Six- thirty the next morning, Gebriel and I were on our way to Cleveland, of all places. Jude met us at the plane. He wasn’t how I had imagined him. He wasn’t flabby, middle-aged, Irish Catholic. He was intense, sharp boned, maybe thirty-eight, and black.“You are younger than I though.” He smiled at me.I smiled back. “ and you are definitely less Irish.”On the way into town, he brought us up to speed. “Groom’s from Seattle. Had something to do with the music business. Worked with the rock bands. Producer. . . Marketing guy. Bride grew in Ohio. Shaker Heights. Father’s a corporate attorney. Girl was cute, redhead, freckles, glasses.”He pulled a Manila envelope off the dashboard and tossed it over to me in the passenger seat. Inside were a series of glossy eight by elevens of the crime scene: stark, graphic, somewhat reassembling old photos of gangland rundouts. The groom was sitting in the stall with a surprised expression and the top of his head blown off. The bride was slumped ov

No wonder the bride didn’t wear a white, Gebriel frowned and said as I told him about my interview with Pascalin shortly. Jude has set us up for dinner at Nonni’s, and Italian place on the lake. As short wails from our hotel. Gebriel interview with the grooms parents had yielded nothing eventful. Darlington Voskuhl had been an aspiring musician who had floated the edges of the music scene in Seattle, finally hooking his way into representing a couple of up coming bands. He had no known connection to San Francisco. The killer knew Hannah,bI said. How else would he find her here? They had a relationship.” “Right up to the end?” He mused. “To the very end,” I answered.” Meaning maybe here, in Cleveland. These weren’t choirgirls. Pascal in’s said this guy is older, married, kinky, predatory. It fits the pattern of the murders. Someone she knew in San Francisco must have been Red Beard. Somebody knows Pascalin claim that Hannah was protecting her lover, possibly because he was a

Our flight back to San Francisco left at 4:00 P.M. I hated, hated to leave without a name. Especially when I felt we were so close.Somebody famous. Kinky.Why were they protecting her?Anyway, we had accomplished a lot in just two days, it was clear to me that all three murders were committed by the same person. We had a strong lead tying him to San Francisco, a possible identity, a confirmed description. The trail was warm here, and would grow ever hotter when we got home.Both investigations would proceed locally. Cleveland would contact Seattle police to do a search of the brides home. Maybe something in her personal effects, and address book, E-mail in her computer, would divulge who her San Francisco lover was.Waiting to board our plan out of Cleveland, I called my voice mail for massages. One each from Alice and Fatimah inquiring about my trip, our case. Reporters pushing for my comments on the Cleveland crime.Then I heard the throaty voice of Pascalin Shortley. She had left

A couple of hours later, i sat in my hospital smock in the hematology clinic at moffett. Dr Kelvin would like a word with you before we start,” said Sara, my transfusion nurse. I felt nervous as she unpacked an IV setup for my treatment, truth was, I had been feeling okay. Not much pain or nausea other than the incident in the ladies room last week. Dr. Kelvin alked in with a Manila folder under his arm. His face was friendly but unconfiding?” I smiled weakly.”only good news?” He sat across from me on the ledge of a counter. “How are you feeling, Moo? “I wasn’t feeling so bad when I saw you before.” “Fatigued?” “Only a little. End of the day kind of thing.” Sudden nausea? Queasiness?” I admitted I had vomited suddenly once or twice He mad a quick notation on a chart.. He pages through some medical chart in the folder, I see we have undergone four packed red cell transfusion so far. . . My heart was racing the longer he took. Finally , he put down the folde

At an old fashioned Stella desk in the dingy halls of the chronicle’s basement library, Alice Barry scrolled through four-year old articles on microfiche. It was late. After eight, working alone in the underbelly of the building, she felt as if she were some isolated Egyptologist scraping the dust off long-buried hieroglyphics tablets. She now knew why it was referred to as “the Tombs.”But she felt she was unto something. The dust is was coming off secrets, and something worthwhile would soon be clear to her.February. . . March, 1996. The film school shot by with in distinguishable speed.Someone famous, the Cleveland bride’s friend had said. Alive pushed the film onward. This was how stories were earned. Late nights and elbow grease l.Earlier, she had called the public relations firm Hannah Simon had worked for in San Francisco,Bright star media. News of their former staffer’s death had reached them only that day. Alive inquired about any feature films Bright stat might have had