Around two o'clock, just as I was getting antsy about not having heard
anything about the warrant, my pager buzzed at my waist. It was the
MCT number.
Chuck picked up on the first ring.
"How much do you love me?" he asked.
"Only men I love right now are Vinnie and my daddy. But you can tell
me what you've got anyway if you want."
"I'm not sure I believe you, but I guess it'll have to wait for another
day. Lesh signed off on the warrant last night, but like I thought, we
couldn't get the lab folks out here until this morning. You're not
gonna believe it. Not only did Derringer put a new coat of paint on
that P.O.S." looks like he had it completely overhauled. New carpet,
new upholstery, the works."
"How do we know it's new?"
"Stupid bastard must've forgotten to check his car when the work was
finished. We found the shop work order under the front passenger floor
mat. Got it done Sunday morning at some shop over on Eighty-second and
Division. Paid eight hundred dollars cash."
"So we don't have any blood evidence," I said.
"Nope. The tech guys had a lot of fun ripping out all of this
asshole's new stuff, but it doesn't look like any blood soaked through
to the cushions. But come on, Sam. What's a loser like Derringer
doing pouring that kind of cash into a thousand-dollar car? Didn't you
say the guy does temp work?"
"That's what his PO says. I didn't say it wasn't good. I just thought
the news would be better since you seemed so excited."
"I'm not done yet. I was giving you the bad news first. The lab
called me this morning." He paused to make me wait for it.
"DNA?"
"Damn, Sam. You're shooting a little high there."
"So no DNA," I said.
"No. What'd you expect? Kendra said the guy did it in her mouth.
Hardly ever get anything from that."
"Unless it happens to fall on some intern's navy blue dress, right?"
"Yeah. Bill definitely caught a bad break on that one. Anyway, we
don't have any DNA, but there is good news. They found a latent print
on the strap of Kendra's purse. They matched six points to
Derringer."
"Is the tech willing to call it on that?" I asked.
"Yes. I called her back to be sure. It's Heidi Chung. You know
her?"
"Yeah. She comes in on drug cases sometimes. Seems pretty good."
"She's a ten. Anyway, Heidi says Derringer's got some kind of broken
ridge on his right index finger that's pretty unusual."
Experts quantify the similarity between an identifiable latent print
left at the scene with a suspect's print based on the number of points
that match. When I was back at the U.S. Attorney's Office, the FBI
usually wouldn't call a match until they had seven points. But a match
can be called with fewer points when the ones that are there are
especially rare. Luckily, Derringer's prints were as screwy as he
was.
"OK, now that rocks. You just made my day."
"I knew you'd be happy. Not quite love, but I feel appreciated."
"It's huge," I said. "Good job finding that purse in the first place.
We've got that little shit."
We went over everything we had. Kendra's ID of Derringer, the
proximity of Derringer's apartment to the crime scene, the shaving of
his body hair, the car work, and now his fingerprint on Kendra's purse.
It felt like someone had pulled a sack full of rocks off my
shoulders.
The talk about Kendra's purse reminded me of my conversation with Mrs.
Martin. "Oh, speaking of Kendra's purse, we should probably get her
keys back to her. Her mom was going to get a new set made, but there
may be other things she needs."
"What keys?"
"Her house keys were in her purse. Remember? We had to leave the door
unlocked for her last night?"
"No, Sam, I don't remember. She said she didn't have keys and her mom
was getting a set made. I just assumed she didn't have any because she
hadn't been living there. Shit!"
"What's the difference? Just get the keys back."
"The difference is that there weren't any keys in the purse, Sam.
Fuck!"
Why hadn't I checked with him? I had just assumed. I replayed last
night in my head. When I drove Kendra home, I made sure that the back
door hadn't been tampered with, but I hadn't gone in with her. "Did
you call her? Have you talked to her today?" I said.
"No," he said. "I was going to as soon as I got off the phone with
you."
"Oh my God. What have I done?"
"Calm down, Sam. She's probably fine." He was talking fast now.
"Think. Is there any way Derringer or his buddies could get Kendra's
address from the court case?"
"No. No, the judge ordered the defense attorney to withhold the
address from Derringer, and Lisa wouldn't violate that. They know her
name, though."
"What about the mom's name? Do they have that?" he asked.
I thought through all of the filings in the case. "No. It's not in
there. Just Kendra's." Luckily, Martin was a common surname, so the
phone book wouldn't do them any good.
"OK. It's OK. Ray and Jack checked with her after we found the purse
to make sure she didn't have anything in there with her mom's address
on it. I was out there this morning for my car, and everything looked
normal. You stay calm. I'll call you right back."
I tried to calm down. She should be OK. If something had been wrong
when Andrea got home from work, we'd know by now.
Despite all the logical reasons not to worry, it was hard to
concentrate, so I distracted myself by checking my bottomless voice
mailbox. Along with the usual stuff, there was a message from
O'Donnell. "Hey, Sam, O'Donnell here. I waited around in your office
awhile, but I guess I missed you. Hope you're not still riled up about
the other day. The guys and I were just having some fun. Anyway, I
hear you did a number on the Derringer indictment. Since it was my dog
to start with, I thought I'd call in and see if you have anything new.
I assume you're going to have to plead it out at some point, right?
Those Measure Eleven charges aren't gonna stick. Give me a call when
you've got a chance and let me know where things stand."
For the same reason I always eat the vegetables on my plate first, I
went ahead and called him. Better to get it over with.
I gave him a quick rundown on where we stood.
"Shit, Kincaid. With only a six-point latent on the print, you're
toast without DNA. It's your case, but I'd plead it out quick if I
were you. Case like this, you might be able to squeak out a decent
deal before the guy realizes you're shooting blanks."