continued to be impressed with the tremendous discipline and hard work of Jamilla Hughes. What drove her? Something buried in her past? Something more obvious in the present? The fact that she was one of two women homicide inspectors in the San Francisco Police Department? Maybe all of the above? Jamilla had already told me that she hadn’t taken a day of comp time in almost two years.  That sounded kind of familiar.
A couple of times during the next day at the Hall of Justice I mentioned her incredible work ethic, but she shrugged it off. She was well respected by the other homicide inspectors. She was a regular person. No false airs. No bullshit about her. I found out that she had a nickname. It suited her - Jam.
I spent a couple of hours in the afternoon rinding out what I could
about tigers. Area zoos and shelters were being canvassed in an attempt to locate every single tiger in California. The murderous cat
was our best lead so far.
I was keeping my own list of facts, different things that struck me.  Someone had been able to command and control the tiger before and after it had attacked and bitten Davis O’Hara in Golden Gate Park. An animal trainer? A vet?
The jaw of a tiger was so strong that it could crush bone, and then pulverize it. And yet, someone had been able to call the tiger off its prey.  All tiger species were considered endangered. Their existence was being challenged by both loss of habitat and poaching. Could the killers also be environmentalists ?
Tigers were being poached for their suspected healing powers. Almost every part of the cat was considered valuable, and in some cases, sacred.  Tigers had magical significance in some cultures, especially in parts of Asia. Could that be important to the case?
I had lost trac............