Hunter had a long sip of his whisky and concentrated on its robust flavor. The higher alcohol content gave the malt a bit of extra muscle, without affecting its rich, fruity taste.
A few minutes and another dose later and Hunter was beginning to relax, when his cellphone rang.
Instinctively he checked his watch. ‘You’ve got to be joking.’ He snapped the clamshell phone open and brought it to his ear. ‘Detective Hunter.’
‘Robert, it’s Alice.’
Hunter’s brow creased. ‘Alice . . . ? What’s going on?’
‘Well, I was just wondering if maybe you’d like to go get a drink.’
‘A drink . . . ? It’s almost two in the morning.’
‘I know that.’
‘So you probably also know that this is Los Angeles, where pretty much every boozer closes at two.’
‘Yeah, I know that too.’
‘Well, doesn’t that defeat the idea of going for a drink at this time?’
A short pause.
‘Maybe you could invite me over and we could have a drink in your apartment?’
Hunter frowned at the phone. ‘You want to come to my apartment and have a drink?’
‘Well, I’m just around the corner. I could be there in . . . two minutes or less.’
Reflexively Hunter’s gaze moved to his living-room window. He hadn’t had time to check, but he was sure Alice Beaumont didn’t live around this part of town. Two minutes from his apartment in any direction was pretty much slap-bang in the middle of nowhere, or gangtown.
He hesitated.
‘I think I found something, Robert,’ Alice said.
‘Found what?’
‘I think I might know what those shadow puppets mean.’
Thirty-One
Hunter changed into an old pair of jeans and a white T-shirt, the cotton fabric stretching thin against his broad shoulders and hugging his torso like a second skin. Around his living room, papers, magazines and books were strewn just about everywhere. He thought about tidying it up a little, but before he had a chance to start, there was a knock at the door. He reached for his Heckler & Koch USP .45 Tactical pistol, checked the safety, and secured it tightly between the waistband of his jeans and his lower back before approaching the door.
Three new knocks.
‘Robert? It’s me, Alice,’ she called from outside.
Hunter undid the lock and the security chain and pulled the door open halfway.
Alice Beaumont stood at his doorway holding a black leather briefcase. She had lost the ponytail from earlier in the day, and her loose blonde hair shone, even in the dim light of Hunter’s hallway. She certainly didn’t look like a lawyer now. Her conservative suit had been substituted by skintight blue jeans, a black cotton blouse cut low at the front, and square-heeled, black knee-high boots. Her makeup was still subtle, but it now carried a hint of daring. Her perfume was floral and provocative.
Hunter regarded her in silence.
‘Is it OK if I come in, or shall we talk out here in the hallway?’
‘Yeah, sorry.’ Hunter stepped to his right and showed her inside. The apartment was in semi-darkness. Only the desk lamp on Hunter’s breakfast table was on.
Alice looked around the small room. It didn’t take her long to cover the entire area with her eyes.
‘Nice . . . cozy,’ she said. There was no sarcasm in her voice. ‘Could do with a little tidy up, though.’
Hunter closed the door behind him and moved past her. ‘Shouldn’t you be sleeping?’
Alice chuckled. ‘After everything that happened today? The discovery of the shadow puppets? You guys rushing out of the office on a possible second homicide from the same killer?’ She shook her head. ‘There was no way I could get my mind to disconnect.’
Hunter couldn’t argue with that. His eyes moved away from her face.
Alice waited but Hunter said nothing else.
‘Your captain was right, wasn’t she? He did it again.’
Hunter nodded.
‘Another sculpture?’
Hunter nodded.
Alice let go of a tight breath. ‘I could really use a drink.’ She placed her briefcase on the floor.
‘I’m afraid I don’t have much of a selection. Scotch or beer. That’s all the choice you get.’
‘Beer will do just fine.’
Hunter grabbed a cold one from the fridge, unscrewed its top and handed it to her.
Alice stared at the bottle for a beat and then back at Hunter. ‘Could I have a glass?’
Hunter pointed to the cupboard above the sink. ‘Suit yourself.’
Alice opened it and found two mugs, one tall Coca-Cola glass, four shooters and half a dozen whisky tumblers. She reached for the tall glass.
They returned to the living room and Hunter poured himself a new measure of Scotch.
‘You said you think you know what the shadow puppets mean. I’m listening.’
Alice had a sip of her beer. ‘OK, after you and Carlos left the office, I couldn’t stop thinking about the sculpture and the shadow puppets. What you said made sense, that understanding the meaning behind those images had to be directly related to which type of bird and canine they were supposed to represent.’
Hunter nodded and offered her a seat by indicating the sofa. She took it and reached for her briefcase.
Hunter pulled one of the pine chairs by the breakfast table, turned it around and sat down with the backrest between his legs.
‘OK, so while you guys were out I went to work,’ Alice continued. ‘I searched the net for all different types of canines and medium-sized “chunky” birds. Like you suggested – crow, raven, jackdaw, whatever. I compared their images . . .’ She paused and corrected herself, ‘Actually, their silhouettes, to what we had.’
‘And what did you get?’
‘A whole bunch of stuff.’ She opened her briefcase and retrieved a few sheets of paper. ‘Well, individually, each one of the animals I checked has several metaphoric meanings. The more I looked, the more complicated it got. When I started looking at different cultures and different time periods, I was simply overrun with symbolisms.’
Hunter’s eyebrow arched inquisitively.
‘For example,’ Alice placed a sheet of paper down on the coffee table between them, ‘to several Native American Indian tribes, coyotes and wolves could mean anything from a god, to an evil being, or even the devil himself. It’s no coincidence that from cartoons to serious works of art, most drawings of demons – Satan, Beelzebub, Azazel, or any devilish creature you care to name – resemble canine figures.’
Hunter reached for the sheet and skimmed through the information on it.
‘In Egyptian mythology, Anubis is a jackal-headed god associated with mummification and the afterlife.’
Hunter nodded. ‘In the Old Kingdom pyramid texts, Anubis was the most important god of the dead. Later substituted by Osiris.’
It was Alice’s turn to look at him inquisitively.
Hunter shrugged. ‘I read a lot.’
Alice carried on. ‘Several cultures around the globe believe the raven to be a creature that comes from darkness, just like the bat. As such, it symbolizes mystery, confusion, anger, hate, aggression or anything that’s usually associated with the dark side.’ She placed a second sheet of paper on the coffee table.