60
Ian Whitestone was a man of highly cultivated habit, a creature of such detail and precision and economy of thought that those around him were often treated like items on an agenda. In all the time he'd known Ian, Seth Goldman had never seen the man exhibit a single emotion that seemed to come to him naturally. Seth had never known a man with a more icily clinical approach to personal relationships. Seth wondered how he would take the news.
The climactic sequence of The Palace was to be filmed in a virtuoso, three-minute shot, filmed at the Thirtieth Street train station. It would be the final shot of the film. It was the shot that would secure the nomination for best director, if not best picture.
The wrap party was going to be held at a fashionable nightclub on Second Street called 32 Degrees, a Euro bar named for its fashion of serving shots in glasses made of solid ice.
Seth stood in the hotel bathroom. He found he could not look at himself. He held the photograph by the edge, flicked his lighter. In seconds, the picture caught the flame. He dropped it into the hotel bathroom's sink. In an instant, it was gone.
Two more days, he thought. It was all he needed. Two more days and they could leave the sickness behind. Until it all began again.
61
Jessica headed the Task Force,her first. her number one priority was to coordinate resources and manpower with the FBI. Second, she would liaison with the brass, give status reports, prepare a profile.
A sketch of the man who was seen walking down the street with Faith Chandler was in the works. Two detectives were following the chain saw used to kill Julian Matisse. Two detectives were following the embroidered jacket worn by Matisse in Philadelphia Skin.
The first task force meeting was scheduled for 4:00 PM.
The victim photographs were taped to a whiteboard: Stephanie Chandler, Julian Matisse, and a photograph taken from the Fatal Attraction video of the still-unidentified female victim. There had not yet been a missing-person report matching the woman's description. The medical examiner's preliminary report on the death of Julian Matisse was due any minute.
The request for a search warrant for Adam Kaslov's apartment had been denied. Jessica and Byrne were certain it had a lot more to do with the fact that Lawrence Kaslov was plugged in at some pretty high levels than a lack of circumstantial evidence. On the other hand, the fact that no one had seen Adam Kaslov for days seemed to indicate that his family had whisked him out of town, or even out of the country.
The question was: Why?
Jessica recapped the case from the moment Adam Kaslov had brought the Psycho tape to the police. Except for the tapes themselves, they had little to go on. Three bloody, arrogant, nearly public executions, and they had nothing.
"It's pretty clear that the Actor is fixated on the bathroom as a crime scene," Jessica said. "Psycho, Fatal Attraction, and Scarface all have murders committed in the bathroom. We're cross-referencing murders that have taken place in the bathroom in the past five years right now." Jessica pointed to the collage of crime scene photographs. "The victims are Stephanie Chandler, twenty-two; Julian Matisse, forty; and an as-yet-unidentified female, who appears to be in her late twenties or early thirties.
"Two days ago we thought we had him. We thought Julian Matisse, who also went by the name of Bruno Steele, was our doer. Matisse, instead, was responsible for the kidnapping and attempted murder of a woman named Victoria Lindstrom. Ms. Lindstrom is in critical condition at St. Joseph's."
"What did Matisse have to do with the Actor?" Palladino asked.
"We don't know," Jessica said. "But whatever the motive is for the murder of these two women, we have to assume it applies to Julian Matisse. Connect Matisse to these two women, we'll have our motive. If we can't tie these people together, we have no way of knowing where he's going to strike next."
There was no disagreement about the fact that the Actor would strike again.
"There is usually a depression phase in the cycle of a killer like this," Jessica said. "We're not seeing it here. This is a spree, and according to all the research, he is not going to stop until he fulfills his plan."
"What's the link that put Matisse in this?" Chavez asked.
"Matisse was in an adult film called Philadelphia Skin," Jessica said. "And it's clear that something happened on the set of that movie."
"What do you mean?" Chavez asked.
"Philadelphia Skin seems to be the center of everything. Matisse was the actor in the blue jacket. The man returning the tape to Flickz wore the same or a similar jacket."
"Do we have anything on the jacket?"
Jessica shook her head. "It wasn't found where we found Matisse's body. We're still canvassing tailor shops."
"How does Stephanie Chandler figure into it?" Chavez asked.
"Not known."
"Could she have been an actress in the film?"
"It's possible," Jessica said. "Her mother said she had been a little wild in college. She didn't elaborate. The time frame would match up. Unfortunately, everyone in that movie wears a mask."
"What were the actresses' stage names?" Chavez asked.
Jessica consulted her notes. "One name is listed as Angel Blue. The other is Tracy Love. Again, we've run the names, no hits. But we might be able to get more of what happened on that shoot from the woman we met at Tresonne."
"What was her name?"
"Paulette St. John."
"Who is that?" Chavez asked, seemingly concerned that the task force was interviewing porno actresses and he had been left out of the loop.
"An adult-film actress. It's a long shot, but it's worth a try," Jessica said.
Buchanan said: "Get her in here."
Her real name was Roberta Stoneking. In the daytime, she looked like a hausfrau, a plain, albeit busty, thirty-eight-year-old thrice-divorced New Jersey mother of three with more than a nodding acquaintance with Botox. Which is precisely who she was. Today, instead of a low-cut leopard-print dress, she wore a hot pink velour tracksuit and new cherry- red running shoes. They met in Interview A. For some reason, there were a lot of male detectives observing this particular interview.
"It may be a big city, but the adult-film business is a small community," she said. "Everybody knows everybody, and everybody knows everybody else's business."
"Like we said, this has nothing to do with anybody's livelihood, okay? We're not concerned with the adult-film business per se," Jessica said.
Roberta turned an unlit cigarette over and over. It appeared that she was deciding how much to say, and how to say it, probably to place herself as far away from any culpability as possible. "I understand."
On the table was a printout close-up of the young blond girl from Philadelphia Skin. Those eyes, Jessica thought. "You mentioned that something happened during the shoot of this film."
Roberta took a deep breath. "I don't know much, okay?"
"Whatever you can tell us will be helpful."
"All I heard was that a girl died on the set," she said. "Even that might have been half the story. Who knows?"
"This was Angel Blue?"
"I think so."
"Died how?"
"I don't know."
"What was her real name?"
"I have no idea. There are people I've made ten movies with, I don't know their names. It's that kind of business."
"And you never heard any specifics about the girl's death?"
"Not that I can recall."
She was playing them, Jessica thought. She sat on the edge of the table. Woman-to-woman now. "Come on, Paulette," she said, using the woman's stage name. Maybe it would help them bond. "People talk. There had to be scuttlebutt about what happened."
Roberta looked up. In the harsh fluorescence she looked every one of her years and then some. "Well, I heard she was using."