Shades of Passion. Virna DePaul

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СКАЧАТЬ of whose feelings might get hurt in the process. Basic civility was one thing, but he couldn’t worry that his questions would be taken the wrong way. That kind of political tiptoeing would be more important when he was back in management, but right now, he had to keep his mind focused on what was best for the investigation. “Listen,” he began, but Scott shook her head.

      “I’m sorry, but unless you have a subpoena, I’m afraid I can’t give you a roster or documentation on the shelter’s residents. Unless the resident signs a release, those records are confidential. And as I’m sure you can guess, no one signs a release.”

      Right, Simon thought, then tried again. “I apologize if my requests seem clumsy, but I’m trying to find a killer and that means potentially keeping your past and future residents out of harm’s way. Doesn’t that count for something?”

      “Of course it does, but—”

      “Besides,” Simon continued, “we both know that under the law, confidentiality is waived in certain circumstances.”

      “Yes, I do know that. But this isn’t a situation where a client is threatening suicide, has threatened to harm a third party or where child abuse has been disclosed. Now, I’m sorry, but I really can’t see how I can be of more help. And before you go hunting down that subpoena, I will say any information I’d have on Mr. Cann would be minimal. Dare I say even useless to you? But do what you feel you need to. Most of the residents the police talked to have already moved on, but I believe there are one or two left who knew Mr. Cann. You’re obviously free to inquire whether any of them is willing to talk with 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 tsked 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 of PTSD.”

      “I’ve asked for those records, but getting that kind of thing isn’t easy, especially when that person is already dead. Next of kin tends to fight us on exposing skeletons they’d rather keep buried. Too bad Cann’s family didn’t do more to help him while he was alive.”

      Scott just smiled sadly and shook her head. “It’s not that simple, Detective. I wish it were. Truth is, many homeless people have loving families who’ve tried to make a difference and simply can’t.”

      Maybe, Simon thought. He’d certainly heard that line before. But he couldn’t help thinking that if someone he cared about suddenly became homeless, he would make damn sure he didn’t stay that way. “The doctor who was here before me. She’s a psychiatrist?”

      Scott shook her head. “A family practitioner that minored in psychology. But she just started pro bono volunteer work at a mental health crisis clinic. She stopped by to introduce herself to me and put up a flyer.”

      “Right. Another flyer,” Simon murmured. “Any chance Cann saw her? Or any other counselor that you know of?”

      “No. Like I said, this is the first time I’ve seen her. And Mr. Cann never mentioned seeing a counselor or dropping in at a clinic.” Scott sighed. “The truth is, I know almost next to nothing about Mr. Cann, Detective, and he didn’t keep me appraised of his comings and goings. We provide food and shelter here when we can. In order to meet our requirements, our residents have to provide basic information and follow some rules designed to keep everyone safe. Other than that...” Scott shrugged.

      Right. Other than that, he had exactly what he’d had before—a big fat zero. “Is there anything else you can tell me about Cann?”

      “Just that he didn’t deserve to die.”

      “I СКАЧАТЬ