whatever?” Julie said.
“Julie?” Monk approached. “Could I ask you some questions?”
He brought Julie up to the bulletin board and showed her the pictures of the shoes recovered from the right foot of each victim.
“What can you tell me about these shoes?” Monk said.
“One is a Nike, one is an Adidas, and that’s a Puma,” she said. “They’re all running shoes with air soles.”
“Anything else?”
She shrugged. “They’re old.”
“They look new to me,” Monk said.
“They’re new but they’re old. They are all styles that aren’t being made anymore,” Julie said. “Whoever wore these shoes were major geeks.”
Monk smiled. “You have the makings of a great detective.”
“I do?” she said.
Monk nodded. “You’ve just figured out what the three Golden Gate Strangler victims had in common.”
“I did?” Julie said in astonishment.
“What did you say happens to old styles that don’t sell at the department stores or at the outlet malls?” Monk asked.
“They’re sold out of a truck at a freeway off-ramp,” Julie said.
“And those guys don’t take checks or credit cards,” I said as it dawned on me what Monk was getting at. “It’s a cash-only business. I know from experience.”
“That’s why we couldn’t find any running-shoe purchases on the credit card statements of the three victims,” Monk said. “Because all the victims paid cash for their shoes from some fly-by-night seller.”
“It’s not just guys selling shoes out of their trunks,” I said. “There are all kinds of closeout, overstock, and remainder outfits that open up in empty storefronts for a few weeks at a time and then go away. They are never in one place for long.”
“We need to locate every gypsy shoe seller in San Francisco and show them pictures of the victims,” Porter said. “Maybe someone will remember selling shoes to the women.”
“Or maybe one of the sellers is the Strangler,” Monk said.
“I’ll get the information out to patrol and tell them to keep an eye out for anyone selling running shoes on the street,” Officer Curtis said.
“I appreciate that,” Monk said. “Thank you.”
“If this information leads to the arrest of the Golden Gate Strangler,” I said, “I think Julie should get some of the reward money.”
“You’ll have to take that up with the mayor,” Monk said.
“Don’t worry,” I said. “I will.”
“What reward?” Julie said.
“Let me put it this way,” I said. “If you get it, I promise never to buy shoes on sale for you again.”
I took Julie into one of the interrogation rooms and questioned her about her crimes for a while. When I was through with the suspect, Officer Curtis took her down to one of the empty cells, locking her up for ten minutes before cutting her cuffs and setting her free on a technicality. Julie couldn’t have been happier.
Monk was pretty happy, too. He finally had a lead to track in the Strangler case. And I was already thinking of ways to spend the city’s reward money, which put a smile on my face.
We were on our way out of the building when Officer Curtis ran up to us.
“Captain, there’s been a holdup at a minimart near Geary and Van Ness,” she said. “They took a couple hundred bucks and shot the proprietor dead.”
Monk gave me a look. He wanted to go to the scene, but there was no way I was taking my daughter there.
“Do you mind staying here with Officer Curtis for a little while?”
“No problem,” she said.
“Let’s look through some mug books,” Officer Curtis said, leading her away. “That’s always fun.”
At least I knew Julie would be in good hands while I was away. I couldn’t ask for a better babysitter than a policewoman with a gun.
The Speed-E-Mart was flanked by an adult video store and a falafel place on the street level of a shabby, four-story office building that was covered with decades of grime. Hand-painted posters in the minimart window advertised
“Julie?” Monk approached. “Could I ask you some questions?”
He brought Julie up to the bulletin board and showed her the pictures of the shoes recovered from the right foot of each victim.
“What can you tell me about these shoes?” Monk said.
“One is a Nike, one is an Adidas, and that’s a Puma,” she said. “They’re all running shoes with air soles.”
“Anything else?”
She shrugged. “They’re old.”
“They look new to me,” Monk said.
“They’re new but they’re old. They are all styles that aren’t being made anymore,” Julie said. “Whoever wore these shoes were major geeks.”
Monk smiled. “You have the makings of a great detective.”
“I do?” she said.
Monk nodded. “You’ve just figured out what the three Golden Gate Strangler victims had in common.”
“I did?” Julie said in astonishment.
“What did you say happens to old styles that don’t sell at the department stores or at the outlet malls?” Monk asked.
“They’re sold out of a truck at a freeway off-ramp,” Julie said.
“And those guys don’t take checks or credit cards,” I said as it dawned on me what Monk was getting at. “It’s a cash-only business. I know from experience.”
“That’s why we couldn’t find any running-shoe purchases on the credit card statements of the three victims,” Monk said. “Because all the victims paid cash for their shoes from some fly-by-night seller.”
“It’s not just guys selling shoes out of their trunks,” I said. “There are all kinds of closeout, overstock, and remainder outfits that open up in empty storefronts for a few weeks at a time and then go away. They are never in one place for long.”
“We need to locate every gypsy shoe seller in San Francisco and show them pictures of the victims,” Porter said. “Maybe someone will remember selling shoes to the women.”
“Or maybe one of the sellers is the Strangler,” Monk said.
“I’ll get the information out to patrol and tell them to keep an eye out for anyone selling running shoes on the street,” Officer Curtis said.
“I appreciate that,” Monk said. “Thank you.”
“If this information leads to the arrest of the Golden Gate Strangler,” I said, “I think Julie should get some of the reward money.”
“You’ll have to take that up with the mayor,” Monk said.
“Don’t worry,” I said. “I will.”
“What reward?” Julie said.
“Let me put it this way,” I said. “If you get it, I promise never to buy shoes on sale for you again.”
I took Julie into one of the interrogation rooms and questioned her about her crimes for a while. When I was through with the suspect, Officer Curtis took her down to one of the empty cells, locking her up for ten minutes before cutting her cuffs and setting her free on a technicality. Julie couldn’t have been happier.
Monk was pretty happy, too. He finally had a lead to track in the Strangler case. And I was already thinking of ways to spend the city’s reward money, which put a smile on my face.
We were on our way out of the building when Officer Curtis ran up to us.
“Captain, there’s been a holdup at a minimart near Geary and Van Ness,” she said. “They took a couple hundred bucks and shot the proprietor dead.”
Monk gave me a look. He wanted to go to the scene, but there was no way I was taking my daughter there.
“Do you mind staying here with Officer Curtis for a little while?”
“No problem,” she said.
“Let’s look through some mug books,” Officer Curtis said, leading her away. “That’s always fun.”
At least I knew Julie would be in good hands while I was away. I couldn’t ask for a better babysitter than a policewoman with a gun.
The Speed-E-Mart was flanked by an adult video store and a falafel place on the street level of a shabby, four-story office building that was covered with decades of grime. Hand-painted posters in the minimart window advertised
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