‘He was killed on that bed,’ Doctor Hove said, coming up to Hunter.
He kept his attention on the body.
‘Judging by the splatters and the amount of blood we have here,’ she continued, ‘the killer inflicted as much pain as the victim could handle before allowing him to die.’
‘The killer cut him up first?’
The doctor nodded. ‘And the killer started with the small, non-life-threatening pieces.’
Hunter frowned.
‘All his toes were cut off, together with his tongue.’ Her stare moved back to the revolting body-part sculpture. ‘I’d say that was done first, before he was dismembered.’
‘He was alone in the house?’
‘Yes,’ Garcia answered. ‘Melinda, the student nurse you saw downstairs, spends the weekends here, but she sleeps in the guesthouse above the garage you saw up front. According to her, Mr. Nicholson’s daughters came by every day and spent a couple of hours with him, sometimes more. They left last night at around 9:00 p.m. After putting him to sleep and finishing up in the house, Melinda left Mr. Nicholson at around 11:00 p.m. She went back to the guesthouse and stayed up until three-thirty in the morning, studying for an exam.’
It wasn’t hard for Hunter to understand why the nurse never heard anything. The garage was all the way up front and about twenty yards away from the main building. The room they were in was right at the back of the house, the last one down the corridor. Its windows faced the backyard. They could’ve had a party in here and she wouldn’t have heard it.
‘No panic button?’ Hunter asked.
Garcia pointed to one of the evidence bags in the corner of the room. Inside it was a piece of electric wire with a click button at the end of it. ‘The wire was snipped.’
Hunter’s attention focused on the blood splatters all over the bed, furniture and wall next to it. ‘Was the weapon found?’
‘No, not yet,’ Garcia replied.
‘The spit-like blood pattern and the jagged edge of the wounds inflicted indicate that the killer used some sort of electrical sawing device,’ Doctor Hove said.
‘Like a chainsaw?’ Garcia asked.
‘Possibly.’
Hunter shook his head. ‘A chainsaw would be too noisy. Too risky. The last thing the killer would’ve wanted would be to alert anyone before he was done. A chainsaw is also a harder tool to control, especially if your aim is precision.’ He examined the body and the bed for a while longer before moving away from it and approaching the coffee table and the morbid sculpture.
Both of Mr. Nicholson’s arms were awkwardly twisted and bent at the wrist joints, forming two distinct, but meaningless shapes. His feet had been cut off and bundled together in a peculiar way with the arms and hands. All of it was held in place by thin but solid pieces of metal wire. Wire had also been used to attach a few of his severed toes to the edges of the two pieces. His legs had been laid flat side-by-side, and formed the base to the sculpture. Everything was covered in blood.
Hunter circled it slowly, trying to take every detail in.
‘Whatever this is,’ Doctor Hove said, ‘it’s not something anyone can put together in a couple of minutes. This takes time.’
‘And if the killer took the time to put it together,’ Garcia added, moving closer, ‘it’s gotta mean something.’
Hunter took a few steps back and stared at the macabre piece from a distance. It meant nothing to him.
‘Do you think your lab could create a life-size replica of this?’ he asked Doctor Hove.
Under her surgical mask, she twisted her mouth from side to side. ‘I don’t see why not. It’s already been photographed, but I’ll call the photographer back in and ask him to get a snapshot from all angles. I’m sure the lab can get it done.’
‘Let’s do it,’ Hunter said. ‘We’re not gonna figure this out here and now.’ He turned towards the far wall and froze. It was so covered in blood that he almost didn’t notice it. ‘What in the world is that?’
Garcia’s stare moved to Hunter and then back to the wall. He breathed out a heavy sigh.
‘That . . . is everybody’s worst nightmare.’
Five
Doctor Hove pulled down her surgical mask and faced Garcia. ‘He doesn’t know?’
Hunter’s eyebrows arched.
Garcia unzipped his coverall and reached inside his pocket for his notebook once again. ‘Let me talk you through what we know, but for you to fully understand it, I have to take you back to yesterday afternoon.’
‘OK.’ Hunter was intrigued.
Garcia read on. ‘Mr. Nicholson’s oldest daughter, Olivia, came by at around 5:00 p.m. Her younger sister, Allison, arrived half an hour after her. They had dinner with their father and kept him company until about 9:00 p.m., when they both left. After that, Melinda, the nurse, helped Mr. Nicholson into the bathroom, and then tucked him into bed, as she had done every weekend night. It took him about thirty minutes to fall asleep. She never left his side.’ Garcia indicated the chair on the other side of the bed. ‘She sat over there. She had some of her study books with her.’ He flipped a page on his notebook. ‘Melinda then turned off the lights, emptied the dishwasher downstairs, and at around 11:00 p.m. retired to her room in the guesthouse.’
Hunter nodded and his attention reverted back to the wall.
‘I’m getting there,’ Garcia said. ‘Melinda remembers locking all the doors, including the backdoor in the kitchen, but she can’t say the same about the windows. When I got here earlier this morning, two of the ones downstairs were unlocked, the one in the study and the one in the kitchen. LAPD First Response said they didn’t touch anything.’
‘So chances are they were open all night,’ Hunter said.
‘Most probably, yes.’
Hunter glanced over at the sliding glass balcony doors.
‘Those were left ajar,’ Garcia explained. ‘Apparently this room can get a little stuffy, especially during summer. Mr. Nicholson didn’t like air conditioning. The balcony overlooks the backyard and the swimming pool. The problem is, the entire wall outside is covered in Morning Glories – as you probably know, the most-common climbing plant in California. The wooden trellis that supports it is strong enough for a person to climb it. Gaining access into this room from the backyard wouldn’t be difficult.’
‘Forensics will be going over the backyard and balcony as soon as they are done with the house’s interior,’ Doctor Hove added.
‘At around midnight,’ Garcia continued, still reading from his notebook, ‘Melinda realized she’d forgotten one of her study books here in the room. She came back to the house, opened the front door and made her way up the stairs.’ Garcia guessed Hunter’s next couple of questions and offered an answer before he spoke. ‘Yes, the front door was locked. She remembers using the key to unlock it. And no, she didn’t notice anything strange when she came back into the house. No noises either.’
Hunter nodded.
‘Melinda came upstairs again,’ Garcia moved on, ‘and because she didn’t want to disturb Mr. Nicholson, and she knew exactly where she’d left her study book . . .’ He pointed to the mahogany writing desk pushed up against the wall . . . ‘on that desk, she never turned on the lights. She just tiptoed into the room, grabbed her book, and tiptoed back out again.’
Hunter’s stare moved back to the bloody wall next to the bed and his heart skipped a beat as Garcia’s account of what had happened finally started to make sense.
‘Melinda slept through her alarm this morning,’ Garcia carried on. ‘She got up, got ready as fast as she could, and rushed back in here. She said she opened the front door at 8:43 a.m. She checked her watch.’ Garcia closed his notebook and returned it to his pocket. ‘She came straight upstairs, and as she entered the room she was greeted not only by what you see here, but also by that message from whoever was in the room.’ He indicated the wall again.