As she entered the room, the loud murmur of animated voices died to a whisper. Captain Blake was wearing stylish straight-legged black pants with a light red satin blouse and a black blazer that was the perfect backdrop for her long dark hair. Her makeup, as always, was subtle and elegant. She took her position behind the speaker’s stand, looking completely at ease and self-confident. Without saying a word, she let her eyes travel around the room, waiting for everyone’s attention. It took her less than ten seconds to get it.
‘I’ll answer questions for five minutes and five minutes only. Maybe we’ll be able to do away with some of the fantasy that’s been published in today’s paper.’ Her voice was as firm as it was seductive, combining a soft, girlish tone with a level of self-assurance that was disarming. ‘Before you start, let me say this. I will not discuss any aspect of any of our ongoing investigations, so please don’t even bother asking. If your questions don’t come in a civilized and orderly fashion, this conference is over.’
Hands flew in the air as reporters started shouting questions and thrusting forward microphones emblazoned with insignia from CNN, Fox, CBS, NBC, Court TV and several of the major newspapers.
The captain gritted her teeth. They didn’t hear a damn word I said.
‘Captain Blake,’ an attractive, long-dark-haired female reporter called from the corner of the room.
‘Claire Anderson from the LA Times.’ She identified herself, and the captain turned her attention to the reporter with interest. Claire was tall, slender and her tone of voice carried a distinct arrogance. ‘Are you saying that last week’s Seven Saints church murder and yesterday’s Pacific Coast Highway one aren’t connected?’
‘At the moment we have nothing to link these two investigations together,’ the captain replied in a steady, non-hesitant voice.
‘So why assign the case to Detective Hunter?’ Claire insisted.
‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean I have a very reliable source who tells me Detective Hunter is supposed to be dealing exclusively with the Seven Saints church investigation. If the cases aren’t connected, how come he’s been assigned to the Malibu murder as well?’
So that was it, the captain thought. There’s been no leak or tip. Claire had simply deducted that if Hunter had been assigned to the Malibu murder, the cases must be connected. Quite clever, really.
‘That’s why your paper printed what it did this morning?’ the captain demanded furiously. ‘Because of your assumption? You chose to spread panic around this city because you made a silly deduction?’
Claire shrugged without shying away from the captain’s angry stare. ‘As I said, my source is very reliable.’
‘Really? Well, if you’re paying this source of yours more than a buck ninety-five, you’ve been had.’
Restrained chuckles echoed throughout the room.
‘Let me clarify this for you,’ Captain Blake said confidently. ‘In an ideal world, this department would have as many detectives as it has cases, and the ratio would be one to one, but this isn’t an ideal world, is it? This is a world where someone enters a church during confession time and decapitates a priest. This is a world where someone ties an innocent woman to a chair and tortures her in front of a large fire until she’s dead.’
The room went completely silent.
‘Unfortunately,’ the captain continued, ‘the number of violent crimes committed in this city surpasses that of detectives exponentially. Detective Robert Hunter and Detective Carlos Garcia were supposed to deal exclusively with the Seven Saints church investigation, you’re right.’ She nodded at Claire, widening her eyes. ‘But all my other detectives are overloaded with cases. Maybe the LA Times could publish a request to all violent murderers out there, asking them to take a few years’ break so we can catch up. How does that sound to you?’
Nervous laughter came from around the room. Claire kept her face steady.
‘So you’re admitting Detective Hunter is leading the Malibu investigation as well?’
‘Detective Hunter brings us the advantage of also being a forensic psychologist. His knowledge and understanding of how the mind of a violent criminal might work proves indispensable in many of my department’s investigations. Due to the extreme brutality of the crime committed in Malibu over the past weekend, I have asked Detective Hunter to take the investigation, yes,’ the captain finally admitted.
‘Why isn’t he attending this press conference?’
‘I can answer all your questions at this moment. Time is of the essence and Detective Hunter has to use it wisely. He’s not needed in this press conference.’
More hands shot up and shouts filled the room once again.
‘I guess Mayor Edwards won’t be best pleased,’ Claire said, raising her voice above all others. ‘It’s my understanding that he wanted your best detective to work exclusively on the Seven Saints church murder.’
‘In this department,’ Captain Blake hit back fiercely, ‘we don’t have a best or a worst detective. We all work just as hard and we all do our job to the best of our abilities. Rest assured both cases will be solved.’ She hoped the slight uncertainty in her voice wasn’t as noticeable to everyone as it was to her.
Fifty-Three
Studio City had gotten its name because of its proximity to the major movie corporations and broadcasting systems. Universal was only ten minutes away. Paramount, CBS and all of old Hollywood were just across the canyon, and if you took a quick fifteen-minute freeway drive you could be in Burbank and NBC. Most of the young and beautiful Hollywood elite liked to spend their free time wandering around the many boutiques, clubs, bars and coffeehouses in the Greenwich Village – a place to see and be seen.
Tania Riggs lived in a wood-sided complex surrounded by tens of lacy elms and giant sycamores. Every apartment had its own private balcony, and the complex had a communal pool, gym and recreational rooms.
Hunter and Garcia climbed the stairs to Tania’s second-floor apartment in silence. Both wrestling with their own thoughts, trying to organize them in their heads.
Hunter’s knock was answered by a woman in her forties; brunette, average height and quite overweight. Her shoulder-length hair was pinned back into a ponytail, and her dark brown eyes seemed heavy and tired, mostly from crying, Hunter deducted. She was wearing dark blue cotton pants and a black sweater. Hunter and Garcia introduced themselves and waited patiently while Tania Riggs studied their credentials.
‘Please come in,’ she said in a quiet voice, taking a step to her left.
There was a hint of scented candles in the air – Hunter guessed jasmine.
‘Please have a seat.’ She indicated a low-slung, mattress-style blue sofa tufted with buttons. Her living space was open and the furnishing sparse. Besides the sofa, there were two armchairs, a wooden coffee table, an acrylic four-seater dining table and a half-full bookcase against the far wall.
‘Can I get you a drink?’ she offered timidly.
‘No, thank you, Mrs. Riggs, we’re fine,’ Hunter replied, taking a seat on the sofa. It was surprisingly comfortable.
‘Please call me Tania. Mrs. Riggs makes me feel even older than I am.’ She took a seat at the armchair furthest from the sofa. A clear sign that she wasn’t comfortable having people around.
‘We’re very sorry about Miss Reilly,’ Hunter said in a subdued tone of voice.
Tania squeezed her eyes tightly and two tears rolled down her face.
‘Were you longtime friends?’
She nodded sadly. ‘Almost thirty years. I started working at Palm Properties just a week before Mandy. We clicked straight away. I was probably the only one who didn’t hate her.’