“That’s enough of that medical jargon,” I said to my friend. “Let’s have it in English.”
“As usual, Lindsay” – Claire sighed – “I’m not making any pronouncements until I do the post. But this much I’ll tell you… and this is off the record, girl reporter,” she said to Cindy. “You hear me?”
“Okay, okay. My lips are sealed. My mouth’s a safe.”
“Looks like your guy wasn’t just given a vicious beat-down,” Claire murmured. “This poor sucker took multiple gunshots to his head. I’m saying he was shot at close range, probably until the gun was empty.”
Chapter 5
THE KILLING OF a street person has zero priority in Homicide. Sounds cold, but we just don’t have the resources to work cases where the killer will never be found.
Conklin and I talked it over while sitting in the car.
“Bagman Jesus was robbed, right?” said Conklin. “Some other homeless dude beat the crap out of him and, when he fought back, blew him away.”
“About those gunshots. I don’t know. Sounds more like gangbangers. Or a bunch of kids rolling a bum for kicks, then capping him because they could get away with it. Just look at that,” I said, indicating the crime scene: bloody footprints crisscrossing the pavement, tracking in nonevidentiary trace with every step.
And to add to that mess, there were no witnesses to the shooting, no handy video cam bolted to a streetlight, and no shell casings to be found.
We didn’t even know the victim’s real name.
Were it not for the drama Cindy was about to create in the Chronicle, this homeless man’s case file would have gone to the bottom of the stack until he was forgotten.
Even by me.
But those multiple gunshots fired “at close range” nagged at me.