“The lighting crew does a nice job,” Greene said.

“They ought to,” Ahearn said. “They’re making enough on overtime. One of the best gigs going. They’re the lighting crew, but they don’t work nights. So, Connie, not only are you the only one not getting paid to be out here, some people are getting paid overtime to do their regular jobs.”

Alves was up ahead, but Connie didn’t recognize the men he was talking with. They looked like bosses, both older and dressed too casually-polo shirts and khakis-as if they’d been called away from a cookout. Alves was wearing a faded pair of jeans and a long sleeve T-shirt. Connie was used to seeing him at crime scenes in his tailored suits, crisp white shirts and conservative ties.

Connie’d have to wait until they broke the huddle before checking with Alves. By statute, Connie knew that the DA’s office was in charge here, but in reality, the BPD detectives ran the investigation at the crime scene. Every second that passed, that scene slipped away. Some part of the killer remained at a fresh scene. Almost as though he had just stepped away and was due back any minute. Not at this scene though-the criminalists from the BPD crime lab were searching for evidence, the detectives were interviewing witnesses, the ID Unit was labeling and photographing.

Connie needed to be patient. When Alves finished up with his supervisors, Connie would see the part of the crime scene that would teach him the most about the killer.

CHAPTER 4

Luther came down the stairs of his triple decker and into the street. Like everyone else, he wanted to know what was going on. It seemed like ten solid minutes that the sirens hadn’t let up. He’d watched from his window as one police cruiser after another headed toward Franklin Park. Luther walked to Columbia Road and then across Blue Hill Avenue where a crowd had gathered between the entrance to the zoo and the golf course. Officers were stationed there, blocking the park’s entrance. Something big had happened and he needed to find out what.