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I beamed. “Chimera.”
Claire gave me a stare. She closed her eyes for a moment, as if in prayer, then opened them with a sigh.
Jill looked impressed. “Jesus, you sonofabitches have been busy while I’ve been away.”
They asked all the right questions, and I laid it all out for them. When I told them the name, Jill muttered, “Coombs… I remember the case from law school….” A spark lit in he
r sharp eyes. “Frank Coombs. He killed a teenage boy.”
“You’re sure it’s him?” Claire asked. She was still wearing a bandage on her neck.
“I hope so,” I said. Then, without any doubt, “Yes, I’m sure it’s him.”
“You arrest him yet?” Claire asked. “Can I visit him in his cell? Hmm? I’ve got this bull bat I’ve been meaning to try out.”
“Not yet. He’s holed up at some dive in the Tenderloin. We’ve got him under twenty-four-hour watch.”
I turned to Jill. “What do you say, Counselor? I want to bring him in.”
She came over, a little gingerly, and leaned on the corner of her desk. “Okay, tell me exactly what you have.”
I went through each link: the loose connections to three of the victims, Coombs’s history as a marksman, his documented grudge against blacks, how the OFJ had sealed his fate. But with each strand of evidence, I saw her conviction dim.
“Jill, listen.” I held up my hand. “He took a department-issued thirty-eight from a retired cop, and Mercer was killed with a thirty-eight. Three of the targets tie directly to his own history. I’ve got a guy in San Quentin who says he boasted he was out for revenge….”
“Thirty-eights are a dime a dozen, Lindsay. Do you have a match on the gun?”
“No, but Jill, Tasha Catchings’s murder took place in the same neighborhood where Coombs went down twenty years before.”
She cut me off. “What about a witness who can place him at the scene? One witness, Lindsay?”
I shook my head.
“A print, then, or a piece of clothing. Something that ties him to one of the murders?”
With an exasperated breath, I reacted. “No.”
“Circumstantial evidence can convict, Jill,” Claire cut in. “Coombs is a monster. We can’t just let him stay out on the streets.”
Jill looked sharply at both of us. Jeez, she was almost the Jill of old. “You don’t think I want him as much as you? You don’t think I look at you, Claire, and think just how close we came…? But there’s no weapon, barely a motive. You haven’t even placed him within sight of a murder scene. If you bust in and don’t find anything, you’ve lost him for good.”
“Coombs is Chimera, Jill,” I said. “I know I don’t have it buttoned up yet, but I’ve got a motive and links that tie him to three victims. As well as outside testimony that corroborates his intentions.”
“Jailhouse testimony,” said Jill. “Juries laugh at it these days.”
She got up, came over, and put a hand on both Claire’s and mine. “Look, I know how badly you want to close this. I’m your friend, but I’m still the law. Bring me anything, someone who saw him at a scene, a print he left on a door. Give me anything, Lindsay, and I’ll be bashing down his door to get at him same as you. Turn him upside down, rattle him until his spare change falls out.”
I stood there, teeming with frustration and anger but knowing that Jill was right. I shook my head and made my way toward the door.
“What are you going to do?” asked Claire.
“Rattle the fucker. Turn his life upside down.”
Chapter 84
FIFTEEN MINUTES LATER, Jacobi and I picked up Cappy outside the William Simon and headed into the rundown lobby of the hotel. A sleepy-eyed Sikh was leafing through a newspaper in his native tongue behind the front desk. Jacobi thrust Coombs’s photo and his badge in front of the man’s startled eyes.
“What room?”
