Shades of Passion Read Free Page B

you.”
    Simon’s mind automatically rebelled at that suggestion. “Given the statements I’ve already reviewed, and unless they’ve suddenly stopped drinking, taking drugs or hallucinating, the chances of me getting anything useful from them isn’t exactly high, now is it?”
    Elaina Scott’s brow furrowed but she said nothing.
    “I don’t mean to be insulting, but I’m trying to call things the way I see them. You know as well as I do that your... residents ...often don’t make the most reliable of witnesses. Most of them are...” He hesitated, trying to be polite, but Scott tsk ed anyway.
    “Crazy? Pathetic?” she guessed.
    Simon shrugged. “Mentally challenged,” he said.
    “That’s correct. But mental challenges don’t make them pariahs or murderers, Detective.”
    “But it does make them extremely inaccurate reporters,” Simon said. He stood. “And the truth is, I can’t solve Mr. Cann’s murder without more than I have now. If I’m fishing in the dark, it’s because I have to. In a murder investigation, we often rely on people who were close, either emotionally or physically, to the victim, and that includes people the murder victims lived with.”
    “Does it also include cops who should have been protecting the murder victim rather than killing him? Or are they subject to some kind of immunity?”
    Her loaded comment surprised him, but he was careful not to let it show on his face. He simply stared at the woman and she eventually smiled, but it was a smile hardened by suspicion and experience.
    “I work on the streets, Detective. I hear plenty. Mr. Cann’s murder is still a topic of conversation around here. I’ve heard the rumors that a cop has been implicated. Yet here you are, focusing your attention on residents of this shelter. On people who’ve worked here.”
    “Because I’m looking to find the truth. No matter what that truth is. You can bet I take accusations of a cop’s involvement in Louis Cann’s murder very seriously. And yes, despite what I said about inaccurate reporters, I’d like to speak to your current residents about Mr. Cann if they’re willing to speak with me, whether they were interviewed by SFPD before or not. Before I do that, however, do you know anything that can help me?”
    She appeared startled by the way he’d turned the tables on her. “Like what?”
    “I don’t know. Something. Anything that will give me more insight into who Mr. Cann was. Whom he associated with.”
    “He was a loner, Detective. He kept to himself. That’s how he preferred it.”
    “Right.” Simon swiped his hands over his face, then sighed. “Too bad. It’s a little difficult to find out who murdered a man who apparently never associated with anyone else.” Simon remembered Cann’s Semper Fi tattoo and again wondered what had brought the man to the point where he’d been living on the streets. “Funny how Mr. Cann managed to spend four years in the military surrounded by people only to get out and, by everyone’s account, never talk to another living soul again.”
    “That’s not uncommon for a man who served in battle, Detective.”
    “What do you mean? How did a former marine come to be in a homeless shelter, Ms. Scott?”
    She visibly hesitated. But after assessing Simon for a minute, she seemed to come to a decision. She sat forward. “I’m not a medical doctor. I’m afraid you just missed her. She left my office before you came in. But my best guess? You’ve heard of post-traumatic stress disorder?” When he tipped his head, she continued. “We have many former military personnel come through here, Detective. The local clinics can’t recruit volunteers to provide counseling fast enough. PTSD is a severe illness and is cropping up more and more among our returning military. It affects some of these young men and women so severely they can no longer function in society. I suspect if you go through Mr. Cann’s military records, you’ll find a diagnosis