A/N: Sorry for the posting delay. I spent a week cut off from cyberspace and enjoying my family. Then my brain was hijacked by another story. I hope everyone had a lovely Christmas and I wish you all peace, heath and great blessings in the New Year. MBC

Now back to the mystery!

"Sorry about the coward comment."

"It's ok, I probably deserved it. When I saw the picture this morning in the deli, I knew it was her. We had to hold off until the coroner tried to call her parents, but they're out of the country. I didn't want you to have to do this, honestly.

Lizzy shrugged her shoulders. "I guess it's better that I saw her, you know, closure and all that new age bullshit."

Steve didn't have a response for her last statement. He picked up the small gold key sitting on Mike's desk and turned it over in his hands.

"Do you know what it opens?"

"Locker at school, but as far as I know Pam's never kept anything in it."

"When can you access them?"

"The studios are pretty much open twenty-four seven. You know, artistes. There is a security guard on the Francisco St. entrance, through the alley. You can sign in and work whenever the mood strikes. But I don't even know where her locker is."

"Are they numbered?"

"Yeah, but the code on the key isn't the locker number." She showed Steve her key. "We're going to have to wait until Monday when the office is open to find out her number."

"Maybe, maybe not." Steve was pretty sure after four murders, compelling someone to open the office and retrieve the list wasn't going to be a problem.

"Any idea why she left it for you?"

"Not a clue, but she did say she wanted to tell me something, but, well, she never got a chance."

The last statement started Lizzy's tears in earnest. She put down her coffee and covered her face with her hands. Steve sat down behind the desk. He looked in the drawer for Mike's stash of handkerchiefs and slid one over to the weeping young woman. He got up to go over to her but she put her hand up to stop him. He sat back down, closed his eyes and leaned back in the chair, letting her cry herself out.

Time passed. He'd nearly fallen asleep when he noticed a change in the tone of her grief. He opened up his eyes; she was staring at him. "What?"

She wiped her face with the handkerchief and tossed it on the desk. "What now?"

Steve wasn't sure what or how much to say to her. It seemed cruel to tell her that she might be the center of this whole mess. He also wanted to talk to Mike before he said anything to Lizzy. He shelved the idea and went with a safer line of questioning.

"You said you thought someone was following you when you went to the market. Anything else weird happening lately?"

She thought about it for a moment, "Yeah, actually we've been getting a lot of hang up phone calls. I wanted to get a new phone number, but Pam laughed it off, just like always. She was really something."

"What do you mean?"

"Pam was what I guess you would classify as a free spirit. She kind of went where the wind blew her. She never really took anything too seriously. I guess being raised with money gives you that kind of freedom. She would dabble in anything and with anybody if it amused her and got her what she wanted."

Steve was surprised at Lizzy's sudden candor. "She have any enemies?"

Lizzy laughed. "Other than everyone in school?"

"So she did."

"No, not really. People were jealous of her, hell I was jealous of her. She was rich, beautiful and talented. She was like a bonfire. Everybody was attracted to her. Her heat and light made everything around her more beautiful."

Steve ran with Lizzy's metaphor. "Did anyone ever get too close and get burned?"

"No, she would never let that happen. I was probably the closest to her, living in her reflected glow. I never even got a sunburn." Lizzy smiled thinking of Pam as light. "She lived life by her own rules and made me crazy every single day, but no, I don't think anybody hated her enough to kill her."

Lizzy got up and stretched, excusing herself to the ladies room. Steve was starting to wonder what had happened to Mike. He should have been back from the scene by now. He poked his head through the door and gave a general call out. "Anybody heard from Mike?"

After receiving negative responses, he checked his watch. They had been back over two hours. He picked up the phone and made the promised call to Lizzy's boss at No. 9 Fisherman's Grotto. He was hanging up the phone when the crime scene tech from her apartment entered the office. He dropped the keys on the desk.

"Lt. Stone told me to bring theses here."

"How long ago?"

"About an hour or so."

"He happen to mention where he was going?"

"Nope."

Steve tried to figure out where Mike might have gone as the lab tech stood by, waiting silently.

"Any time frame for results?"

"I don't have a clue. With everything going on with the Da Vinci case, who knows? Although the Lieutenant mentioned this case might be related. Speaking of which, I need to get the tenants' fingerprints. I'll get the one set from the morgue. Can you bring the other girl down to the lab?"

"Sure. When can she get back into her place?" Steve was pretty sure Lizzy didn't have anywhere else to go, although the thought of her returning to the ransacked apartment gave him pause.

"We're done. I don't see any reason to maintain the scene. We have pictures and everything we need is in evidence already."

The lab tech left and Lizzy slumped back into the office. "What happens next?"

"First, I need you to come down to the lab for fingerprints so we can exclude yours from the ones we took at the apartment, and then, you have a decision to make. Do you want to go back to your apartment, or is there somewhere else you can stay?"

She thought it over for a moment, "Is it's safe?"

"I think so, if they wanted to get at you, they could have just hung around till you got back. We did put a temporary lock on the outside. You should probably change the door lock as soon as you can. I'll have a black and white swing by a few times tonight if it will make you feel better." It wasn't a perfect solution, but it was all Steve had at the moment."

Lizzy pinched the top of nose like she had a headache. She could stay with Nonna she supposed, but truth be told, she just wanted to be by herself tonight.

While she was thinking it over, Steve grabbed a piece of paper and left Mike a note; folding it over and picking up the keys. He walked around the desk and offered her his hand, pulling her up out of the chair. She brushed her hair out of her eyes, gave him a weak smile and proceeded out of the office. As they walked past his desk he scooped up the charging documents for Vince Molinaro.

"Fingerprints, huh?" That's a new one for me."

00000

Mike followed the cab carrying the artist at a discrete distance. The sun was just about down and traffic was picking up as San Francisco geared up for a busy Saturday night. The cab swung around on Chestnut and backtracked, making a right on Polk. After 20 tortuous minutes of traffic lights and stop signs, it pulled up to the Mitchell O'Farrell strip club on the corner of Polk and O'Farrell in the Tenderloin. Mike drove past at a safe distance and pulled over as Walters exited the cab.

Thinking this trip was nothing more than a distasteful diversion for the lecherous teacher and a waste of his time, Mike looked back at the scene in the rear view mirror. He was surprised when Walters walked past the entrance and continued along O'Farrell Street, disappearing into a dismal, deserted looking 3 floor walk-up. He considered following, but age, experience and a feeling he knew where Walters was headed stopped him. He looked for a phone booth instead, spying one on the corner. Leaving the car, he dialed the number for the office.

"Homicide, Lessing."

"Lee, it's Mike. Is Steve around?"

"He just left with Grisko, I think he was taking her down to the lab for prints."

"Do me a favor, get the Kohler file off my desk."

"The victim on the Powell Street Line roundabout?"

"He's the one."

Lessing walked into the office and picked up the file. He saw the note Steve left on the desk and retrieved it as well, returning to the phone.

"Got it, Mike. What are you looking for?"

"Home address."

Mike heard papers shuffling and then Lessing's voice sounded on the other end of the line.

"842 O'Farrell, Apartment 3. Nice neighborhood." he added sarcastically.

Mike was intrigued. What the heck was Walters doing visiting the home of a dead man? Even more interesting, when questioned at the school, he had made no mention of knowing the first victim, even when Steve had asked him point blank about the deceased alum. Could Steve be right about the arrogant teacher?

"Thanks." Mike was about to hang up when Lee spoke again.

"Hold on, Steve left you a note, you want me to read it?"

"Shoot"

"Mike, I'll put the paperwork in on Molinaro. He can stew overnight, we'll question him in the morning if that's ok. I'm taking Miss Grisko to get printed and see if the lab has anything for us on the Nob Hill crime scene or the van, then I'm going to run her home. I'll make sure to get a black and white to run by her place a couple of times tonight just to be safe. After that, I'm gonna to call it a night, I'm beat. Give me a call later."

Mike looked at his watch, it nearly 7. He had to admit, he was tired as well. He was getting a little too old for 3 am wake-up calls. He again considered following Walters up to the apartment. By myself and tired, bad idea Mike. He could call for backup, but the lab team had already checked the place out once and found nothing, so Mike wasn't sure what the point of following Walter's up would be. Steve and he would come back in the morning and take another look.

"Lee, do me one more favor. If you see Steve, tell him I got his message and I'll phone him later. I'm heading home."

"Will, do. Goodnight Mike"

He got back in the car and waited for another half hour, but Walters never reappeared. He drove home, mulling over this latest twist. What the hell was Walters up to?

00000

Lizzy was at the sink making a futile attempt at removing the printing ink from her fingers. Steve had stepped out when Lizzy was being fingerprinted, finishing up the paperwork on Vince's arrest. He was just walking in as she tossed a paper towel in the trash.

"Good thing I'm an art student. My hands look like this most days of the week."

She picked up her purse and followed Steve out to the car.

"You sure about this? You've had a rough day. Between Pam and you're place being trashed, we could find someplace else for you tonight. Maybe you could stay with Mrs. Molinaro. She probably could use the company."

"I actually thought about it, but I'd rather be alone. It's ok, Keller. I'm a big girl. I can handle it."

They drove in silence. Steve pulled the car up to the curb in front of the darkened deli.

Lizzy looked at the closed store. "It's weird to see the place dark. I'm sure there are a lot of unhappy, hungry folks out there right now."

Steve got out and opened the door for Lizzy. She followed him up the steps and waited while he unlocked the door and flipped on the lights. It was worse than she remembered. She stood still in the open doorway stunned to silence.

After closing the door and making a quick check of the apartment, Steve came back to the front door. Lizzy was still standing mutely in place.

"Crap" Lizzy swore almost to herself. "This is going to take me all night to clean up."

Steve bent over and started dropping the spilled groceries into the sacks on the floor. He picked up the bags and set them on the counter.

"What are you doing?"

"If it's going to take all night, maybe we should get started?" Steve took off his jacket and dropped it next to the groceries. He walked over and began to upright the furniture.

"You don't have to do this."

"Protect and serve, Ma'am. Just part of the job." He gave her a lopsided grin, momentarily sidelining his exhaustion, and put the cushion back on the couch. He really did feel for the spunky art student. Bad day didn't even begin to cover what happened to her. This was the only way he could think of to help her get through the next few hours. She shrugged and grabbed the trash bin, starting on the opposite side of the room.

After about two hours and several trips to the dumpster, the apartment began to resemble a habitable living space. Steve went over to the sink, got a glass of water and washed the grime off his hands. It occurred to him that he was starving. He looked at his watch. It was past nine and he was pretty sure he hadn't eaten since breakfast.

Lizzy came out of Pam's room and shut the door. Her eyes were wet with tears. She had been very quiet for most of the evening and Steve didn't force the issue. She wiped her eyes with her sleeve and flopped down on the couch. Steve got another glass from the cupboard and filled it at the sink, joining the young woman on the couch.

"Hungry?" He handed her the water, which she downed in one gulp.

"Actually, yeah, now that you mention it."

"Is there any place around here other than the deli?"

Lizzy got up and walked over to the fridge. Most of the fresh food she'd just bought had to be tossed. She pulled out a loaf of bread and some sliced cheese. "I make a mean grilled cheese sandwich, you game?"

"You don't have to do that." He knew she was broke.

"Yeah I do, thanks for the help." She pulled two bottled of Cokes out of the fridge and tossed him one, then put a skillet on the stove.

"I'll try not to spill this one, OK?" Steve laughed as he took a long pull from the bottle.

After their impromptu supper, Steve slipped on his jacket. He wrote his home number on a scrap of paper laid it on the counter. "Are you positive you are ok being here tonight? It's not too late to change your mind."

"Yeah I'm sure. It'll be fine. I really need to do this."

They stepped out on the landing. She gave him a quick hug. "You know what Keller? For a cop, you're not so bad."

"Thanks, I think." He smiled. "You have my number. If you need anything, call me. Doesn't matter what time it is, OK?"

"OK."

Steve waited while she locked the door, then trudged down the steps and out onto the street. He sat behind the wheel for a moment before he turned over the engine. It had been a long time since he had felt this tired. His jaw ached from its close encounter with Vince's fist and he still had to talk to Mike once he got home. Looking back at the apartment one more time, he prayed for a peaceful night for the young woman and drove off. As wrung out as he was, he never saw the figure observing his departure from across the street.