"You like opera?" Gail asked, snuggling against the door.
"Kind of. I don't know much about it. Maggie used to listen to it all the time and I got used to her favorites. They're about all I know."
"We should go sometime," Gail said, closing her eyes.
"Wine catching up to you?"
She nodded with a sleepy smile. Frank reached across Gail and locked her door. "Always the cop," Gail murmured.
Frank was trying to decipher the colorful strike on the truck next to her, when Gail jerked up, exclaiming, "Oh, shit!"
Snagging her big purse from behind the seat, she pulled out a large envelope and offered it to Frank.
"I forgot. It's Luis Estrella's lab results."
"You've been carrying that around all day?"
"Well, I figured if I put it in my purse I'd see it and remember to give it to you but you haven't let me pay for anything."
"Shit," Frank muttered, tearing open the envelope, "That'll teach me to be generous. How'd you get these so quick?"
"Do you know Suzie? In the lab?"
"She that chunky little butch with the glasses?"
"She's a little crusty," Gail admitted, "but she's a sweetie."
"Probably got a crush on you."
"I doubt it. She's got three grandkids and a husband who just retired. I told her I'd take her out to lunch if she could get that to me ASAE"
"Must want to have lunch with you pretty bad," Frank maintained.
"Oh, stop," Gail said, taking a swat at Frank, who was already scanning the material. Interestingly, there was no blood on his pants, but the blood on Estrella's sweatshirt matched samples from the rest of his murdered family, as did the samples from his shoes. A wad of old gum had trapped some fibers. Brown and tan polyesters that appeared to be automotive textiles, then an odd fiber. A horse hair. The soles also contained minute traces of what appeared to be alfalfa, oats, and horse manure.
That made Frank's forehead crease. The Sentra behind her honked and Frank eased up to the bumper in front of her.
No blowback on his hands. Odd. After having just shot that many people, at that close a range, Luis should have had blood and flesh spatter on his hands. But there was none. No gunshot residue either. Frank grabbed a pen and wrote "gloves?" But that didn't make sense. Luis lived at the homicide scene. His prints were all over. Why would he bother to put on gloves?
She read more. Bits of organic debris shaken from his clothing were consistent with his location in the canyon. A man tripping around in the dark would have certainly put his hands out to brace himself, but there was no mention of organic debris in the nail scrapes. There were also more alfalfa, oat and horse manure traces. Was he in a barn somewhere? A stable? Why? Frank wondered.
The lab found the same brown automobile fibers in all his clothing and in his hair. Frank remembered the interior of Luis' car was brown. There were other fibers as well — navy, gray, and black wool. Clothing fiber. A couple others turned out to be more horse hairs.
"Jesus," Frank breathed, her mind speeding with the sudden possibilities. She glanced at Gail dozing with her mouth slightly open. Frank was glad the doc wasn't awake to see the notes she was scribbling on the back of the report.
Chapter Twenty-four
Frank paced around the dining room table in shorts and a T-shirt. A couple empties stood upside down in the sink and she scowled when the phone rang. Fubar was on call and she hoped it wasn't him. When he caught something he often asked Frank to "help". And she had to admit, she'd spoiled him because she usually did; it was easier to take the case from the beginning than clean up his mess later.
"Franco," she answered.
"Hi. It's Gail. I didn't wake you up, did I?"
"Nope. I was just sitting here thinking about Luis Estrella's lab results."
"Well, Santa's heard you've been a good girl and he wants to give you an early Christmas present. Is it too late to drop it off?"
"Damn. Santa's working overtime," Frank smiled into the phone. "Come on over."
When Gail arrived, Frank got her a beer, asking what she was doing out so late.
"It's Tuesday," Gail made a face. "Rounds until ten. Here. Before I forget and you yell at me again," she said, handing Frank another envelope.
"I didn't yell at you," Frank objected.
"Yes, you did," Gail sulked. "And here I was just trying to be nice. I'm wondering if Santa got his information mixed up about you."
Frank grinned, "Who's the one that took you to Santa Barbara and bought you that great lunch?"
"Well, that's true."
Frank fished out lab results for a beating death the nine-three caught had caught a couple weeks ago.
"I like this personal service," she noted, scanning the data. Gail was propped against the table sipping her Corona.
"How'd you get that scar?" she asked, giving Frank's knee a nod.
"Old football injury," Frank murmured.
"I'm serious."
"So am I. I was playing with my cousins and I fell on a broken bottle."
"Ouch. How about that one?" she asked, leaning to swipe a finger over a jagged line on Frank's forearm.
"That one ..." Frank said, trying to analyze a 2x4 pattern on the victim's cheek, "came from a chain link fence. I was chasing a punk and when I hit the fence I impaled myself on a busted link, I didn't realize it, so I ripped half my arm off when I went over."
"How many stitches?"
"I don't remember."
"Do they bother you?"
"No. Can't feel a thing. They were both a long time ago."
"No, I meant aesthetically."
"Nah. Scars are like wrinkles; they're war wounds. I've earned every one of 'em."
"That's a good attitude."
Frank didn't look up when Gail volunteered, "I've got a scar."
"Oh, yeah?"
"Yeah. A mastectomy," the doc said without a missing a beat. Frank lowered the report. She looked for a joke in Gail's face but didn't see it.
"Full or partial?"
"Full. My entire left breast."
"When?"
"A little over two and a half years ago."
"Been clean since?"
"Knock on wood," Gail answered, rapping on the envelope.
"You can't tell," Frank said.
The doc flashed a quick grin.
"I'm flattered you've looked."
There was a weighted silence, in which Frank wasn't sure what to say. Gail finally admitted, "I don't know why I told you. I've never told anyone outside my immediate family. I guess it's good to practice on a friend."
"I'm glad you did."
"Yeah," Gail said, "now you know better than to date me."
"Think it makes you any less attractive?"
"I've rationalized in my head that it doesn't, but on the other hand I haven't had a date in two and a half years, so go figure. Anyway, I like what you said about a scar being a badge of honor."
"Wear it proudly. Not every one gets the chance to."
"You're right," Gail said, setting her beer down. "You have such a healthy perspective sometimes."
Rolling her eyes, Frank said, "Tell Clay that."
"It's getting kind of late," Gail said shoving off from the table. "I've got to go in early and prep for testimony."
"I won't keep you," Frank stood. "You shouldn't have come out of your way."
"I don't consider you out of the way," Gail tossed off, then suddenly she wheeled.
"Hey! Now this isn't fair. Here I've gone and shared my deepest, most intimate secret with you and I still don't even know your first name!"
"Ahhh," Frank said, "Tit for tat, so to speak?"
"You're terrible," Gail laughed, that sexy chuckle.
"This my price for such incredible personalized service from the coroner's office?"
Gail held her palm out.
"Pay up, sister."
"Okay," Frank gave in. "Here goes. You have to understand that my mother was always into fads and cults. Whatever the latest trend was, she was into it. Rebirthing, Zen, EST, Christian Science — you name it, she tried it. My dad used to call it her faith-of-the-month club, and when she was carrying me, she was into Wicca. Thought she was a witch or something. It was pretty harmless. I mean, I don't remember her sacrificing goats in the living room or anything. Anyway, she got this idea in her head that a really great name, one that would confer a lot of power for a little girl, would be — are you ready?"