Cooked Goose

they’ve acquired some pretty sophisticated toys.”
    “Like what?” Savannah said, sitting on the sofa next to Dirk.
    “Like an extensive computer data bank that will cross-reference all sorts of goodies. Like similar crimes, comparable m.o.’s, facts in one case that parallel another.”
    “Sounds good,” Dirk said. “Wish we had one.”
    “Well, for a few minutes this afternoon, you did. Without telling them why—because you told me to keep it under wraps—I asked them to run the star-studded ring through the files, just to see if we could come up with a match.”
    Savannah scooted out to the edge of her seat. “And...?“
    “Bingo.” Ryan reached into his pocket and pulled out a computer printout. “Last year, on 21 July, a young Latino male was beaten to death in a junkyard in East L.A. The case is still open, no suspects. But the kid lived long enough to tell authorities that there were three assailants, white guys that he didn’t recognize. They beat him with clubs and their fists. He said they were wearing big heavy rings that really hurt when they clocked him.”
    “Where does the ‘star’ reference come in?” Savannah asked.
    “He died in a hospital about twelve hours after the beating. When they did the autopsy, they said it was from brain death due to inner cranial swelling. He had about a hundred significant bruises, but there were four that were particularly distinctive. They were on his head and face and one on his shoulder, the shape of a star.”
    They sat quietly for a few moments as Savannah and Dirk digested this new information that was possibly very helpful, though it wasn’t immediately obvious how.
    Finally, Savannah said, “July 21st... that date rings a bell.” She walked to her purse that was lying on the table in the foyer and took out a small memo pad.
    Bringing it back to the living room, she thumbed through the pages until she found what she was looking for. “Yep, that’s what I thought.”
    “What?” Dirk said, trying to read over her shoulder. “July 21st last year... that was the first day of the Point Morro Air Show.”
    Dirk nodded thoughtfully. “The ladies said their men didn’t wear those rings very often. In fact, hardly at all. But we know one thing—that day, at least Titus Dunn was wearing his.”
    From the upstairs guest room came a sound, the rhythmic squeaking of bedsprings. Ryan smiled and gave Savannah a questioning look.
    She shrugged and turned to Dirk. “Gee, things are looking up around here. It seems everybody’s making a little progress.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

    December 20 — 11:37 a.m.

    S avannah’s feet were hurting, her spirits were flailing, she was cranky and hungry... and it wasn’t even noon yet. Since early that morning she had been running around San Carmelita with the photo of the notorious ring in hand, asking every off-beat, garage, basement or backyard jeweler if they had ever seen such a piece.
    She had never known how popular a hobby gold casting was. Sometime, when she wasn’t so tired, cranky and hungry, she might check it out as a possible pastime herself. Considering the lack of men in her life, it might be the only way she would get her hands on any good jewelry.
    This last shop was in the back of a tarot reading parlor, where they sold strange, esoteric jewelry with lots of crystals and Egyptian-looking hieroglyphics. The air was heavy with the scent of lavender incense and an aura of mysticism.
    She rang the silver bell on the counter and a handsome, middle-aged black woman wearing a colorful batik caftan glided into the room. “Good morning, child,” she said in a lovely accent that Savannah guessed might have been from the Caribbean . “I am Mama Talula. And how may I help you today?” Savannah smiled and said, “My name is Savannah , and you would make me a very happy woman, if you would just tell me that you’ve seen a ring like this before.”
    She laid the photo on the counter and waited for the usual negative response.
    “Of course I have, dear girl. I have seen it. I made it. Are you a happy woman now?”
    At first, neither Savannah nor her tired, aching feet could believe it. “Did you really? Or are you just trying to cheer me up?”
    The woman laughed and the sound was like that of the silver bell on the counter. “I am glad that you are happy, and
    I am telling you the truth. I made that ring several years ago.”
    “Do you remember who it was for?”
    “I don’t believe he told