“Taking a shortcut?”

“A shortcut on life, you mean. The guy’s lucky they didn’t catch him.”

“They?”

“The neighbors,” Jennings said as they walked back toward Saperstein. “It would’ve made our job easier.”

“How so? We’d have three murders to write up.” They exchanged a smile as Jennings fastened the top button of his overcoat.

“You know, this could’ve been personal,” Jennings said. “Something related to their work with the homeless.”

Moreno bobbed her head. “Possibly.”

“Detective,” yelled an officer who was jogging down the street toward them. “We just got a call from someone with a partial plate on the car.”

“Another witness?” Moreno asked.

“Don’t know,” said the man, who was heaving mouthfuls of vapor into the air. “It was an anonymous call. The desk sergeant thinks it was a female voice. She said she saw a dark Mercedes sports sedan,” he said, looking down at his notepad, “with a license of two, C, and O or U. Couldn’t see the driver’s face. Driver was wearing a baseball hat, and was weaving a bit about a block away from where we found the victims.”

“Did she say where she witnessed it from?” Moreno asked.

“No.”

“Have them run a voice print analysis. I want to know more about this caller,” Jennings said. “Anonymous tips are bullshit.”

“Can’t get a voice print.”

“Why the hell not?”

“Call didn’t come in on the 9-1-1 line. She called the division directly. They don’t record incoming calls. She was in a real hurry to get off the line. Didn’t want to get involved.”

They headed back toward the bodies as a light rain began falling.

“So what’s the story?” he asked Saperstein, who was placing a couple of plastic bags filled with specimens into a nylon duffel bag, out of the drizzle.

“Hit-and-run. The car left with a broken left headlight.”