Emily went inside and was there for nearly forty minutes before getting back in her car and heading off in the direction of the bank. She must have come home for lunch and was now on her way back to work. MacNally waited until she had cleared the block and then got out of his car. Moving swiftly but cautiously, he walked down the street and into Emily September’s backyard.
The landscape was meticulously groomed, with several mature deciduous trees shading the grass from sunlight. A redwood picnic table sat in the center of the plot. MacNally moved past it and stepped up to the back door. He peered into the window, bringing his hands up to his face to block out the light. He looked around but did not see anyone. As expected-there had been no other cars in the nearby vicinity, so it made sense that no one was home.
MacNally balled up his shirt around his fist and looked for the best place to penetrate the door. He would be in and out as fast as possible. But first he would see if he could find some cash-or anything else of value that could be sold with ease.
“Okay, Emily. Let’s see what you’ve got for me.”
18
Burden, Friedberg, and Vail arrived at Irene Ilg’s home on Ortega Street in the Sunset District as a foggy dusk settled in over the city.
While climbing out of Burden’s Ford, a man whistled at them.
“Birdie!”
“Allman, my man, how’s it hangin’?” The two men met on the sidewalk behind the car and launched into an elaborate handshake.
Vail leaned into Friedberg. “Who is that?”
“Police reporter for the Tribune.”
“What the hell are they doing?”
“Some kind of fraternity thing.”
Vail hiked her brow. “I never took cop reporters as the fraternity type. Rebels. Loners, maybe.”
“You’ve actually profiled reporters?”
“Not exactly,” Vail said. “I’m just saying.”
Friedberg shrugged. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re right. But in every profession there are outliers.”
Vail gave him a look. “You getting philosophical on me, Robert?”
“Who tipped you?” Burden asked as the two men approached Vail and Friedberg.
Allman sported graying temples but otherwise a full head of wavy brown hair. Small capillaries zigzagged the side of his sharp nose, suggesting he enjoyed his time on a bar stool a bit more often than his physician would recommend. But his smile was broad and infectious, inviting in a magnetic way. A battered tan leather messenger bag was slung across his shoulder.
“You don’t really expect me to divulge my sources, do you?”
Burden tipped his chin back.
“Okay, fine,” Allman said. “No source. I heard it on the scanner.” He noticed Vail and his eyes widened. “Who’s the beautiful lady?”
“Oh, please,” Vail said. Please say more.
“This is Clay Allman, police reporter for the Tribune. Clay, this is Special Agent Karen Vail. She’s out from the BAU.”
Allman’s head swung over to Burden, then back to Vail. “You’re a profiler?”
“Ah, goddamn it,” Burden said. “That’s off the record. Got it?” he asked, poking Allman with a stubby finger.
“Sure,” Allman said. “Give the dog a bone, then yank it from his mouth. I’m left salivating.”
“Now there’s an appropriate metaphor,” Friedberg said.
“Robert,” Allman said with a big grin. He gave Friedberg’s hand a firm shake. “Didn’t see you there.”
“Jeez. Haven’t seen you since…well, since the last murder in town.”
“You make police reporters sound like the grim reaper.”
Friedberg laughed. “Hey, man…if the shoe fits.”
“You related to the brothers?” Vail asked.
Allman cocked his head. “What brothers?”
“Gregg and Duane,” Vail said. “Allman Brothers. ‘Ramblin’ Man,’ ‘Midnight Rider’-c’mon, I know you’re old enough to know their music.”
“Yes,” Allman said. “And no. Yes, I know their music. No, we’re not related. But I do play a mean guitar.”
“That’s true,” Burden said. “If by ‘mean’ you really meant ‘horrible.’”
Allman frowned at Burden, and then swung his gaze over to Vail. “So…about the DB.”
“What about it?” Vail asked. “This is a crime scene. When homicide inspectors respond, there usually is a dead body.”
Allman’s eyebrows rose. “Whoa. Do I detect a little…attitude?”
“You detect a lot of attitude,” Burden said.
Vail cleared her throat. “I can speak for myself, Birdie. Thank you very much.” She looked at Allman. “And yeah, I don’t believe reporters should be trampling a crime scene before the investigating detectives even get a chance to look things over.”
“Okay, okay,” Allman said, raising both hands. “I’ll wait. I didn’t mean anything by it. I just-it’s my job to cover crimes.”
“I got that,” Vail said, “when Burden introduced you as the Tribune’s police reporter.”
Allman looked to Burden, who shrugged.
“Don’t take it personally. Agent Vail treats everyone the same way. She doesn’t play favorites.” Burden nodded at Friedberg and Vail to follow him. “We’ll have a look around,” he called back to Allman. “If you’re still here when we’re done, I’ll let you take a look. These days you’re not even supposed to have access, so I know you’re good with that. Right?”
“Of course. And since I’m a man of words, although it goes without saying, I’ll say it anyway: I do appreciate it.”
Burden led the way through the decorative iron gate into an arched alley, then up to the townhouse’s front door. Friedberg handed Vail and Burden baby blue booties and latex gloves.
As they slipped them on, the SFPD officer gave them a report: “I did a well check, figuring I’d find her deceased, based on…well, based on dispatch’s warning. She’s upstairs, in bed. I backed out the way I came.”
Vail and Friedberg followed Burden through the front door. Inside, off to the left, sat a living room filled with austere antique furniture upholstered in paisley fabrics that were long in the tooth. They moved through the room, then into the dining room and the kitchen.
Vail checked the rear door with a gloved hand. Locked. A small square backyard stared back at her through the window. A well-tended vegetable garden sprouted tomatoes and squash, and what looked like the ends of carrots peeking through the soil.
“No sign of a struggle,” Vail said. “No nothing. Everything looks like I’d expect it to.”
“Ten-four,” Burden said. “Let’s go up. After we get a look at the body, we can come back down, take a fresh pass down here.”