The Turin Shroud Secret by Sam Christer Page A

makes some startling claims about whether it really was the burial cloth of Christ.’
    Matthews glances at the clock. ‘Do people really give a shit about this?’ The comment stuns his detectives. ‘I mean, have
     you even seen a good movie with religion in it?’
    ‘The Exorcist,’
says Nic.
    ‘Bruce Almighty?’
suggests Mitzi. They both frown at her. ‘That was sort of religious.’
    The captain shakes his head. ‘Okay, I concede God can be box office. But tell me, who in real life cares so much about this
     Shroud? Catholics? Greeks?’
    ‘Them and maybe others.’ Mitzi sifts through the stack of folders as she talks. ‘An assistant at the studio we spoke to said
     Jacobs paid researchers in Italy to work for her – maybe provided data on the Shroud.’
    ‘What data?’
    ‘Can’t be sure. There was going to be a lab scene, so perhaps scientists do carbon dating or take DNA from blood on the Shroud.
     Maybe they come up with proof of whose body was under it.’
    The captain wags a finger at the files she’s still rifling through. ‘Are you just spitballing or is there something in there
     that makes you look smart?’
    She finally finds the papers she’s looking for. ‘These are copies of confidentiality agreements that everyone working on the
     film had to sign.’ She passes several over. ‘And here’s a copy of a memo from the publicity department to Tamara Jacobs, asking
     if she wanted
New Scientist
and
National Geographic
added to the press day launch. These kind of publications would never normally be at a movie bash.’ She opens another folder.
     ‘And here’s an IBAN number of the bank account of an Italian Tamara was paying in Turin. It belongs to an R. Craxi.’
    ‘Excellenti,
it sounds like you have several leads already.’ Matthews pushes his chair back and glances again at the clock as he walks
     to his jacket hung behind the door. ‘I’moff for dinner. You two had better get yourselves to the canteen – you’ve got a long night ahead.’

28
    Dust motes billow in the yellow light from the desk lamp as Crime Scene Investigator Tom Hix drops his report on Mitzi’s block
     of wood in Homicide. He’s just heading back out as she and Nic roll in from Matthews’s office. ‘Little treat,’ he says, as
     she approaches.
    ‘What’s that, Tom?’
    ‘The vet finished examining the Persian cat from the Jacobs house. Kitty scratched someone deep and it’s not her owner’s flesh.’
    ‘Really?’ Mitzi reaches for the file.
    ‘He found traces on the left claw and ran DNA. It’s definitely not from Tamara Jacobs.’
    Nic asks the obvious question: ‘So who is it from?’
    ‘The eponymous Unsub. Nothing on Profiler or the other databases. Whoever the cat clawed doesn’t have a record.’
    ‘At least not in the US,’ Nic qualifies. ‘We linked the perp to a rental car from LAX.’
    ‘Driver hired it under a Greek name,’ adds Mitzi, ‘and there are Italian connections too. We’ll check international record
     systems.’
    Hix takes this as a good moment to exit, ‘All yours now.’He musters a fresh smile for Mitzi. ‘If you want to grab coffee and talk about the case, you know where to find me.’
    ‘I sure do.’
    They watch him leave. Nic gives her a knowing look. ‘You do realise that coffee is not all he wants you to grab?’
    ‘Shut up! He’s harmless. Besides, a little attention never hurt anyone.’
    ‘So, how are we going to divide the pain? You do forensics, I chase down Tamara’s family and friends – see if there are skeletons
     in the closet?’
    ‘Deal.’ She flips open the report that Hix just left her. ‘You think the killer is European? Flew in, flew out – left us with
     only a false name and a speck of DNA that doesn’t ring bells in any law-enforcement office on the planet.’
    Nic lets out a long sigh. ‘We’re in trouble if he is.’ He corrects himself.
‘You’re
in trouble, that would make for a really long job – and I’ll be