Hangman (32 page)

“I told him I’d do that,” Major said. “His curiosity has become infectious. So I take the picture of Garth and go around the casinos and hotels and motels ask them about couples with this guy. His name is Garth Hammerling, but he could be going under another name. No luck. I call the smaller motels and ask about couples named Hammerling. No luck with the hotels. Then I think a little. Maybe the guy got into a car accident. I call up HP and ask if any
bad accidents went down in the area in the last week. Well, I don’t have any luck finding Garth Hammerling. But there was an accident a day ago: a one-car crack-up in the middle of the desert. A couple of boys were dirt-biking and came across the wreck with a body in the driver’s seat.”

“Oh dear,” Marge said. “That’s not good.”

“It was a miracle they found the car, but that wasn’t the biggest miracle. When the HP got there and took a pulse of the body, they found out that the passenger—a woman in her twenties—was still alive.”

Silver said, “The poor woman was a wreck. Burns on her lower body, broken bones, but she was breathing on her own.”

“Weaving in and out of consciousness,” Major said. “She was rushed to the burn unit at Las Vegas Medical Center. She’s in a medically induced coma. The coroner’s immediate thought is a one-car suicide. But we really don’t know squat because she didn’t have any ID on her. And she can’t talk because she’s unconscious.”

“What about the car?” Oliver asked.

“It’s a Toyota Corolla—older model—’02 or ’03. It’s a tangle of metal and burned at spots, but it hasn’t been gutted by fire. It’s at the forensic lab. We haven’t been able to get an owner off of the VIN number, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Marge spoke up. “What about burns on her face?”

“As far as I know, it was just her legs. She was wearing her seat belt, so she’s got some bruises from the air bag deploying. But she’d be recognizable. Do you know what Amanda Kowalski looks like?”

“We do,” Oliver said.

“That’s what I thought,” Silver said. “So I called up one of the doctors this morning and asked about her. She was still in a coma, although the doctor—her name is Julienne Hara—is optimistic. Then she tells me that the woman had Xanax in her system, enough to cause death. So it’s beginning to look like a suicide. She took a fatal dose of Xanax, put her foot on the accelerator, and that was that.”

“We think our murder victim was drugged before she was hanged,” Marge asked.

“We haven’t gotten the complete tox back on her yet,” Oliver said. “But she didn’t have any defensive wounds. It looks like she was sedated before she was strung up.”

“Interesting,” Silver said.

“Really interesting,” Major said. “Because then the doc tells me a ‘by the way.’ I like ‘by the ways.’ It’s always something juicy. The doc says that someone might have attempted to strangle her. Since some of the swelling went down, she might have seen bruises around the neck. She said we should come over and take a look. She said, if it wasn’t an accident or it wasn’t a suicide, it could have been an attempted homicide.”

“Meaning the police should be involved,” Silver said. “We figured you should come with us to the hospital. Ordinarily I’d ask you to send a picture of Kowalski. But you’re here and she’s bruised up. You could make a better ID.”

“It may not be anything,” Major said. “But if so, you can stick around and ask your own questions about Hammerling. I can help you out with the local hotels here.”

“Hey, even if this doesn’t pan out, we owe you one,” Marge said.

“How about Delucci’s tonight?” Silver said. “I’m in the mood for Italian and the place is open until one.”

“Sounds good,” Oliver reached into his pockets and pulled out two tickets. “We were supposed to see
O
tonight. That’s not gonna happen. You want the tickets?”

“
O
’s terrific,” Silver said. “Don’t miss that.”

Major said, “Yeah, you gotta see
O
.”

Silver said, “Do the ID—either yes or no—and then just make the time for it. Your questions will hold for a couple of hours.”

Major said, “Yeah, the gal in the hospital isn’t going anywhere soon. It’s Vegas. You ever notice the casinos don’t have clocks? That’s because the city never sleeps.”

T
YPING THE PARAMETERS
into the computer—“homicide,” “female,” “strangulation”—Decker, Wanda, and Lee Wang pulled up a dozen unsolved but currently open cases within the jurisdiction of LAPD. When Wang entered the data into the files of the Cold Case Homicide Unit, the numbers climbed significantly. And that didn’t even factor in cases from other nearby police departments: San Fernando, Culver City, Beverly Hills, Oxnard, Ventura, San Bernardino, San Diego, and a slew of other smaller departments up and down the state. There were no shortcuts. Cases had to be reread, lead detectives had to be contacted, questions had to be asked.

Among the things they were hunting when reading the files were: Chuck Tinsley’s name as a witness or a suspect, and jewelry associated with the victims. Decker didn’t need Sherlock Holmes. He needed detectives like Wanda and Lee who could read for hours and focus on details. It was tedious work, which generally produced more headaches and eyestrain than results.

By five in the afternoon, Decker was ready to pack it in when his cell rang. Restricted number and that made sense. No one he knew well would call him on Saturday. “Decker.”

“It’s Eliza Slaughter.”

“Hey, Detective, how’s it going?”

“Nothing big. I just wanted to tell you that the techs went through the car that Donatti rented. We sprayed luminal throughout the car and the trunk and under the carpet in the trunk, in the wheelbases, under the carriage. There’s no evidence of blood. The car was cleaned by the rental company, but not immaculately. We picked up a lot of hairs and fibers. We’ll check them out to see if any belonged to Terry, but honestly, I don’t expect much.”

“Okay. What about the Mercedes that was junked?”

“I have nothing on Atik Jains. He may have owned the car, but he doesn’t have a California DMV license. I’m checking out-of-state licenses. I put him into the system, but nothing came back. Earlier this afternoon, I went back to the hotel and questioned what’s left of the staff. No one saw Terry leave in her car. I don’t know what to tell you. Could be her getaway was planned way before Sunday and she could be anywhere.”

“That is true.”

“I know we haven’t tracked down her husband, but without a body, a crime scene, and witnesses, our leads are thinning. It’s sounding like either the husband did it or she disappeared on her own.”

“I’m beginning to favor the disappearance.”

“Why?”

“I spoke to Gabe and he told me something interesting. He once found his mother talking to an Indian doctor—an older man, a visiting cardiologist whose father’s a maharaja in India.”

“Does that mean he’s wealthy?”

“I would think so.”

“Do we have a name?”

Decker fudged on this one. “Gabe never knew it.”

“Why did the doctor stick in his mind? I’m sure his mother talked to a zillion doctors.”

“That’s just it. She didn’t. All he said was that there was just something about the way the two of them were talking that tweaked
his antenna. You know how perceptive kids can be to that kind of thing.”

“Did he say anything to his mother?”

“He asked who she was talking to. That’s when she told him he was a visiting cardiologist whose father was a maharaja.”

“And?”

“That was it.”

“You think she was having an affair with this guy?”

“Could be. And if she did run off to India, it sounds like the man is wealthy and well protected. She’d need both to escape her husband.”

“So where does that leave us?”

“It’s an open case. If she is alive, eventually she’ll try to make contact with her son. So from my perspective, we wait.”

“Where is the kid?”

“With me.”

“Okay.”

“Yeah, let’s leave it at that.” Call waiting beeped in. Marge’s number in the window. “I’ve got a call that I have to take. Keep me posted.”

“I will. Bye.”

He depressed the button. “What’s going on, Sergeant?”

“Sorry to disturb you on Shabbos,” she said. “We found Mandy Kowalski.”

Decker sat up. “Dead?”

“No, she’s alive, but not in good shape. She has burns on fifty percent of her lower body. She’s in a medically induced coma.”

“That’s awful.” Decker felt his heartbeat race. “What happened?”

“She was brought into Las Vegas Medical Center as a Jane Doe, the victim of a one-car crack-up in the middle of the Mojave. The original thoughts by the police were suicide because only one car was involved and there was Xanax in her system. After we ID’d her as Mandy Kowalski, we’re considering homicide.”

“Like someone depressed the accelerator and let her fly?”

“Maybe. She doesn’t seem like the type who’d be drag-racing in the desert.”

“How’d you find her?”

“I didn’t. Las Vegas did all the legwork.” She filled him in on the details. “They said they went the extra mile because we went the extra mile and came down.”

“Are you sure it’s her?”

“Positive. Her lower body is burned but her face survived relatively unscathed. She has bruises from the air bag deploying, but definitely recognizable.”

“If it was a homicide, wonder why the killer didn’t disable the air bag?”

“Maybe he’s not so clever. And of course, it could have been a suicide. Maybe she witnessed something that she couldn’t live with—like the murder of her friend.”

“Could be.”

“Mandy’s mom, Frieda Kowalski, is a widow. She lives in Mar Vista. I don’t have the address, but I do have the phone number.” She gave it to Decker. “Could you send someone out to let her know what’s going on?”

“I’ll do it. I’ll want to talk to her anyway. What about Garth Hammerling?”

“No bead on him yet, but we haven’t even started talking to people. I do have a list of hotels that he frequented. Scott and I will talk to as many people as we can. Mostly he stayed in North Las Vegas.”

“I thought one of his friends said he stayed on the Strip.”

“He could have stayed there, too. Maybe he likes to hop around.”

“When is Mandy due to come out of her coma?”

“They’ll start waking her up tomorrow, but even once she’s conscious, she’ll be doped up for a while. The doctor says she’ll be out of it for days. Plus, there’s a good chance that she won’t remember much about the accident or what led up to it.”

“Will she remember Adrianna’s murder if she was there?”

“I have no idea how the accident will affect her memory. I’m not a doctor, but even the doctors don’t know. We’re all hoping against
odds that she’ll be able to shed some light on Garth Hammerling.”

“Do we know for certain that she was traveling with Garth?”

“No, we don’t know that. But we found Mandy and she’s alive and maybe she can tell us something.”

“Amen to that,” Decker said. “I’ll talk to Mrs. Kowalski. When she hears the news, she’s going to want to go to Vegas. I’ll find out her schedule. You pick her up and take her to the hospital.”

“I can do that.”

“You and Scott work over the weekend. I’ll come relieve you on Monday. I want to be there when Mandy is able to speak.”

“Come down whenever you want. No shortage of hotels.” Marge thought a moment, then said, “Why are you working today? Isn’t it your birthday?”

“Actually, it’s tomorrow. And I’m going out with the entire brood to dinner. But I’ll probably be working during the day.” Decker brought her up-to-date on Roxanne Holly’s murder and her missing necklace. “There must be more than one necklace identical to the diamond
R
, so we’re looking through other strangulation cases, trying to find another piece of jewelry in Tinsley’s stash associated with a murder.”

Marge said, “So Tinsley’s right back up at the top of the list.”

“Absolutely. He was with Adrianna and Crystal at Garage on Sunday night. We’re still trying to get a timeline on him for the day of the murder.”

“Where is he now?”

“He’s walking around under twenty-four-hour surveillance. Kathy Blanc wasn’t happy about that. If she knew what we’ve discovered, she’d probably kill me. I’ll call you if I find anything else on Tinsley.”

“Likewise on Garth. Oh, I forgot to tell you. My phone will be off between eight and ten tonight. We’re going to see
O
.”

“The Cirque du Soleil show?”

“Yeah. Silver and Major, the cops helping us on the case, insisted we go to the show. Then we’re going out for dinner. But I’ll turn my phone back on when we eat.”

“Glad you’ve scheduled in R and R,” Decker said flatly.

“I suspect, Rabbi, that you’re being sarcastic,” Marge said. “But being the naive dolt that I am, I’m going to take your words at face value and simply say thank you.”

TALKING TO FRIEDA
Kowalski got him out of the office and that was the only positive aspect of the visit. When he broke the news about Mandy, her mother gasped and put her hand to her chest, stumbling backward. Decker helped her with her balance, sat her down on her floral sofa, and brought her a glass of water, which she sipped. No tears in her eyes, but her freckled pale face had turned ashen. He waited until she could find her voice. The woman appeared to be in her early fifties, with a nest of teased red hair and dark eyes. She was a pixie; she probably weighed about a hundred pounds.

When she finally did talk, she asked for details. Decker told her what he knew, minimizing any gore, then helped her book a flight to Las Vegas.

“Sergeant Dunn from my team is over there now.” Decker gave her Marge’s cell phone number. “She’ll pick you up at the airport and take you to the hospital.”

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“I know this is a hard time, but anything you can tell me about Mandy would be helpful: her hobbies, her friends, her boyfriends. Did she drink? Did she take drugs?”

The woman looked stunned. “I rarely heard from her except for a dutiful call once every two weeks on Sunday. Tomorrow was the day.” She looked at Decker’s face. “It’s not that we didn’t get along. We’re just so…different. I was a single mom. I might not have done the best of jobs, but I took care of her.”

“I’m sure you did.”

She nodded. Still no tears. “The truth is, even as a little girl, Mandy kept to herself. She was very secretive with friends and certainly about boyfriends.”

“So there were boyfriends?” Decker asked.

Frieda thought about that. “She went to the prom with a boy. I think that was the first and only time I ever saw her with the opposite sex.”

“Do you remember his name?”

“Not at all.”

“Could it be Garth Hammerling?”

“Garth who?” Frieda was kneading her hands together.

“He’s a tech that works at St. Tim’s—where Mandy works.” Still no response. “Garth is missing. We’d like to talk to him.”

“What does he have to do with Mandy?”

“We’re not sure if he has anything to do with her. Right now, he’s just a person of interest.”

“I can’t help you. I didn’t know much about Mandy when she lived with me. I certainly don’t know much about her since she left me…left home.”

“Does she have a father?”

“Everyone has a father. He took off when she was six months old. I don’t know where he is and he never sent me any child support. I think there was a time when she wanted to find him. I told her to go ahead, but leave me out of it.”

“What’s his name?”

“James Kowalski. I don’t know if she found him, and if she did, I don’t know what he told her. I figured if she ever did catch up with him, she should draw her own conclusions.” She stood up. “I should get some rest. It’s going to be a long day tomorrow. Thank you for being so helpful.”

“If you need anything, please call me.” Decker gave her his card.

“Is she in a lot of pain?”

“I’m sure they’ll do everything possible to keep her comfortable. I’ll be coming into Las Vegas on Monday to talk to Mandy. I’ll probably see you at the hospital.”

“When are you coming?”

“Sometime Monday afternoon.”

“We may miss each other.” When Decker didn’t answer, she said,
“Mandy never liked when I…crowded her. Besides, I’ve already missed a lot of work with my own medical issues.” She opened the door. “Thank you again. Bye now.”

Still no tears in her eyes. She’d probably cried them dry a long time ago.