“The shop is somewhere near the ferry terminal,” I stated.
After Kang parked in an adjacent parking lot, we roamed around the shops, looking for one that sold cotton candy. It was a weekday morning, so the crowds were lighter than usual, more locals than tourists.
“There’s a sweet shop over there.” Kang pointed.
I followed his finger to a tiny pink and white shop with a sign that said “Naturally Sweet.”
“That might be it. The woman at the hostel said the cotton candy was organic.”
We entered the shop, and a sugary smell of sweets flooded my nostrils. The walls were lined with large, glass containers filled with an array of chocolates, hard candies and gummy everything. The place was a child’s wonderland — mine, too. Behind the counter, near the corner, was the cotton candy machine. A teen girl wearing a blue apron was busy serving a family. From a door near the opposite side of the counter, a plump, middle-aged woman appeared wearing the same apron. She had short, brown hair and cheeks dotted with freckles.
Kang and I approached her. “Hi, are you the owner?”
“I am. How may I help you?”
I pulled out my ID. “My name is Abby Kane. I’m with the Federal Bureau of Investigation. This is Detective Kyle Kang with the San Francisco Police Department. Is there someplace we can talk privately?”
“Oh my. I’m not in trouble, am I?”
“No, you’re not. We want to ask you a few questions.”
She lifted up a hinged portion of the counter and came out to our side. “We can talk outside if that’s okay.”
“That’s fine.”
We exited the shop and walked to the side of the building, away from the foot traffic on the sidewalk.
“What would you like to know?” the shopkeeper asked with a forced smile.
“Your name would be a good start,” I said.
The woman let out a nervous laugh as she fidgeted with her hands. “My name is Judy Huff.”
“Relax, Judy. You’re not in trouble.”
She nodded and smiled, a little more genuinely this time. She seemed like a really nice lady, the type that mothered everyone around her, though I did get the feeling she had a fragile personality. God knows I’ve made more than one woman cry because of my tone, so I kept my questioning friendly.
I pulled out my cell phone and showed her a picture of Piper. “Did this girl come into your shop this past weekend? It would have been on Saturday.”
She leaned forward for a closer look and started nodding. “Yes, I remember her. Tall girl, and very pretty, too. She bought some cotton candy.”
“Do you know if she was alone?”
“Oh, she was with another woman,” she answered, her chin bouncing up and down.
A woman? I wasn’t expecting to hear that. “How old would you guess?”
“Let’s see.” Judy rubbed her chin and stole a look upwards. “She would have to have been in her late thirties, maybe even forty. Lively, though.”
“How so?” Kang asked after clearing his throat.
“Well, she had a bunch of energy, seemed really excited, much more extroverted than the younger one.”
I tilted my head. “Was the younger woman upset?”
“No, just a bit reserved, not as outspoken I would say. If you don’t mind me asking, what’s this about?”
“This young lady’s name is Piper Taylor, and she was found dead on Mount Tamalpais.”
“Oh, my God.” Judy cupped her hand across her mouth as she slowly shook her head back and forth. Her eyes turned glassy, but she held it together. She used the back of her hand to dab her eyes dry. “Don’t mind me. It upsets me to hear this. She was so young. Who would do such a thing? She seemed like such a sweet girl.”
“Can you describe the older woman for us?”
“Lemme think, um… Well, she had brown, wavy hair that came down to right below her shoulders. She had light brown eyes and some color in her skin. She didn’t wear a lot of makeup, only lipstick and a little mascara.”
“Was she Caucasian?”
“Yes.”
“How tall was she? Can you describe her body style?”
“I would say she was about five feet, seven inches. She looked to be in shape… Maybe there was a small pooch.”
“Do you remember what she was wearing?”
Judy crinkled her eyebrows as she looked away for a moment. “I believe she had on khaki shorts. She had on a pink and white jacket with a tank top underneath.” Judy leaned in and whispered, “She was spilling out of it if you know what I mean.” She brought her hands up to her chest for emphasis.
“Anything else?”
“A light blue backpack — a small one.”
“That’s a pretty good description.”
“Well, I spoke to her for a tiny bit. She wanted to know if it were possible to wave a cab down around here. They had plans to go to Muir Woods.”
“Did you talk to them about anything else or hear them talk about anything?”
She shook her head. “It was just the cab. We were pretty busy that day.”
“Do you know where they caught the cab?”
“Outside my shop, and it was a Yellow Cab.”
“Are you sure of that?” Kang asked as he jotted it down on a small notepad.
“Absolutely. I gave them the number for the company.”
“Is there anything else you can tell us about this woman?”
Judy leaned in once more as her eyes shifted between Kang and me. In a hushed tone, she asked, “Is this woman a suspect?”
“She’s a person of interest,” I whispered back.
“You know, I have this way of knowing if things are okay or not. Just do. I got that feeling about her. Also, it was strange that they were together.”
“Why is that?”
“Well it seemed an odd pairing. She felt a little too old to be palling around with the younger girl, and I didn’t get the feeling they were family.”
“Anything else?”
“My store has a surveillance system.”
Chapter 22
They say luck is nothing more than hard work crossing paths with opportunity. I guess we found the intersection that day. Fifteen minutes later, we had a digital screen grab of the mystery woman.
We thanked Judy and left our cards with her in case she remembered more. Kang emailed the picture to Sokolov and asked him to put an APB out on this woman while I had my office circulate the picture with the media, hoping for airtime. It was imperative we got the word out. Most of the people in that park or in Sausalito on that day were probably tourists and could be leaving the city at any moment.
Kang scuffed his shoes against the pavement as we walked back to his car. He looked to be as confused as I was about the recent revelation of our killer. “A woman, huh?” He finally said. “I thought for sure we were chasing a guy. You think that changes anything?”
“No. We stick with what we know, and we know Piper left the hostel alone, but when she arrived at the candy shop, she already had a friend. So they either met on the ferry ride over to Sausalito or at the ferry building.”
Golden Gate Ferry is a city-run company that manages the commuter ferries traveling back and forth across the Bay. The San Francisco/Sausalito route, with eleven crossings daily, was their most popular route. Neither of us could recall if the ports or the ferries had surveillance systems installed, but we intended to find out.
Because Yellow Cab was located south of San Francisco in Potrero Hills, we opted to pay a visit to the ferry company first. Their headquarters was located in Larkspur, about a fifteen-minute drive north from our location.
We identified ourselves to the woman at the reception desk and waited a few minutes before a white man in jeans and a polo shirt walked toward us. He seemed cheery for someone who was just told the FBI wanted to question him. He stuck out his hand with a sense of confidence and authority. “Hi, I’m Dan Harper. I understand you need information.”