The Crucifix Killer (10 page)

Garcia studied the photographs. ‘I’m assuming the original investigation checked for doctors as probable suspects.’

‘And medical students, nurses, and so on and so forth. It didn’t lead us to anyone,’ Hunter answered.

Garcia moved back towards the body. ‘You said there are no birthmarks, no tattoos. Is there anything that can help us identify the body?’

‘We can try her face.’

Garcia stared at Doctor Winston sullenly. ‘Are you kidding?’

‘This is the twenty-first century, detective,’ the doctor said, his mouth twisted in what might’ve been a trace of a smile. ‘Computers can perform miracles nowadays. They’ve already been working on it upstairs for an hour and we shall have some sort of computer image ready any minute now. If we’re lucky you can pick it up on your way out.’

‘Judging by how much effort she put into her appearance I’d say she was either a model or an aspiring actress,’ Hunter suggested.

‘Or a high-class hooker, perhaps even a porn actress. They can make a lot of money you know,’ Garcia complemented Hunter’s suggestion.

‘How do you know? Dated a porn star recently, have you?’ Hunter smiled.

‘Um . . . it’s common knowledge.’

‘Of course it is. So who’s your favorite star?’

‘I’m married.’

‘Oh yeah. That makes a difference, I forgot. Married men don’t watch porn. Let me guess. You probably like Briana Banks.’

‘She
is
hot,’ Garcia said and immediately froze.

‘You walked straight into that one,’ Doctor Winston said padding him on the back.

Both detectives regarded the body in front of them for a while. She looked different now. Her skin seemed rubbery and paler and her mutilated face looked like a mask – a well-made-up actress ready to shoot a horror scene in some Hollywood production – an image of almost pure evil.

‘We’d better go check up on that computer image, doc, or is there anything else you’d like to show us?’

‘No, Robert, I’m afraid there isn’t much else I can tell you about her.’

‘Are you keeping her in this room?’

‘As requested by your captain . . . yes, we have our own cooling chamber in here. Let’s just hope we don’t have to fill it up with any more bodies.’

Hunter and Garcia buzzed themselves out of the autopsy room and walked up to the computer tech lab in silence.

‘Can I ask you something?’ Garcia asked.

‘Shoot.’

‘How come no one believed you when you told them that Mike Farloe wasn’t the Crucifix Killer?’

‘I never said that. In the end Captain Bolter and my ex-partner, Scott, saw my reasoning. But with all the evidence found in Farloe’s car, coupled up with him confessing to the murders, there wasn’t much we could do. It was in the DA’s hands. And they didn’t wanna hear any reasoning.’ Hunter looked down debating if he should carry on. ‘Maybe the truth is that we all wanted it to end,’ he finally said. ‘It had gone on for too long. Deep inside I secretly wished Farloe was the real killer. And now the nightmare is back.’

For Garcia the nightmare was just starting. For Hunter this was the worst kind, a recurring one.

Excluding children’s and psychiatric, there were eight hospitals in total in the central Los Angeles area, but only four of them showed Jane Doe entries for the past few days. Posing as the boyfriend or as a work colleague, Jerome visited all four with no luck. If Jenny had been admitted into a hospital, it hadn’t been one in downtown LA.

Jerome had thought about extending his search to places like Santa Monica, San Diego, Long Beach, Santa Ana, but that would’ve taken him an entire week and he didn’t have that kind of time. He decided to get in contact with Detective Culhane.

Mark Culhane hated receiving payments from a criminal, a drug lord, but he couldn’t deny the money came in handy; it was more than twice his Narcotics Division pay. In return, he was expected to look the other way during major drug deals, slightly mislead investigations and provide inside information every now and again. It’s a corrupt world and it didn’t take much effort from D-King to find Mark Culhane.

Jerome and Culhane met at the In-N-Out Burger restaurant in Gayley Avenue, one of Jerome’s favorite burger joints. By the time Culhane arrived, Jerome had already devoured two Double-Double burgers.

Culhane was forty-nine years old, five foot six, with a receding hairline and a frightening beer belly. Jerome had always wondered what would happen if Culhane had to chase a suspect on foot.

‘Culhane . . . sit down,’ Jerome said, eating the last of his fries.

Culhane sat opposite Jerome in the small old-fashioned diner booth. He looked older than Jerome remembered. The bags under his eyes had gained some extra weight. Jerome had no time for pleasantries and he slid a brown-paper envelope towards the detective. Culhane grabbed it and brought it close to his chest, holding it like a hand of poker. He had a quick look at the photograph inside.

‘She’s missing,’ Jerome carried on.

‘So? Talk to missing persons, I’m Narcotics remember?’ Culhane replied, clearly irritated.

‘Was that attitude?’ Jerome asked, having another swig of his giant-size root beer.

Culhane kept silent.

‘Let’s just say D-King considers her to be a special girl.’ He slid another envelope towards the detective. ‘This is extra.’

This time Culhane didn’t have to open it to know what was inside it. He picked the envelope up and placed it in his pocket.

‘What’s her name?’ he sked, his irritation dissipating.

‘Jenny Farnborough.’

‘Did she run out on him or you think it might be something else?’

‘We’re not sure, but we don’t think she’s a runaway. She’s got nothing to run away from. On top of that all of her belongings are still in her apartment.’

‘Is she hooked? Could she just be tripping out somewhere?’

‘I don’t think so. She does coke every now and then, you know, to keep her going, but she is no junkie. She wouldn’t work for the boss if she was.’

‘Boyfriend? Family?’

‘No boyfriend – her family lives in rednecksville somewhere in Idaho or Wyoming, but she doesn’t get along with them anyway.’

‘When was the last time you saw her?’

‘Last Friday night. She was out partying with the boss and a few other girls; she went to the bathroom to retouch her makeup, and that was it.’

‘She might’ve been arrested and she’s just cooling off in a cell somewhere.’

‘She would’ve called if that was the case and I don’t know what she’d be arrested for, but I guess you better check that out too.’

‘Can I get you anything?’ The question came from a young brunette waitress who’d approached their table.

‘No, I’m OK thanks,’ Culhane said with a dismissive hand gesture and waited until the waitress was out of earshot. ‘Is there anything else I need to know?’ His attention was back on Jerome.

‘Nope, I guess that’s all.’

‘Did she steal any money or something that would’ve given her a reason to disappear?’

‘Not from us.’

‘Gambling debts?’

‘Not that we know of.’

‘Was she involved with anyone else, maybe one of D-King’s competitors?’

‘Nah-ah,’ the reply came with a shake of the head. ‘She was a good girl, probably his best girl. She had no reason to run away.’ He had another sip of his root beer.

‘The good ones are usually the worst.’ Culhane’s comment failed to amuse Jerome. ‘How long has she been with D-King?’

‘Almost three years.’

‘Maybe she’d had enough and she wanted out.’

‘You know the boss doesn’t mind if any of his girls want out. If she’d had enough all she had to do was say it. Plus as I’ve said, she didn’t take any of her stuff with her.’

‘OK, give me twenty-four hours and I’ll see if I can come up with anything.’ Culhane got up ready to leave.

‘Culhane.’

‘Yeah,’ he said turning to face Jerome.

‘D-King wants to keep this quiet, so don’t go flashing her picture around like a pair of tits.’

Culhane nodded and made his way to the door while Jerome reopened the menu on the desserts page.

Sitting inside his car, Culhane had another look at the picture Jerome had given him. The girl was stunning, the sort of girl he’d have to pay a lot of money to sleep with. He tapped the other envelope inside his pocket.
Hello, new car
, he thought with a wide smile.

Culhane guessed the girl in the photograph was in trouble. D-King was good to his girls, the nice apartments, the expensive clothes, the free drugs, the superstar lifestyle. He’d never heard of any of them running away.

He could start with a hospital search, but that would take way too long. After thinking about it for a few seconds he reached for his cell phone and dialed Peter Talep, a good friend of his who worked for the missing person’s department of the LAPD.

‘Pete, it’s Mark from Narcotics, how’re you doing? I need a small favor . . .’

*

The LAPD Missing Persons Unit was established in 1972. The unit has citywide responsibility for the investigation of adult missing persons with over twenty-five investigative detectives. Peter Talep was one of them.

Peter met Culhane at the lobby of the South Bureau Police Department in 77th Street. Culhane needed a good story to get Peter to search the missing person’s database without raising any eyebrows or putting in an official request. He claimed Jenny was one of his major narcotic informers and sometime in the past seventy-two hours she’d gone missing. Culhane wanted Peter to use his department’s access to check the hospital files.

‘So, do you have a picture of this girl we’re looking for?’ Peter asked.

‘Unfortunately I don’t, that’s why I have to go through the records with you, keeping pictures of informers can lead to a lot of trouble,’ Culhane lied. If D-King wanted to keep this quiet, handing Jenny’s picture to Peter wasn’t a great idea.

‘OK, so what am I looking for?’

‘Caucasian female, around twenty-three, twenty-four, blond hair, blue eyes, stunning looking, if you see her picture you’d probably know,’ Culhane said with a malicious smile.

‘When was the last time you had contact with her?’

‘Last Friday.’

‘Do you know if she has any family around, someone that might’ve reported her missing?’

‘No, I don’t think so, she lived alone. Family are from out of town.’

‘Boyfriend, husband?’

‘No.’

‘So nobody would’ve reported her missing? You’re the first one?’

‘Yep,’ Culhane agreed.

‘So if she went missing on Friday, it’ll be too soon,’ Peter said, shaking his head.

‘What do you mean? What’ll be too soon?’

Peter rolled his chair away from his computer. ‘All the records we have in our database are from missing persons that have been reported in by someone – family, boyfriend, whatever. People will usually bring in a picture and fill in a missing person’s report, you know the protocol. Anyway, that record is then fed into the Missing and Unidentified Persons Unit database. If no one’s reported her missing, there will be no record.’

‘Yes, but how about hospital patients, you know, Jane Doe’s?’

‘Well, those are quite rare.’

‘Yeah, but they do happen?’

‘Yes, but she needs to be either unconscious or have lost her memory. If that’s the case the hospital would usually wait anywhere between seven to fifteen days before considering the patient a proper Jane or John Doe and reporting them to us. We then compare the picture the hospital sends us with what we have in our database and check for a match. If there isn’t one the patient is then inserted into the MUPU database as unidentified. If she went missing on Friday and no one has reported her missing, that’s way too soon. If she is unconscious in a hospital somewhere or has lost her memory, you’ll have to wait until she regains consciousness, check hospital by hospital for a Jane Doe or wait up to two weeks and check back here with me.’

‘Shit!’

‘Sorry, Mark, there isn’t much I can do for you.’

‘That’s OK, thanks anyway.’

Outside the South Bureau Police Department, Culhane sat in his car pondering his options. He sure as hell wasn’t about to go on a hospital tour of LA just to find some hooker for D-King. The past weekend arrests’ report he’d requested had just been sent to his car fax machine. Six girls matched the description. Three had already made bail. He had a hunch none of the remaining girls would be the one he was looking for, but he had to check them.

It took around five minutes for the pictures to come through. As he’d suspected none of them was Jenny. There was one more thing left to do – check for a dead body.

He could try and ask for information from the Homicide Division, but there has always been animosity between Homicide and Narcotics detectives. More often than not one type of investigation would lead into the other. In LA, drugs and murder walked side by side.

Screw the Homicide division
, Culhane thought. If Jenny was dead, there was only one place she’d be – the morgue.