the ruin that had once been his display window.
“Bad, very bad,” he moaned as he emerged. “Guns are very dangerous.”
Vanessa eased him forward. “Mr. Sing, this is Rick Maguire. He’s with the FBI. Tell him what you told me.”
“It was a man.” Sing used his hands to illustrate. “He moved like a snake, in and out of the crowd. I saw him through the door of my shop.”
“Can you describe him?” Rick asked.
“He was like the Steve in an old movie.”
“McQueen,” Vanessa supplemented.
Mr. Sing nodded. “Yes, a very bad dude.”
“Who moved like a snake.” Rick glanced at the sidewalk across the street. A narrow alley ran between a pair of old brick buildings. “Did you see his gun?”
“At first, no gun, but something on his head, like wrinkled skin. He watched my store as he came toward the street.” Mr. Sing mimicked the man’s moves. “Before he got there, he pulled the skin over his face and took the gun from inside his jacket. He used both hands to hold it and shot, just like that.” The store owner snapped his fingers.
Vanessa kept a hand on his arm so he wouldn’t be diverted by the wreckage beside him. “Can you describe the skin he pulled over his face? Did it distort his features?”
“It made them flat.”
“Even more snakelike, then,” Rick noted. “Must have used a stocking.”
Mr. Sing became indignant. “When you catch this man, I will have much to say to him.”
Rick motioned to Vanessa who took over. “You’ll have to come down to police headquarters, Mr. Sing. We need a full description of the suspect and an account of his actions.”
“Oh, I don’t know, Officer.” Sing raised his palms. “Not always wise to get mixed up with police.”
“If we apprehend him, it might help with the insurance claim.”
The man’s face brightened. “Not always wise, but good for Sing and Sing. I can pull down the bars and lock the store. No one will get past the bars. One moment, please.”
Rick nudged at broken glass with the toe of his boot. People were curious, but the backup patrols had taped the scene, and no one was screaming anymore.
Vanessa wiped a spot of blood from his right cheek. “Sliver got you, Maguire.” Her gaze strayed to the alleyway. “That guy wasn’t shooting at a shop window.”
“No.”
“Or at you.”
“Not likely.”
Frustration warred with inevitability. In the end, she could only sigh. “Hell.”
“YOU LIVE IN A VICTORIAN HOUSE on Russian Hill?” Rick surveyed the tall, thin structure with its square bay windows and ornate trellises. “I wouldn’t have expected that.”
“Never judge a book, Maguire. I wouldn’t expect long hair from the FBI.”
“I was undercover until recently. I’m working this case at the request of a VIP from your home state.”
“That would be Senator Graham whose sister married Judge Howard Morton of Chicago. Together they produced a daughter named Deirdre. My friend—you met her, Geri Kruger—thinks Deirdre would have been annoyed by the funeral service she received. I think Senator Graham wanted to keep the memorial quiet and dignified because his niece tended not to be.” She searched for her key, a tricky feat with a gorgeous man standing directly behind her and only a single porch light to aid the search. “Setting aside Deirdre’s outrageous lifestyle, I can’t see anyone who knew her and also knew Sandy, Mara and me wanting all of us dead. We were very different people, with very different habits and hobbies.”
“And tastes?”
“In most things, yes.” She located the key, then the lock and, once inside, the foyer light switch.
A low growl from the stairwell had Vanessa smiling and Rick narrowing his eyes.
She let the tease ride for a moment, before offering a firm, “Friend,” to the German shepherd who now stood at full attention on the bottom step.
“Robo, this is FBI Agent Rick Maguire. Rick, retired Canine Officer Robo.”
“As in Robocop?” He held out a hand to the dog.
Robo sniffed the newcomer carefully, wary as she was, Vanessa judged. When the dog transferred his attention to her, she took his head in her hands and gave him an affectionate rub.
“Robo’s better than a lot of cops I know. He nailed more perps in a week than many rookies do in a year.”
“Why is he living with you?”
“Because he injured his leg one night while pursuing a suspect to the docks. Doctors put a pin in his hip. He’s mobile, just not up to chasing down suspects.”
“Why didn’t his partner take him?”
“Because he has five kids, three dogs, two cats, a turtle and a parakeet. He figured Robo would get lost in the shuffle and that wouldn’t be fair to anyone. On the other hand, I’ve always wanted a dog. Also, Captain Palmer has very little faith in security systems. He brought Robo over one night last year, and that was it.”
“Love at first sight?”
She laughed, gave the dog’s fur one last ruffle. “Robo and I were already friends from the station. We worked together on several cases. And before you ask, we were in Bodega Bay when my house was broken into.”
“Six days ago.”
She tossed her bag and jacket onto a bloodred chair next to the door. “You can lose the tone, Maguire. I understand the time frame all too well. A week to ten days after they were burgled, my friends died. Believe me, it’s been on my mind for the better part of the evening.” Or it had been until she’d almost been shot.
“Sing described Steve McQueen to the police.”
“Yes, well, you know what they say about perception. Once he drew the comparison, his reality altered. Anyway, it was the best description we got. The only other people who noticed the guy said he was sort of average, from build to height to hair color. In other words, most people’s minds are too occupied to notice anything that appears ordinary. Our best bet is to look for someone who resembles Steve in his early-to midfifties and moves like a snake.”
She felt Rick watching her as she led the way down the hall to the kitchen. It didn’t bother her. She was used to men staring and couldn’t deny she liked it. But she also understood there was something different about this man, something that appealed just a little more than it should.
He was definitely a looker. Geri had been dead-on there. Long, dark-brown hair, lean rangy build, great mouth and large, oddly soulful
