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When are the cops and the DA going to get it together?
The text below was a sickening indictment of San Francisco’s justice system — and it was all true. Homicides were up, prosecutions were down, the result of not enough people or money or time.
Rich moved the cursor to the column listing the pages on the site.
“This one — here,” Rich said, clicking on a link called Current Unsolved Murders.
Thumbnail photos came up.
There was a family portrait of the Malones. Another of the Meachams. Rich clicked on the thumbnail of the Malones and said, “Listen to this.”
And then he read the page to me:
“ ‘Were the murders of Patricia and Bertram Malone committed by the same killers of Sandy and Steven Meacham?
“ ‘We say yes.
“ ‘And there have been other killings just as heinous with the same signature. The Jablonskys of Palo Alto and George and Nancy Chu of Monterey were also killed in horrific house fires.
“ ‘Why can’t SFPD solve these crimes?
“ ‘If you have any information, write to us at CrimeWeb .com. Diem dulcem habes.’ ”
My God, it was Latin!
“We never told the press about the Latin,” I said. “What does it mean?”
“Diem dulcem habes means ‘Have a nice day.’ ”
“Yeah, okay,” I said. “Let’s hope it’s going to be even better than that.”
I called the DA’s office, asked for Yuki, got Nick Gaines, told him we needed a warrant to get an Internet provider to give us the name of the Web site holder.
“I’ll buck it up the line,” Gaines said. “Just asking, Sergeant: You’ve got probable cause?”
“We’re working on it,” I said. I hung up, said, “Now what?” as Rich clicked on a box labeled Contact Us.
He typed with two fingers: “Must speak with you about the Malone and the Meacham fires. Please contact me.” Conklin’s e-mail address showed that he was with the SFPD. If the Webmaster was Pidge, we could be scaring him off.
On the other hand — there was no other hand.
I needn’t have worried. Only a couple of minutes after firing off his e-mail, Rich had a response in his inbox.
“How can I help you?” the e-mail read.
It was signed Linc Weber, and it contained his phone number.
Chapter 111
THE MEETING WITH WEBER was set for four that afternoon. Conklin and I briefed Jacobi, assigned our team, and set out at two o’clock for a bookstore in Noe Valley called Damned Spot. Inspectors Chi and McNeil were in the van parked on Twenty-fourth Street, and I was wired for sound. Inspectors Lemke and Samuels were undercover, loitering in front of and behind the store.
My palms were damp as I waited with Conklin in the patrol car. The Kevlar vest I was wearing was hot, but it was my racing mind that was causing the heat.
Could this be it? Was Linc Weber also known as Pidge?
At three thirty Conklin and I got out of the car and walked around the corner to the bookstore.
Damned Spot was an old-fashioned bookstore, dark, filled with mystery books, secondhand paperbacks, a two-books-for-one section. It bore no resemblance to the air-conditioned chain stores with latte bars and smooth jazz coming over the speakers.
