it’d be a good idea for you guys to have some protection right now, not wait until Judge Hunt is home from the hospital. They can keep the Bobby Bacons of the world out of here.”
“The media, too,” Eve said. She’d assumed there’d already be coverage here. She’d been wrong. She pulled out her cell phone.
Sea Cliff
Friday afternoon
It was late afternoon and chilly, with only a few wispy tails of fog coming through the Golden Gate when Savich and Sherlock joined Eve and Harry in the Hunts’ backyard. Sharp gusts of wind blew off the water. It was too cold to think much about the incredible view.
Savich said to Harry, “The SFPD out front aren’t fooling around. They stopped us and looked us over pretty closely since they didn’t know who we were.”
Harry said, “There was a paparazzo here who caused a commotion only a half-hour ago. The police are here to keep everyone else off the property. Deputy Marshal Barbieri here—Eve—will be heading up security.”
Savich said, “Good to know. I can see from that police tape and the height of the stone wall pretty much where Ramsey had to be standing when he was shot. He said he saw a Zodiac anchored off his little slice of beach. He didn’t mention hearing anything, which means the shooter had to have motored in before Ramsey came out, and waited. Ramsey is about my height, and he was shot from the rear under his right shoulder blade, with the exit wound higher.” He looked over the wall and studied the terrain below. “Maybe sixty to seventy feet up from the rocks, with a steep angle down.”
“Have you heard about the rock with a newspaper photo of Judge Hunt tied to it, his face marked through with an X?” Harry said, and pointed.
“We’ve heard,” Savich said, looking over at the bush.
“The conundrum is, do we have two people, the shooter from the beach and someone else who dropped the rock up here? Seems like an awfully risky thing to do just to leave a message. There’s an active neighborhood watch, according to Mrs. Hunt, that she herself helped start five years ago. Even though it was near midnight, there’s a chance one of the neighbors would have seen a second perp.”
Eve said, “You can bet someone in a neighborhood like this one would have gone on alert if they saw a stranger near Ramsey’s property. I’d wager my Sunday hat if the shooter dropped the message, he came up the trail from the beach on Mr. Sproole’s property next door and over his fence into that backyard, since that’s the only trail for a good distance. And if he risked Mr. Sproole seeing him, then why would he bother to shoot him from down below in the first place? Why not right here, then drop the rock and head back down to that Zodiac? It’s a conundrum, like Harry said.”
Sherlock said, “Show me where they found that rock.”
Eve touched the leaves about halfway down the huge hydrangea and pushed them aside. “I wasn’t here, but that flag marks the spot, there.”
Sherlock turned to Harry. “You were here when the rock was found. Tell me how the rock was set under the hydrangea. Did it look carefully placed, or like it was simply tossed there, like an afterthought?”
Harry said, “The note attached to the rock was actually upside down and set partially into that soft soil. It looked freshly placed, not covered by any dirt or leaves. The forensic team didn’t find it until it was full daylight, because the rock was under the hydrangea.”
Sherlock stuck her hand in among the leaves, felt around with her fingers. Then she went down on her haunches and continued to carefully poke around inside the hydrangea.
She looked up and cocked her head to one side, something Savich had seen her do many times, a sure sign she was picturing what had happened. “How did the shooter know Ramsey would be outside, by himself, late Thursday night? Surely he didn’t simply hang around to see if his target happened to come outside? So did Ramsey have a habit
“The media, too,” Eve said. She’d assumed there’d already be coverage here. She’d been wrong. She pulled out her cell phone.
Sea Cliff
Friday afternoon
It was late afternoon and chilly, with only a few wispy tails of fog coming through the Golden Gate when Savich and Sherlock joined Eve and Harry in the Hunts’ backyard. Sharp gusts of wind blew off the water. It was too cold to think much about the incredible view.
Savich said to Harry, “The SFPD out front aren’t fooling around. They stopped us and looked us over pretty closely since they didn’t know who we were.”
Harry said, “There was a paparazzo here who caused a commotion only a half-hour ago. The police are here to keep everyone else off the property. Deputy Marshal Barbieri here—Eve—will be heading up security.”
Savich said, “Good to know. I can see from that police tape and the height of the stone wall pretty much where Ramsey had to be standing when he was shot. He said he saw a Zodiac anchored off his little slice of beach. He didn’t mention hearing anything, which means the shooter had to have motored in before Ramsey came out, and waited. Ramsey is about my height, and he was shot from the rear under his right shoulder blade, with the exit wound higher.” He looked over the wall and studied the terrain below. “Maybe sixty to seventy feet up from the rocks, with a steep angle down.”
“Have you heard about the rock with a newspaper photo of Judge Hunt tied to it, his face marked through with an X?” Harry said, and pointed.
“We’ve heard,” Savich said, looking over at the bush.
“The conundrum is, do we have two people, the shooter from the beach and someone else who dropped the rock up here? Seems like an awfully risky thing to do just to leave a message. There’s an active neighborhood watch, according to Mrs. Hunt, that she herself helped start five years ago. Even though it was near midnight, there’s a chance one of the neighbors would have seen a second perp.”
Eve said, “You can bet someone in a neighborhood like this one would have gone on alert if they saw a stranger near Ramsey’s property. I’d wager my Sunday hat if the shooter dropped the message, he came up the trail from the beach on Mr. Sproole’s property next door and over his fence into that backyard, since that’s the only trail for a good distance. And if he risked Mr. Sproole seeing him, then why would he bother to shoot him from down below in the first place? Why not right here, then drop the rock and head back down to that Zodiac? It’s a conundrum, like Harry said.”
Sherlock said, “Show me where they found that rock.”
Eve touched the leaves about halfway down the huge hydrangea and pushed them aside. “I wasn’t here, but that flag marks the spot, there.”
Sherlock turned to Harry. “You were here when the rock was found. Tell me how the rock was set under the hydrangea. Did it look carefully placed, or like it was simply tossed there, like an afterthought?”
Harry said, “The note attached to the rock was actually upside down and set partially into that soft soil. It looked freshly placed, not covered by any dirt or leaves. The forensic team didn’t find it until it was full daylight, because the rock was under the hydrangea.”
Sherlock stuck her hand in among the leaves, felt around with her fingers. Then she went down on her haunches and continued to carefully poke around inside the hydrangea.
She looked up and cocked her head to one side, something Savich had seen her do many times, a sure sign she was picturing what had happened. “How did the shooter know Ramsey would be outside, by himself, late Thursday night? Surely he didn’t simply hang around to see if his target happened to come outside? So did Ramsey have a habit
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