Tower Bridge
4th Street Grille
Phillip Madison's Mercedes
The Department of Justice Crime Lab
Jeffrey Hellman's building
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Excerpt from False Accusations: It was after eight and everyone in his
office had gone home hours ago. Hellman gathered his papers and was
preparing to leave when he paused to gaze out the large picture window
behind his desk. Eighteen floors below, flickering street lights mimicked
the city's pulse. Off in the distance, the Tower bridge was bathed in a
splash of orange-yellow radiance from the large flood lamps mounted along
the banks of the Sacramento River. Against the black sky, the span looked
like a showcased painting in a museum.
Excerpt from False Accusations: The Fifth Street Cafe was a small, yet
atmospheric storefront restaurant located in the heart of downtown. Small
tables were crammed in against one another-"a cozy setting" was the way one
Sacramento Bee food critic described the layout. The menu was displayed in
green fluorescent writing on a lighted board above the bar for everyone to
see. For those nearsighted customers who had forgotten their glasses, a
one-sheet typewritten menu was supplied.
Excerpt from False Accusations: The dark blue car snaked around the curve,
its headlights slicing like razors through the dead air. It slithered
through the neighborhood, hunting for food, sniffing out its prey. With one
punch, the large engine muscled up from thirty-five to sixty in less than
three seconds, its hunger for speed ravenous...
- - -
Against the wall was a large,
midnight blue Mercedes S600. "Don't touch anything," Officer Seavers said as they swarmed
over the car.
Excerpt from False Accusations: Chandler arrived at the
Division of Law Enforcement exactly thirty minutes later. Located on
Broadway near downtown Sacramento, the large, recently constructed
two-story red brick structure that housed several agencies and employed
2,500 people was quite imposing. He drove into the large parking lot
behind the building off 50th Street and proceeded to the security gate
at the back entrance. (Author's note: since the writing
of False Accusations, the DOJ building was repainted white.)
Excerpt from False Accusations: When Hannah Hellman died of ovarian cancer
three years ago, she left behind a few snapshots, five minutes of videotape
a friend had once recorded at a party, and the memories of decorating the
law office. Since they had only begun to re-decorate their house, the office
decor was the only substantive daily reminder of her personality, of the
evenings spent collaborating on a theme that would become her living legacy.
Although the firm's partners had more than once brought up the logical idea
of moving into larger quarters in the Welles Tower across the street, he had
put them off each time. He could not abandon Hannah. There was something
special about feeling her presence every morning of every day.
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