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himself.”
    “Think it’s someone’s initial?” Marge asked.
    “I don’t know.” Dodge shrugged. “Neither victim had any local family. Sherece is from Louisiana. She ran away at fourteen and has a rap sheet with the typical collars: drug possession, solicitation, and one arrest for assault.”
    “Prostitution’s been legal in San Francisco for several years,” Marge interrupted. “Where are the solicitation charges from?”
    “Two from Louisiana, the same year she ran away, and then Nevada, Oregon, and other cities in California,” Dodge said.
    “She worked her way across our fine nation,” Dexter grunted.
    Marge frowned at Dexter and then asked, “What was she hooked on?”
    “She was an Olympus addict.”
    Dexter shook his head. “The new and cheap thrill.”
    “Yeah, twice the kick at half the price,” Marge added.
    “Also the most addictive drug we’ve seen since meth,” Dodge finished her sentence.
    I had heard of Olympus but the kids at my prep school and college weren’t into taking it. It was just too cheap. When you’ve got unlimited cash in your pocket, you don’t go for the cheap thrill. The big drug of choice at my schools was Zeon. It cost twice the amount and probably had four times the kick. One snort and your entire body flew. It was like free-falling from twenty thousand feet.
    “What about the other one?” Marge pointed to the second victim’s photo on her screen.
    “Mandy was an escort. She worked for Companion and Recreation Escorts and her going rate was five hundred dollars an hour.”
    Dexter whistled.
    Dodge frowned at him and continued, “She’s got no record and there wasn’t any indication of drug use.”
    Marge set the photo back on the table. “Runaway?”
    “Nope. She’s from New York. Her parents still live there.”
    “They knew she was an escort?” Dexter asked.
    Dodge shook his head. “No, they thought she was a model.”
    “Were they surprised when you told them what she was doing here in San Francisco?” Dexter asked.
    “No, because I didn’t tell them.”
    “It’s going to come out if this guy kills again, and I heard there’s already a newspaper reporter asking questions about a serial killer who targets prostitutes. Rumor has it he called the mayor and asked for a statement about the killings,” Dexter said.
    The corners of Dodge’s mouth turned up slightly. “The newspapers haven’t got wind of this yet.”
    Dexter pulled his head back and stared at Dodge. “Then who called the mayor?”
    “Mrs. Cranks.”
    Dexter laughed.
    Marge looked perplexed. “Who’s Mrs. Cranks?”
    Dodge looked down at the table. “She’s my landlady.”
    Dexter laughed louder. “She’s got to be at least ninety years old and she’s got a crush on Dodge. She’ll do anything that boy asks her to do.”
    Dodge raised his eyes and shrugged, then began to laugh, too. Soon Marge had joined them.
    The mood changed when they started reviewing the crime scene photos. They each looked at a picture and then passed it along. Marge brought them up on her screen. After everyone had a chance to inspect the picture, they talked about what each of them had seen in the photo. It was tedious work and watching them was even worse. Marge made notes under each photo and then sent them over to the electronic whiteboards. It was strange to see the information in two places – Marge’s screen and the whiteboard. Dodge would get up and look at the information on the whiteboard rather than the computer screen.
    Both of the women were found in bed, Sherece at a dive motel a few blocks from the corner where she worked. When prostitution was legalized, several motels were designated by the city as the prostitutes’ work zone. If this was a city motel, then the city needed to spend a little more of the tax money on the place. Dirty bedspread, stained carpet, and rickety furniture were evident in the pictures. It was a dump.
    Mandy, on the other hand, was discovered at her own