“I know the girl left the hostel alone, so she had to have come into contact with someone she trusted to hike with along the way.”
House leaned forward in her chair. “So possible meeting points are the ports from where the ferry leaves and arrives, the ride across the Bay and the park.”
“There’s one more place. Earlier, I questioned a girl that works at the hostel. She said Piper mentioned a store that sold organic cotton candy.”
“Organic?” A look of discontent appeared on House’s face.
I didn’t blame her. I, too, found it a bit ridiculous.
“Looks like you know what you need to do.” House made a wringing motion with her two hands.
I pursed my lips before speaking. “I do wonder whether she knew her killer before that day or if she actually met the person on that trip.”
“Most likely a man: an extremely charming one,” House said. “Piper was pretty, probably received a lot of attention, and the right kind could have caused her to lower her guard.”
“She also traveled alone. Solo travelers are usually open to the idea of doing something with other travelers.”
House nodded in agreement. “Cost saving could have brought them together. How did they get to the park from the Sausalito? Bus? Taxi?”
“The girl from the hostel mentioned a bus, but I don’t think this was about saving money. She met someone she took a liking to, and they decided to travel to Muir Woods together.”
“I would suggest that perhaps the death was accidental, and the person is on the run out of fear. But I saw that axe.” House paused. “Looked pretty darn intentional,” she finally said.
“Sure did. I don’t even think the killing was a spur of the moment thing. I think the killer spotted Piper and decided she would be the victim.” I quickly filled House in on what I had learned at the medical examiner’s office.
“So you have a guy who’s killed before. He likes girls, tall pretty ones. If you want, I can run a check and see if we get a hit for other tall, pretty girls found dead, axe or not.”
“That would be helpful.”
“Makes sense to me,” House said as she took a sip of her latte.
“The strange thing is, nobody has stepped forward with any information. I have no witnesses — which is unusual considering the park ranger who took me to the site said the trail was a popular one.”
“It’s the damn media. Unless the news is sensational or a hot topic, they pay it no attention. I bet most of the people there that day don’t even know they were hiking around a dead body.”
I agreed with House on that one. I needed to get the Taylor case some media love. Someone had to have seen something. “I’ve got an axe, and that’s it. According to the forensic people, they found plenty of DNA from the girl but nothing to suggest another person, except we know she didn’t just axe herself.”
“Nope.” House nodded as she sat back.
“There’s something else,” I said as I scratched the side of my cup with my fingernail. I filled House in on Kang’s two homicides and his collector angle.
“What’s the connection? Timing?”
“That, and the idea that Piper’s killer has killed before.”
“But you said the woman’s finger was removed, and the man had his teeth pulled. Piper had no visual mutilation. Did the ME find something?”
“No. That’s where it breaks down. Unless…”
“What?” House said, her words hanging.
I thought about what Kang said, about his guy being a collector. There had to be more, something bigger than the taking of body parts. And that’s when it came to me.
“Unless it’s not about collecting but about staging. Gold teeth left in a pan. Staged. According to the report, they found the woman sitting on a bench. Could she have been propped up that way? A hiker killed in a beautiful clearing instead of hidden away in the brush. Maybe this is about presentation. A performance.”
House took a deep breath as she pondered what I had said. I knew she would call bullshit if she thought it. That’s what I liked about her. Business was business and our friendship was our friendship.
Her eyes shifted back on me after a few seconds of staring out the window. “That’s a wild theory… Wild enough to be true.”
I thanked House for her time. She had proved to be a great sounding board, and I had a new angle to pursue.
Chapter 15
Fay Park was located on the west side of Russian Hill on Leavenworth Street between Lombard and Chestnut Street. I had walked by it twice before realizing the immaculately groomed backyard with the white gazebo I kept passing really wasn’t someone’s backyard but the park. A closer inspection revealed a tiny sign near the small, gated entrance. Mental note: Things I love about this city — they have tiny, quarter-acre parks sandwiched between homes.
The park was gorgeous and had, not one, but two white gazebos separated by a rectangular plot of grass with inverted corners. Four symmetrical plots of blooming flowerbeds surrounded each gazebo. Two sets of stairs led down to the second level, where there were rose gardens. There were a few benches as well, but the one that caught my eye was located on the first level between the two stairs. It’s where the body was found.
I sat on the bench and understood why the victim loved to sit there. The view was idyllic and peaceful. I wonder how the killer found out about this park or how he even came upon her. Certainly he didn’t happen by and say, “Hey, I think I’ll kill that lady.” If she had fallen asleep, it would have been the perfect opportunity. But the park was small and not well known. I found it hard to believe that the killer had happened upon her by coincidence. Had he spotted her earlier and followed her home? How long did he watch her? Days? How did he know she walked her dog every night? He knew her routines. He stalked her.
And what about the cutting of the finger? I stood up and looked around, hoping something might pop out. He had taken her finger with a diamond ring but none of her other jewelry. I pulled out my phone, pulled up the report Kang had emailed over and scanned it until I found what I was looking for. Interesting. For some reason, I assumed it had been her wedding ring finger that had gone missing. It wasn’t.
Kang said the victim lived two houses up, so I searched the report and found the address. The street number was odd, so she lived on the left side of the street. I counted two houses and stopped in front of a beautifully renovated, two-story Victorian with a very ornate, colorful, wood-trimmed façade.
The home sat high, away from the sidewalk, with stairs that required three switchbacks on their way up to the front door, mimicking the famous crooked street nearby. It was beautiful, but I couldn’t imagine making that climb every day. As I admired the residence, something sparkly in one of the lower hedges directly in front of me caught my eye. I moved in closer for a better look. Holy moly! I found myself staring at a large, diamond ring. It was on a finger.
Could it be? I moved a few branches and answered my own question. It had to be the victim’s missing finger. But why leave it here? Why would the killer risk coming back to the victim’s home to plant the finger? It makes no sense.
If the killer had indeed placed the finger here, it felt more in line with the gold teeth in the pan. Both victims had suffered body mutilation with the body part moved to another location, away from the body. Was the body part the killer’s objective or was the kill? Was the removal of the body part a way to prolong the kill? He was trying to make a statement, but about what, I wasn’t quite sure. It was a strange way to communicate, but riddles from killers aren’t unheard of.