Free Cold Hit by Stephen J. Cannell Page A

my car, opened the door, and sat him inside. Then I got behind the wheel, turned on my tape recorder, and set it on the dash in front of him.
    "Where do you know him from?" I asked.
    "Well, not know him, exactly. I mean, I never talked to him or anything, but if it's the same guy, I used to se e h im all the time, a couple of miles from here, standing by the freeway off-ramp at De Soto holding a sign." "Panhandling."
    "Yeah. His sign read: HELP ME. VIETNAM VET. CORPSMAN. Or something like that. I remember thinking I'd never before seen a sign where the vet put down what he did in Nam. Maybe he figured vets who'd been hit and saved by a corpsman would stop and give him money."
    "Officer Mellon, I want you to go back to the station and get some guys together. I'll get a picture of this victim over there in an hour. I want you to start talking to homeless people near that off-ramp. Show 'em the picture. I'll square it with your watch commander. Get me a name to go with this guy. Can you do that?"
    "I can try."
    I handed him my card and took his numbers.
    After he got out of the car, I put it in gear, and drove Code Two down to the lab on Ramirez Street. On the way, I called the WC in Canoga Park and told him I needed everybody he could spare to go out and show the new vic's picture around.
    Twenty minutes later, I pulled into the basement garage at the crime lab and ran for the elevator. I had just remembered where I'd seen that symbol before. It was when I was in the Marines. The carving was so crude and lacking in detail that everyone, including me, had missed it.
    When I got to Symbols and Hieroglyphics, everybody was gone. I found a secretary to help me. She too k m e to the stacks where I pulled out a book on military emblems. I started flipping pages until I found it.
    The badge for the Combat Medical Corps.

    Chapter 12
    It was almost 10 P . M . when I arrived at the Glass House. I had to fight my way through a downstair s c orridor crowded with news crews, staff rank officers, and press relations. A network news team had actually brought in their own coffee trolley. On the way into the elevator, Carmen Rodriguez of Channel Whatever found me and nodded to her cameraman, Gar. With no preamble, it was all Lights, Camera, Action. No Hello. No How's it going? Just shove the old mike under my nose and start asking questions. I'm not good at this. When I see myself on TV, I always look pissed and dangerous. My annoyance with the press comes across.
    "What do you think of the Fingertip task force being formed?" was her opening question.
    "Carmen, do you think it's possible that you and I might ever have even one conversation without that damn camera in my face?"
    "Cut, Gar," she said to her cameraman who turned of f t he sun-gun that was mounted on the nose of his state-of-the-art HD 24 camera.
    "Much better," I said. "What task force?"
    "Chief Filosiani is naming a Fingertip task force. The news conference is in a few minutes."
    "A task force ought to be a big help." I smiled. "Nice chatting."
    I turned and ducked into a closing elevator before she could stop me and headed straight for six. The sea-foam green carpet and light-wood paneling on the command floor were a stark contrast to the overpopulated steel desk clutter of my space on four. I found Alexa in her office going over some notes. She had changed into a tailored suit since leaving the restaurant, and was putting on her flats with one hand while holding up a protesting palm with the other.
    "Don't start up with me," she said as I came busting through the door.
    "You've gotta stop this. Shut this task force down. I finally have something. One of the Blues thinks he remembers this last guy in Canoga Park holding up a panhandling sign at De Soto and the One-Oh-One."
    "It's too late, Shane. Tony contacted the FBI two days ago and since all the homicide detectives in HS have full, high-priority caseloads, the manpower assignments are coming from the five city Homicide