The Crucifix Killer (2 page)

Jenny made her way towards the bar closest to the ladies’ room where two barmen seemed rushed off their feet. The entire club was a tremendous buzz of beautiful people, the great majority of them in their twenties and early thirties. Jenny was oblivious to the pair of eyes that followed her from the VIP area to the bar. Eyes that had been on her all night. In fact, they’d been following her for the past four weeks, from nightclub to nightclub and hotel to hotel. Watching her as she pretended to have a good time, as she pleasured each and every one of her clients.

‘Hi, Jen, are you OK? You look a bit tired,’ Pietro, the longhaired barman, asked as Jenny approached the bar. He still spoke with a slight Spanish accent.

‘I’m OK, hun, just too much partying I guess,’ she said unenthusiastically after catching a glimpse of herself in one of the bar mirrors. Her hypnotic blue eyes seemed to have lost some of their sparkle tonight.

‘No rest for the wicked, huh?’ Pietro’s comment came with a shy smile.

‘Not tonight,’ Jenny smiled back.

‘Can I get you anything?’

‘No, I’m OK. I’m still struggling with this one.’ She raised her champagne glass giving him a sexy wink. ‘I just needed to get away from the party for a little while.’

Pietro and Jenny had flirted a few times but he’d never made a move on her. He knew she belonged to D-King.

‘Well, if you need anything just give me a shout.’ Pietro went back to preparing cocktails and flipping bottles. A dark-haired woman who had been standing on the other side of the bar dying to get his attention gave Jenny an evil look that said ‘Back off, bitch, I saw him first
.
’

Jenny swept a hand through her long, wheat-blond hair, placed her champagne glass on the bar counter and turned around to face the dance floor. She enjoyed the club’s atmosphere. All those people having fun, dancing, drinking and finding love. OK, maybe not love, she thought, but at least they’d be having sex for pleasure, not money. She wanted to be just like them. This was definitely not the beautiful Hollywood life she’d dreamed of when she left Idaho six years ago.

Jenny Farnborough’s fascination with Hollywood started at the age of twelve. The movie theater became her shelter from the never-ending rows between her submissive mother and her overly aggressive stepfather. Films became her escape route, the vehicle that could take her places she’d never been before and she wanted to be a part of it.

Jenny knew that the Hollywood dream was nothing more than a fantasy. Something that existed only in clichéd romantic books and films, and she’d read and watched plenty of those. She had to admit she was a dreamer, but maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing. Maybe she’d be the lucky one. She had nothing to lose.

At the age of fourteen she started her first job as a popcorn girl. Jenny saved every dime she earned and by her sixteenth birthday she had enough saved up to leave that godforsaken town behind. She swore she’d never go back to Idaho. Jenny never found out about her mother overdosing on sleeping pills only a week after she’d left.

Hollywood was everything she’d expected it to be. A magical place full of beautiful people, lights and fantasies, but the harsh reality of life in the City of Angels was a far cry from the illusion she’d created. Her savings didn’t last long and with no professional training the rejections started piling up like dirty laundry. Her beautiful dream slowly began to turn into a nightmare.

Jenny was introduced to D-King by Wendy Loutrop, another struggling wannabe actress. At first she’d rejected every proposition he’d made her. She’d heard all the stories about beautiful women coming to Hollywood dreaming of becoming a star only to end up working the streets or for the porn-movie industry. Jenny was determined not to give in. She didn’t want to become just another failure story, but her pride had to play second fiddle to her survival instinct, and after several months of phone calls and expensive gifts D-King had himself a new girl.

Jenny never noticed the hand pouring a colorless liquid into her champagne glass. Her eyes were still set on the dancing crowd.

‘Hi there, babe, can I buy you a drink?’ a tall, blond man standing to her right asked with a bright smile.

‘I already have a drink, but thank you for the offer anyway,’ she replied politely without locking eyes with the stranger.

‘Are you sure? I can order us a bottle of Cristal. What do you say, babe?’

Jenny turned and faced the tall blond man. He was smartly dressed wearing a dark-grey Versace suit, a crisp white shirt with a stiff collar and a blue silk tie. His green eyes were his most striking feature. Jenny had to admit he was an attractive man.

‘What’s your name?’ she said forcing a smile.

‘I’m Carl and it’s a pleasure to meet you,’ he said offering his hand.

Instead of shaking it Jenny had a sip of her champagne. ‘Look Carl, you’re quite a handsome guy, I’ll give you that’ – her voice now taking a very sweet tone – ‘but trying to pick up a girl by flashing your money around is not a great idea, especially in a place like this. It makes us feel cheap, unless you are looking for a bimbo – is that what you are looking for? A pro?’

‘Oh . . . No!’ Carl fumbled with his tie nervously. ‘Sorry, that’s not how I meant it, babe.’

‘So you ain’t looking for a party girl to show you a
really
good time?’ she asked having another sip of her champagne, her eyes now fixed on his.

‘No, of course not, hun. Just trying to have a friendly drink, and if there’s any chemistry between us . . .’ He left the sentence hanging in the air with a shrug of his shoulders.

Very gently, she ran her fingers down his tie before pulling him closer. ‘It’s a pity you’re not looking for a party girl,’ she whispered into his left ear.

Carl’s smile evaporated into a confused look.

‘I could’ve given you my pimp’s number, he’s right over there.’ She pointed to the VIP area with a sarcastic smile on her lips.

Carl half opened his mouth as if about to say something but no words came out.

Jenny drank the rest of her champagne and gave him a sexy wink before moving away from the bar and into the ladies’ room.

The eyes still followed her.

It won’t be long now. The drug will soon show its effect.

Jenny was re-applying her lipstick when she started to feel faint. She knew something was wrong. All of a sudden she felt hot and feverish. The walls seemed to be closing in on her. She found it hard to breathe and moved towards the door as quickly as she could. She needed to get out of there.

As she stumbled out of the ladies’ room the entire place spun around her. She wanted to go back to D-King’s table but her legs weren’t responding. Jenny was about to collapse on the floor when a pair of hands grabbed her.

‘Are you OK, babe? You don’t look so good.’

‘I don’t feel too well. I think I need . . .’

‘You need some air. It’s too stuffy in here. Come with me, I’ll help you. Let’s step outside for a while.’

‘But I . . .’ Jenny had started to slur her words. ‘I need to tell D . . . I have to go back to . . .’

‘Later, babe, now you just need to come with me.’

No one noticed Jenny and the stranger walking towards the club exit.

‘Yes, Detective Hunter speaking.’ Hunter finally answered his cell phone after the sixth ring. His voice was deep and the words came out slowly, giving away how few hours sleep he’d had.

‘Robert, where the hell have you been? The captain’s been after you for two hours.’

‘Rookie, is that you? What time is it?’ Hunter’s new sidekick, Carlos Garcia, had been assigned to him only a week ago after the death of his long-term partner.

‘Three in the morning.’

‘What day?’

‘Shit man . . . Monday. Look, you’d better come and have a look at this, we’ve got a really screwed up homicide on our hands.’

‘We’re Homicide Special Section 1, Carlos. Screwed up homicides is all we do.’

‘Well, this one’s a real mess and you’d better get here quick. The captain wants us to run this show.’

‘Uh-huh,’ Hunter replied indifferently. ‘Gimme the address?’

He put his cell phone down and looked around the small, dark, unfamiliar room. ‘Where the hell am I?’ he whispered.

The thumping headache and the terrible taste in his mouth reminded him of how much he’d had to drink the night before and he sunk his head deep into the pillow hoping that would soothe the pain. Suddenly there was movement next to him on the bed.

‘Hi, does that phone call mean you have to go?’ The woman’s voice was soft and sexy with a hint of an Italian accent. Hunter’s surprised eyes fell over the half-covered body lying next to him. Through the little light coming into the room from the lamp posts outside the window he could just about make out her outline. Quick memories of last night flashed through his mind. The bar, the drinks, the flirting, the cab ride to a stranger’s apartment and the long dark-haired woman whose name he couldn’t remember. This was the third woman he’d woken up next to in the past five weeks.

‘Yeah, I do have to go. I’m sorry,’ he sounded casual.

Hunter got up and started looking for his trousers; his headache was more prominent now. His eyes quickly got used to the dimly lit room allowing him to see the woman’s face better. She looked to be thirty or thirty-one years old. Her silky, dark hair hung about four inches past her shoulders framing a heart-shaped face with delicate sculpted nose and lips. She was attractive, but not in a Hollywood-movie-star way. Her uneven fringe suited her perfectly and her dark-green eyes carried an unusual and captivating sparkle.

By the bedroom door Hunter found his trousers and underwear – the pair with blue teddy-bear prints.

Too late to feel embarrassed now, he thought. ‘Can I use your bathroom?’ he asked zipping up his trousers.

‘Sure, it’s the first door on the right as you come out of the room,’ she said sitting up and resting her back against the headboard.

Hunter entered the bathroom and closed the door behind him. After splashing a handful of cold water onto his face, he stared at his reflection in the mirror. His blue eyes looked bloodshot. His skin paler than normal. His face unshaven.

‘That’s great, Robert,’ he said to himself, splashing some more water onto his tired-looking face. ‘Another woman who you barely remember meeting, never mind coming back to her apartment. Casual sex is great. It’s even better when you can recall having some. I have to cut down on this drinking business.’

After squirting a little toothpaste on his finger he tried to finger-brush his teeth. Suddenly, a new thought entered his mind. What if she’s a hooker? What if I owe her money for something I don’t even remember doing? He quickly checked his wallet. The little money he had was still there.

He hand-combed his short blond hair and returned to the bedroom where she was still sitting against the headboard.

‘Were you talking to yourself in there?’ she asked with a shy smile.

‘What? Oh yeah, I do that sometimes, it keeps me sane. Look . . .’ He finally managed to find his shirt on the floor next to the bed. ‘Do I owe you any money?’ he asked sounding breezy.

‘What? You think I’m a prostitute?’ she replied clearly offended.

Oh shit!
He knew he’d blown it. ‘No, look . . . It’s not like that, it’s just . . . It’s happened to me before. Sometimes I drink too much and . . . I didn’t mean it as an offence.’

‘Do I look like a hooker to you?’ she asked in an annoyed voice.

‘Definitely not,’ he replied firmly. ‘It was stupid of me thinking such a thing. I’m sorry. I’m probably still half drunk,’ he back-paddled as fast as he could.

She regarded him for a moment. ‘Look, I’m not the kind of woman you clearly think I am. My job carries a lot of pressure and it’s been tough the last few months. I just wanted to let out some steam and have a few drinks. We got talking. You were funny, nice, quite charming even. You could actually hold a decent conversation. Unlike most of the other jerks I meet when I go out. One drink led to another and we ended up in bed. Obviously a mistake on my part.’

‘No . . . Look . . .’ Hunter tried to find the right words, ‘ . . . sometimes I say stuff without thinking. And the truth is . . . I don’t remember much of last night. I’m really sorry. And I feel like an asshole now.’

‘So you should.’

‘Believe me, I do.’

Her eyes were fixed on Hunter. He sounded sincere.

‘Anyway, if I were a hooker, judging by your underwear and clothes I don’t think you’d be able to afford me.’

‘Ooh. That was low punch. I was already embarrassed enough without you mentioning it.’

She smiled.

Hunter was glad his back-paddling had worked. ‘Do you mind if I make myself a quick cup of coffee before I go?’

‘I don’t have any coffee, only tea, but you are more than welcome to it if you like. The kitchen is just down the hall.’

‘Tea? I think I’ll pass. I need something stronger to wake me up.’ He finished buttoning up his shirt.

‘You sure you can’t stay?’ She pulled the covers back revealing her naked form. Great curves, nicely formed breasts and there was no hair anywhere on her body. ‘Maybe you could show me how really sorry you are for calling me a hooker.’