbed into the fountain.

Mike turned and saw Steve staring blankly at the body. He was quick to rouse the tired young man from his apparent trance.

"You ok buddy boy?"

"Huh?" Steve turned a pale face towards Mike. "Did you say something?"

"Yeah, see if you can find out who called it in."

Steve turned his back on the fountain and took out his notebook, approaching one of the uniformed officers on the scene. He was copying down information when he heard Bernie swear and turned his attention to the quirky medical examiner.

"Shit. We got a problem Mike."

"What?" Mike asked with concern in his voice. He had never heard Bernie swear in all the years they had worked together.

"No gunshot wound. Her neck is broken and the lividity is all wrong. She probably was killed at least couple of hours before she was um, displayed."

"Copycat?" Steve thought the word as Mike said it aloud and swore under his breath. The detail of the gunshot wounds hadn't been in the papers. This inconsistency in the manner of death might be incredibly bad news. Now they could have two killers.

Bernie looked at Mike and Steve's stricken faces. "I'm not saying anything just yet. I won't know much of anything until I get her on the table."

Steve walked back over to Mike. "The body was found by a couple out for a late night, or I guess more accurately, early morning stroll. They're spending their honeymoon at the Fairmont." He motioned to one of the patrol cars, pointing to a couple huddled in the back seat. "You want me to talk to them?"

"No, you stay here, we don't want to give them a bad impression of SFPD."

"That bad?"

"I've seen corpses that looked more alive than you do right now, hotshot. You stay here with Bernie."

Mike walked over to the cruiser and opened the back door. "Mr and Mrs. Delmar, I'm so sorry to be meeting you under these circumstances." Mike pulled out his handkerchief and handed it to the young blonde who was resting her head on her new husbands shoulder, quietly weeping.

The husband spoke up. "What the hell is happening in this city? We came here to celebrate. Now this is what we'll have to remember from our honeymoon."

"Again, I'm terribly sorry, but I need to ask you a few questions. Trust me, we are working very hard to catch whoever did this. Please, can you tell me what happened?"

Mr. Delmar squeezed his wife's hand reassuringly and began, "Well, we left the hotel to get a little air and see if we could get something to eat, room service stopped at midnight."

"A walk at 3 am?"

The young man smiled coyly and his wife blushed. "Our honeymoon, Sir."

Mike shook his head, "um right, continue."

"We found a coffee shop and got a bite and decided to cut through the park on the way back to the hotel. When we got to the fountain, well there she was."

"It was horrible," Mrs. Delmar chimed in, "I'm the same age as that poor girl." She closed her eyes.

"Did you see anybody around?"

"No, it was very quiet." Mr. Delmar continued. "We walked back to the hotel and called the police from the lobby. The patrolman ask us to come back with him when he got to the hotel, and here we are. How much longer, uh…"

"Stone, Lieutenant Stone."

"We really would like to get back to the hotel, Lieutenant."

"Do you remember anything else?"

"No, that's it."

Mrs. Delmar suddenly opened her eyes and stared at her husband. "NO, WAIT, that's not all. Doug, tell him about the van."

"Oh right. Gosh I'm so messed up, I forgot all about that. When we saw the body we were both really shook up. We were kind of jogging back down the path and this blue VW bus just about ran us over when we were crossing the street."

Now Mike was interested. "You didn't happen to get a look at the back of it, did you, maybe get the plate?"

"No, we were just trying to get out of the way, but I'm pretty sure it was a California plate. Oh, and there were a bunch of bumper stickers on the back."

Maybe it wasn't a copycat after all. Mike could only hope that was the case.

Mike handed Mr. Delmar his card and instructed the patrolman to return them to their hotel. "We will need you to come down to Bryant Street and make a formal statement, but that can wait. Thank you so much for your help, folks. Again I'm sorry this happened. If you remember anything else, and I mean anything, please give me a call."

"Honestly, Lieutenant Stone, we just want to go back to the hotel and forget this ever happened."

He shut the door and the car pulled out in the direction of the Fairmont.

Mike walked back over to the fountain and noticed Bernie putting plastic bags over the victim's hands. He called up to Bernie. "What have you got?"

"She's got something on her hands, it actually looks like it's been there a while. I can't tell in this light, but I'll venture to say it's either paint or ink. It's under her nails and ground right into her fingerprints."

Steve looked at Mike. He had a very bad feeling about this, thinking about Lizzy and her roommate, Pam. "Another art student?"

"Looks like." Bernie called down from the fountain. "She's the right age. I'm done up here, but I'm gonna need some help getting her down once I cut the ropes and release her. Bring a sheet with you when you come up. We'll bag her when we get her to the ground."

Steve looked at Mike and shrugged his shoulders. He slipped off his boots and socks, turning up the hem of his jeans a few times. Grabbing a sheet out of Bernie's kit, he climbed up the stepladder and stepped into the basin. The young inspector was now completely awake. The water was ice cold.

Steve looked dejectedly into the cloudy blue eyes of the once beautiful young woman, quickly turned his head and shivered. "Let's get this done, my feet are freezing."

It was another hour before they managed to get the latest victim out of the fountain and into the van. Sunrise was still over an hour away when Bernie drove off with the body. Steve was sitting on the sidewalk, teeth chattering. The overnight temperature of about 45° F wasn't terribly cold, but after standing in the fountain for a protracted period, he couldn't get warm. He rolled down his pants legs and put his boots back on.

Mike offered his hand and pulled the young man up to a standing position. "I think we're done here. Let's get you some coffee and breakfast and then we'll see where we stand."

"I'm up for that, as long as it's not chili."

"You sure? I'll warm you right up. You know when I walked a beat…"

Steve put his palm on Mike's chest. "I know Mike."

"I've told you that one before, huh?"

"Just a few times." Steve smiled and reached into Mike's raincoat pocket, grabbing the car keys before he could react. "I know a place." Steve and Mike were just pulling out when they spied Joe Randolph exiting his car.

"How the hell does he keep finding out so fast?"

"Think of it this way Mike," Steve said, still shivering, as he turned the corner. "At least we got her, and us, out of the park before he turned up."

00000

Mrs. Molinaro was just unlocking the front door when Steve pulled the LTD up to the curb.

"You boys are up early on a Saturday. What you need?"

"Coffee." Steve stammered through chattering teeth, He had yet to ditch the bone chilling cold of the fountain. "And whatever breakfast will warm me up the fastest."

"Cold, Yes?"

"Very, cold?"

"I got just what you need, giovanotto. Warm you rapido."

They sat at the counter as she poured them two cups of coffee. Mrs. Molinaro then dissapeared through a door behind the counter. Mike and Steve savored the coffee in silence. When she returned from the back after several minutes, she bore a steaming skillet and a loaf of crusty bread. She dropped the skillet on the counter and grabbed two plates.

"Uova al Purgatorio." She thought a minute and reapeated in English, "Eggs in Purgatory. Best breakfast to warm you up. You eat now."

In the skillet were four poached eggs, swimming in a sea of fiery pepper-laden Marinara sauce. Mrs. Molinaro broke the bread with her hands a put some on each plate, then spooned eggs and sauce on as well. She looked at Steve's blood shot eyes, "Not only warms, cures..." she had to pause and think again, "How you say? Uh, hangovers? My Mona Lisa and Venus love this. Eat before it gets cold."

Steve stared at Mike at the mention of Venus. Mike finally noticed the blood shoot eyes. Mike looked smugly at Steve, who was now eyeing the eggs skeptically. "And you thought chili was a bad idea. You heard the woman, eat up, buddy boy."