motor anyway and goes to sign in. He finds Claire in a basement office.
"The lab analyzed the hair," Claire states. "Raccoons made those wounds on her body, it wasn't a stabbing. The DNA found birds, squirrels, rats and one unidentified hair. Everything checked except this one." She holds up a vial with a dark brown hair. "I remembered seeing another hair similar. So I went back and checked samples from the dog-kill case. There was a beige and brown hair. Scale patterns of the cuticle and meduellan index are identical. I'd say these hairs probably came from the same animal."
"Was that one tested?" Doug points to the first vial.
"Yes, but only for what it isn't. It was matched with all the common animal hair, including others at the scene, and it's definitely not any of the normal animals found in that locale."
"Not from a dog?"
" Nope, the lab is sure."
"Mind if I check those vials out?"
"All yours."
***
Dr. Anita Lemberg holds both vials to the fluorescent light and squints at them, turning the tiny hairs this way and that. Finally, she places the vials on her stainless steel exam table and shrugs her shoulders. "No clue, Doug. I could guess, but your guess would be as good as mine. I would normally say this looks like a dog hair—a husky puppy or an Alsatian. But that's already been disproved by the lab. They say it's not a dog. So my wild stab is that this is some kind of exotic animal."
Doug raises a brow. "Meaning?"
"Meaning I'd head to the LA Zoo and inquire there."
***
"I'm sorry Detective, the Chief Veterinarian's been called over to the giraffe compound," the sympathetic receptionist explains. "A Masai baby is birthing, and the mother's having a hard time."
"Is there anybody else who might—"
A quick intake of breath. "I just got it! This isn't about Sherryl Lynn Hastings is it?"
"No, it's about an animal hair analysis."
"Ooooh! You know, before Napoleon died, he wrote down that the English holding him in captivity were poisoning him. When he died, a valet saved a lock of his hair and it got passed down and down, and the hair was kept safe until neutron activation analysis developed and it got tested. Know what they found?"
"Ya got me."
"He had been poisoned. With arsenic. Over a four-month period!"
"Do you think there might be anybody else who could give me a visual—"
"Ooooh! I know, the Chief Vet's assistant is over at the Dragons of Komodo habitat." She pointed a long, white-tipped nail. "Go that way, past the Aviary. I'll page him and tell him you're on the way."
She's already texting her friends before he's out the door. Insta-news, insta-gossip.
The flock of pink flamingos hardly notice Doug as he goes by. Some of them are resting on one leg, bathing in their pool and slow-stepping on their stilt-legs around the water. He catches up with the number-two man at the African wild dogs.
"I'll tell you one thing, Detective," the Chief Vet's assistant says, turning the vial in his palm. "I'd classify them as simian."
"As in monkey?"
"I see that one of the hairs has a follicular tag, meaning that it was pulled out by the root. You've got a good test sample there for a macaca, a marmoset, a capuchin; something like that."
***
LASD Homicide Bureau is located at the end of a discreet industrial-office strip, sharing space with the Headstart Preschool, and a computer company advertising "solutions." It's a running joke at the bureau when anyone is stuck, to stop in and ask the guys a few doors down to solve the problem. Outside the Bureau's blackened-glass doors is a pass-code pad. Nobody casually drops by LASD Homicide.
Doug hurries up the walk, punches in his code and heads for the squad room. He can't resist a quick stop at his computer—the inbox stacked with emails. Interagency e-bulletins about a string of armed robberies and a serial rapist in Ventura leap onscreen. Nothing remotely connected to his case.
"Long time no see." A familiar voice speaks behind him. It's LaShawna Leone,
"The lab analyzed the hair," Claire states. "Raccoons made those wounds on her body, it wasn't a stabbing. The DNA found birds, squirrels, rats and one unidentified hair. Everything checked except this one." She holds up a vial with a dark brown hair. "I remembered seeing another hair similar. So I went back and checked samples from the dog-kill case. There was a beige and brown hair. Scale patterns of the cuticle and meduellan index are identical. I'd say these hairs probably came from the same animal."
"Was that one tested?" Doug points to the first vial.
"Yes, but only for what it isn't. It was matched with all the common animal hair, including others at the scene, and it's definitely not any of the normal animals found in that locale."
"Not from a dog?"
" Nope, the lab is sure."
"Mind if I check those vials out?"
"All yours."
***
Dr. Anita Lemberg holds both vials to the fluorescent light and squints at them, turning the tiny hairs this way and that. Finally, she places the vials on her stainless steel exam table and shrugs her shoulders. "No clue, Doug. I could guess, but your guess would be as good as mine. I would normally say this looks like a dog hair—a husky puppy or an Alsatian. But that's already been disproved by the lab. They say it's not a dog. So my wild stab is that this is some kind of exotic animal."
Doug raises a brow. "Meaning?"
"Meaning I'd head to the LA Zoo and inquire there."
***
"I'm sorry Detective, the Chief Veterinarian's been called over to the giraffe compound," the sympathetic receptionist explains. "A Masai baby is birthing, and the mother's having a hard time."
"Is there anybody else who might—"
A quick intake of breath. "I just got it! This isn't about Sherryl Lynn Hastings is it?"
"No, it's about an animal hair analysis."
"Ooooh! You know, before Napoleon died, he wrote down that the English holding him in captivity were poisoning him. When he died, a valet saved a lock of his hair and it got passed down and down, and the hair was kept safe until neutron activation analysis developed and it got tested. Know what they found?"
"Ya got me."
"He had been poisoned. With arsenic. Over a four-month period!"
"Do you think there might be anybody else who could give me a visual—"
"Ooooh! I know, the Chief Vet's assistant is over at the Dragons of Komodo habitat." She pointed a long, white-tipped nail. "Go that way, past the Aviary. I'll page him and tell him you're on the way."
She's already texting her friends before he's out the door. Insta-news, insta-gossip.
The flock of pink flamingos hardly notice Doug as he goes by. Some of them are resting on one leg, bathing in their pool and slow-stepping on their stilt-legs around the water. He catches up with the number-two man at the African wild dogs.
"I'll tell you one thing, Detective," the Chief Vet's assistant says, turning the vial in his palm. "I'd classify them as simian."
"As in monkey?"
"I see that one of the hairs has a follicular tag, meaning that it was pulled out by the root. You've got a good test sample there for a macaca, a marmoset, a capuchin; something like that."
***
LASD Homicide Bureau is located at the end of a discreet industrial-office strip, sharing space with the Headstart Preschool, and a computer company advertising "solutions." It's a running joke at the bureau when anyone is stuck, to stop in and ask the guys a few doors down to solve the problem. Outside the Bureau's blackened-glass doors is a pass-code pad. Nobody casually drops by LASD Homicide.
Doug hurries up the walk, punches in his code and heads for the squad room. He can't resist a quick stop at his computer—the inbox stacked with emails. Interagency e-bulletins about a string of armed robberies and a serial rapist in Ventura leap onscreen. Nothing remotely connected to his case.
"Long time no see." A familiar voice speaks behind him. It's LaShawna Leone,
Similar Books
