Serial Date: A Leine Basso Thriller (4 page)

She'd been married briefly to a successful businessman named Frank Basso, but ended up dumping him. Jensen wondered why she'd leave such a dick gig. Huge house in Bel Air. Influential friends. Bi-annual trips to Vegas, Europe, New York. Most women he knew would climb over the bodies of their dead grandmothers to snag a rich husband like Frank, and it intrigued him.

She carried herself the way his buddies in Special Forces did; relaxed and calm on the exterior, like nothing could phase her. Jensen sensed another kind of tension in her, more emotional, one that pulled at the calm exterior. She exuded mystery.

And he really wanted to fuck her.

“Hey Santa.” Putnam tapped him on the shoulder, breaking into his thoughts. “They got some kind of letter down at the freak show. Bronkowski sounded pretty messed up.”

Sighing, Jensen slid Amanda Milton's file in the desk drawer and grabbed his badge.

Showtime.

***

“There. It's right there.” Peter Bronkowski jabbed his finger at the offending piece of paper on his desk. “Fuck. He's going to do it again, isn't he?”

Jensen slid on a pair of latex gloves before he picked up the letter and read the wandering manifesto. When he finished, he handed it to Putnam and gave Bronkowski his serious, calm look. Putnam finished reading and stepped back, remaining quiet.

“We're doing everything we can, Mr. Bronkowski. He won't be able to get to any of the other contestants, not now.” Security was tight. The contestants couldn't visit the toilet without a shadow. Luckily, the women lived together in a house a few blocks away from the set while taping the show, so it would be easy to keep an eye on them all. Especially since the house was already wired with cameras everywhere except the bathrooms.

Jensen re-scanned parts of the letter, looking for something that might give him answers to the writer's identity. The letter went on at length about how watching reality shows and eating factory farmed meat killed off people's brain cells and made everyone stupid and fat. The loss of intelligence would be devastating to the country's brain-trust as a whole. According to the author, this couldn't be tolerated.

The obvious remedy was to foster public awareness by eating younger, free-range meat that hadn't experienced the long term, adverse effects of heavy metals and toxins absorbed from the environment. Although, not too young. The author preferred some seasoning to his protein, and referenced Ms. Milton as a prime example.

Enter Serial Date, the perfect outlet for his protest. His reason being if he culled the contestants from the most offensive show, it would bring attention to the plight of the television-watching public. As an added bonus, the contestants, being healthy and fit specimens, allowed him to make his point succinctly, while exercising his right to enjoy a healthy, delicious meal. He apologized for not taking more choice cuts from the body and leaving so much waste, but had been unable to remove it from the prop closet without being seen.

Wonderful, Jensen thought.
A cannibal with a social agenda
.

Leine Basso walked into the office. “You called?” she said to Bronkowski. Jensen tensed.

Bronkowski pointed at the manifesto. “The killer sent a letter. He's a fucking cannibal…”

“Mr. Bronkowski,” Jensen warned, his voice terse. He looked pointedly at Leine and Peter. “This isn't general knowledge and is key evidence, unique to this crime. You can't discuss this with anyone outside the investigation.”

Putnam added, “If this is leaked to anyone, we'll hold you both responsible and file charges. Do you understand?”

“You won't hear it from me, detectives.” Leine's gaze swept over Jensen.

A surge of electricity headed straight down his belly and into his dick. She wore her dark brown hair loose and it fell just below her shoulders. Sexy.

Definitely have to follow up on this one, Jensen thought.

“No, no. Of course not. I don't need this getting out any more than you guys do.” Bronkowski waved at the air, dismissing their concerns.

“Is there anything I can do?” Leine asked, looking first at Jensen and Putnam, then Bronkowski.

“If you find out anything about an ex-con or contestant, no matter how inconsequential it may seem, my partner and I would appreciate it if you'd let us know.” Jensen picked up the letter and placed it into an evidence bag. “We pulled the personnel files from both seasons, but nothing beats a visual—it'd be great if you could keep an eye on everyone else on set and report any suspicious activity. The more bodies we have looking out, the better.”

“Of course, detective. Anything else?”

Everything about her said “business only.” What would it take to get those panties off? Jensen smiled his most disarming smile. Piece of cake, he thought. Turn on the ol' Santiago charm. Make her think she's part of the investigation, get close to her. A little wine, a little dinner… then, look out, Mamacita. Give her some red-hot salsa.

“That's all for now, Ms. Basso. We've got your number.”

Chapter 6

“That's the last
one, Edward.” Peter set the moving box on the dining room table and wiped his forehead with a tissue.

Edward raced to the box, opened it and checked the contents. With a deep sigh, he visibly relaxed once he'd made sure nothing had broken. Peter felt a twinge of sadness. The new meds didn't seem to have much of an effect.

“Edward, I need to ask you something important, okay? It has to do with the blackness.”

Edward stiffened. He began to rock back and forth and shake his head. The humming began almost immediately. Peter put a hand on his arm. Edward quieted.

“Don't worry, it's a simple question. You only have to answer yes or no, all right?”

Edward nodded, though he still acted wary. Peter knew anything that had to do with what Edward referred to as the blackness could set him back months, and he didn't bring it up lightly.

“Edward, I need to know if you've experienced it recently and whether you've told anyone.”

Edward shook his head. “No, no, Peter, not recently. Not recently. The blackness isn't here anymore.” Peter took in Edward's agitated hand movements and the telltale facial tick, and his heart sank.

“Edward, are you still taking those pills Doctor Shapiro prescribed?”

Edward rocked his head up and down. “Yes. I take them every day, just like you said.” He opened a box next to him and proceeded to search the items inside.

Peter sighed. He knew the move to a new place would screw everything up, probably send Edward off his meds, but he couldn't chance the police finding out about him. Peter had worked diligently to keep his younger brother under wraps ever since he'd found Edward at the age of sixteen, standing over their stepfather's dead body, holding a bloody baseball bat. A brutal alcoholic, their stepfather enjoyed ambushing Peter when he came home from his afternoon job at the local newspaper. On one occasion, he nearly broke Peter's neck. This did not sit well with Edward who had a near reverence for Peter. Peter had been the only one who understood why Edward punished the mean dogs in the neighborhood. In Edward's mind, killing his stepfather counted as payback for Peter's friendship.

“Edward, you know you have to take the pills or the blackness comes back, right?”

Edward avoided Peter's eyes and continued to dig inside the box.

Peter went into the bathroom and came back out with a full bottle of pills in his hand. Edward backed away, shaking his head.

“No. You can't make me take them. They make me someone else inside, Peter. Please don't make me take them-”

Edward described the blackness once as being trapped in a dark basement with only a small glimmer of light visible overhead. His thoughts during this time scared him and as a result kept to himself. People passed him off as extremely shy. He told Peter that when he was around, sometimes the door to the basement opened and the light poured in and he felt normal. As Peter became more successful and had less time to spend with Edward, the blackness became more prevalent, until it could only be controlled with medication.

Peter placed the bottle of pills on the table.

“You have to take these. Something happened at work and there are cops all over the place. If they find out about you and what you've done, they're going to come down hard, believe that you're the bad person they're looking for.”

Peter took a step forward. Edward edged back until the wall stopped him.

“You haven't been on set again, have you Edward? Like at night when everyone's gone home?”

He shook his head. “No, Peter, I only did it that one time, I swear. I never do it anymore because you told me not to.”

Peter nodded. Edward was covering something up, that much was obvious. He knew if he looked in the freezer, he'd probably find plastic bags filled with small animal parts, but he didn’t feel like looking today.

“Fine. I believe you. But you have to promise me you'll take your medication every day.”

Edward broke into a relieved grin. “Yes, I will take the medication, Peter, I promise.”

Chapter 7

Leine watched as
Billy maneuvered in for Tina's close up, using a handheld camera to achieve the show's signature documentary feel. Personally, Leine got a queasy stomach whenever she watched the playback. She didn't do so well in the back seat of a moving car, either.

“It’s an incredible adrenaline rush to think that I could be next,” Tina said with a breathy sigh. She turned to look at Javier and playfully wiggled her petite foot at him. On cue, Javier looked into the camera and grinned. He lay stretched across a layer of cream-colored satin pillows as he painted Tina’s toenails shell pink, bobbing his head and shoulders to the incessant beat of techno dance music.

A sultry Asian beauty with dark, kohl-lined eyes, Tina's shock of white-blonde hair and sparkly, hot pink mini dress contrasted sharply to Javier's dark good looks, black tux and flawless tan. The magic of body makeup.

They were filming Tina's 'confession' for that week's show. She appeared unperturbed as she recited her lines on camera, although Leine noticed she alternated between gripping the arms of her chair and smoothing her hair back.

The process of shooting a reality show may be interesting to some people, but the well-scripted performances put Leine in escape mode. She'd had enough lying and subterfuge in her old life and deception now set her teeth on edge. It didn't matter that the audience was more or less complicit.

Then there were the contestants. X-ray thin, the way they stared at a hoagie made Leine eat her lunch off-site. What would make a young, attractive woman take a chance on making a love connection with a known felon? Sure, they knew the men weren't actual serial killers once they signed the waiver, but still. Leine couldn't imagine her daughter being quite so naïve.

The bachelors didn't do much for her, either, but she watched them closely. Her gut told her the killer remained nearby, curious to see the effect of his actions. She'd never been tempted to stick around. Once she'd completed a job, she disappeared.

But that was business. This type of kill was personal. Leine never let things get personal.

Tina finished her piece and Billy handed the camera to a grip. Javier said something to her and laughed as he walked away toward the concession table.

Billy sat down in the director's chair and slid what looked like a script from his back pocket. One of the electricians walked up to him and started chatting. Leine waited until they were finished, then made her way over and sat next to him.

“Nice work.”

Billy nodded, smiled. “Thanks.” He eyed her for a moment, then, “You're Gene's friend, right?”

“Yeah.”

“He said you worked as a bodyguard for some government agency.”

“Something like that. Have you always been a cameraman?”

Billy shifted in his chair. A strand of dark, wavy hair fell across his face and he tucked it behind his ear. “No, but it's my favorite, so far. Right up there with director.”

“From what I hear, you're pretty good.”

Billy smiled and looked down, obviously pleased with the compliment.

“What did you do before this?” Leine figured it took years to become proficient in handling a video camera and he didn't look all that old. She guessed late thirties.

He shrugged, looked into the distance. “I tried teaching. Couldn't deal with the bureaucracy. Then I experimented with a couple of other gigs that didn't work out and here I am.” He returned his attention to Leine. “It's a shame about Mandy.  What are you planning to do about it?”

The abrupt change of subject surprised her.

“That's for the police to decide. I'm just here to help make sure everybody's safe.”

Billy folded his arms across his chest. “They know who killed her?”

“Not yet. The police are working a couple of leads. Hopefully they'll know more in the next twenty-four hours.” Leine didn't mention Gene told her they'd narrowed the suspects down to two main persons of interest and interviewed them both that morning.

Leine had been watching each of the bachelors on set and eliminated most of them in her own mind. Gene gave her copies of their personnel files, but none of them struck her as the violent, mutilating kind. One of the two men the cops singled out, Devon Winston, said he'd been having dinner with his mother at the time of the murder. Leine thought the alibi convenient, but figured his mother would break down under questioning if the story wasn't true.

That left Charles Graber, the main bachelor for the season and usually on set. According to the files he was the least violent of the two, but had a shitty alibi. Gene thought the cops found some evidence linking him to the murder. Still, Leine didn't feel one way or another about him.

Billy folded the script and returned it to his back pocket. “Tell me about being a bodyguard. You ever smoke anyone?”

“It wasn't like that. I mainly did low level bureaucrat types.”

Billy studied her for a moment. “Why don't I believe you?”

Leine smiled. He's bluffing, trying to punch up his idea of what kind of person I am. I'm not that transparent.

“You can believe what you want, Billy, but I haven't had to kill anyone.” Technically true. She could have turned down any of the targets, but that would have cost her the reputation she'd worked so hard to build.

Billy's lips curled up at the corners and his eyes danced.

“Whatever you say, Leine.” He got to his feet and held out his hand. “I need to run. Let's talk, soon.”

She shook his hand and he headed for the exit, a bounce in his step.

That's one odd duck, Leine thought. She'd forgotten what L.A. creative types were like. You never knew where you stood, primarily because most of them didn't know, either.

Tina had been hanging out, watching them from the other side of the set, and chose that moment to approach. Her face appeared frozen in time, like a statue. Leine wondered if the young woman used Botox. They certainly started early, she thought.

“You're the new security guard, right?”

Leine nodded. “And you're Tina?”

Tina smiled. Her cheeks barely moved. “That's right.” She slid onto the director's chair. Leine's eyes watered from the onslaught of her perfume.

“Do you think they'll catch the guy soon?”

“They seem to think they're close.”

“It's really hard on the other girls.”

“I can imagine. There's plenty of security on you guys, though. It'll be over soon.”

“It's not that. It's hard for us to not say anything to the press. They're everywhere, and offering a lot of money. A bunch of us have boyfriends and they're wondering why we aren't allowed to see them. Naomi's boyfriend already threatened to break it off with her. He thinks she's lying to him, seeing one of the bachelors on the side.”

“Well, it's pretty important to the case that they know where the contestants are at all times. I'm sure the boyfriend will come around once the killer is caught and she can explain it to him.”

Tina looked away and chewed on her lower lip. She turned back to Leine.

“One of us might have let something slip,” she said, her eyes cutting to the side.

“Oh? Like what?”

“Like telling someone about the-the missing body parts. I think they even paid for the information.”

Nice, Leine thought. Won't be long now before the press picks that up. “I'll have to let the detectives know. It's going to impact the case.”

Tina's kohl-lined eyes widened and she reached over and touched Leine's arm. “You didn't hear this from me. The rest of the girls would rip me apart if they found out.”

Heather and Tina were the top two contenders on the show. Leine figured the information was Tina's way of eliminating the competition. Leine didn't plan on naming anyone, except maybe Tina.

“How many people outside the show know?”

Tina hesitated a moment. “Not more than three, I think.”

“I'll be sure to let the police know.” Leine got up to leave.

Tina looked disappointed. “Aren't you going to ask me who they are?”

“If the police want more information, I'll tell them who told me.” Leine had a pretty good idea which contestants Tina would single out as leaks.

“Do you think the killer will try again?”

“They're doing all they can to prevent that.”

Almost to herself Tina said, “I wonder why he chose Mandy and not me?” She held up a well-toned arm for Leine to see. “I work out, too. She definitely wasn't the most cut, by far.”

Leine took a deep breath.
Wow
. “I'm sure he had his reasons.”

Tina nodded. Leine couldn't be sure, but it looked like a frown struggled to make its appearance.

“Great piece today, by the way.”

“Hmm?”

“The confession Billy just shot. That was some good acting.”

Tina smiled, evidently flattered. “You think so? I've been taking classes.”

“It shows.”