The Executioner (6 page)

‘Robert Hunter, Carlos Garcia, meet your new captain, Barbara Blake,’ William Bolter said as he stirred the cup of coffee in his hand.

Captain Blake’s long dark hair was elegantly styled into a twisted bun. Her skin, under light makeup, looked smooth and well cared for. She wore a pale shade of lipstick, a pearl necklace and matching earrings. Her designer white silk shirt was neatly tucked into a black tube skirt. Hunter knew she was in her early fifties, but she looked no older than forty.

‘Please have a seat.’ She pointed to the two leather chairs in front of her desk. ‘This will be the last time any of you two walk into my office without knocking,’ she said as both detectives sat down.

William Bolter chuckled. ‘I told you she can be a right bitch.’

Hunter kept silent. His eyes studied the new captain. She was playing her cards right. Straight away she was making a stand. Showing she wouldn’t take crap from any of her detectives. The right thing to do on her first day in such a powerful and male-dominated job.

‘I’m gonna skip the bullshit speech I gave the other detectives earlier. I’m sure you’ve heard it all before and I’m not here to patronize you,’ she said, taking a seat behind her new desk. ‘Nothing’s gonna change. You’ll carry on doing your job and you’ll report to me as your captain just as you did with William.’ She nodded towards Captain Bolter.

Hunter liked her style. First show you mean business then play your friendly hand. Barbara Blake was no first-timer.

She tossed a neatly folded newspaper towards both detectives. ‘Your new case is already causing a stir.’

Hunter picked it up and checked the headline.

DECAPITATED PRIEST MADE TO LOOK LIKE THE DEVIL. There were no pictures.

Hunter handed the paper to Garcia without reading the rest of the article. ‘That was expected, captain. Reporters were already there by the time we got to the church. We’re just lucky none of them managed to sneak in and snapshot the body.’

Captain Blake leaned back on her chair. ‘I just came off the phone with Mayor Edwards. As you probably know, he’s a Roman Catholic. He’s also very good friends with Bishop Patrick Clark, who’s the Episcopal Vicar of the San Pedro region. The Seven Saints Catholic Church belongs to that region.’ She paused and locked eyes with Hunter. ‘Mayor Edwards called to pressure me. He wants this investigation to be the very definition of swift justice. I reassured him that, as always, we’d be doing our best. He asked who I had on the case, and when I gave him your name he freaked out.’

Carlos frowned.

‘He demanded I handed the investigation to someone else.’

‘What?’ Garcia looked at Hunter.

‘He’s got some issues with you.’ She continued staring. ‘I’d say he hates your guts. What did you do, bed his wife?’

A slight head tilt from Hunter. William Bolter kept his eyes on his coffee cup.

‘Oh hell no,’ she said as her eyes widened. ‘Please tell me you didn’t bed the mayor’s wife.’

Garcia cocked both eyebrows.

‘With all due respect, captain, I don’t see what my personal life has to do with the case.’

The captain’s lips twitched. She stood up and walked around to the front of her desk. ‘I’d have to agree with that statement. William tells me you’re the best he’s ever commanded. I trust his judgment. And I’ll be damned if on my first day as the RHD captain I’ll allow some snob-ass politician to try and intimidate me, much less tell me which of my detectives I should or shouldn’t assign to an investigation.’

William Bolter smiled.

‘I told the mayor the case was being handled by extremely competent and experienced detectives. And never to try and tell me how to run my division again.’

‘You defied the mayor of Los Angeles on your first day?’ Hunter asked calmly. ‘Most people would prefer to have him on their side.’

Captain Blake leaned against her desk directly in front of Hunter. ‘Do you think I made a mistake, Detective Hunter?’

Hunter held her gaze. ‘Do
you
think you made a mistake, captain?’

Captain Blake’s smile was full of confidence. ‘Let’s get one thing straight from the word go, shall we? I’ll always stand by my detectives. So don’t even think about starting with that
Miami-Vice, I don’t give a crap
bullshit attitude. It doesn’t bother me pissing politicians off. What bothers me is not having the trust of the people I work with.’ Her voice was steady and firm. Her stare moving between both detectives. ‘If the mayor’s only beef with you is because you tapped his wife, that’s something he’s gonna have to live with. I don’t have time for that crap. So in answer to your question, Detective Hunter – no, I don’t think I made a mistake.’

Hunter couldn’t fault her. She really knew how to play her cards right.

Barbara Blake didn’t allow the silence to settle.

‘So what have we got on this new case?’

Hunter proceeded to tell her the little they had so far on Father Fabian’s murder.

‘Goddamnit,’ she spat the word. ‘So this killer’s probably killed twice before?’

‘It’s possible, but it isn’t a certainty,’ Hunter replied, pinching his chin.

Captain Blake lifted her eyebrows, inviting him to carry on.

‘The number three could mean Father Fabian’s the third victim or it could mean something else.’

‘Like what?’

‘I’m not sure. Something important to the killer, or Father Fabian, or both. The truth is that we don’t know yet and it’s irresponsible to make assumptions this early.’

‘OK, I can go with that,’ Captain Blake agreed. ‘Do you think the altar boy could be involved? It’s not unheard of.’

‘I don’t think so,’ Hunter replied.

‘Why not?’

‘It takes a certain kind of person to be able to kill someone the way Father Fabian was killed. Hermano isn’t physically or mentally strong enough. He’s only fourteen.’

‘We’d also be missing motive,’ Garcia cut in. ‘And we already deducted the killer is about six-two. Hermano is five-six, five-seven tops.’

‘How did you figure out the killer’s height?’

Garcia started explaining, but after thirty seconds the captain raised her right hand, stopping him. ‘Forget I asked.’ She returned to her seat and faced Hunter. ‘What’re your initial feelings on this?’

‘We have only one victim so far, and that gives us nothing to establish a consistent pattern. Initial analysis of the crime scene indicates the UNSUB is very strong, skilled, intelligent, methodical and brutal. Despite the savagery of what we found in the church, Father Fabian’s murder was well planned.’

‘Methodical and planned?’ She frowned. ‘From what I’ve heard, there was blood everywhere. An extremely messy crime scene. Doesn’t that indicate rage and loss of control?’

‘In most cases, yes.’

She waited for Hunter to go on. He didn’t. ‘Care to develop, detective?’ she pushed.

‘The Seven Saints crime scene might appear messy to an outsider, but not to the killer. The bloodstains and splatters were exactly where he wanted them to be. It was a controlled and planned mess.’

‘Ritual?’

Hunter leaned forward on his seat and ran his hand over his nose and mouth. ‘What we have so far indicates so.’

‘Baptism of fire for you, Barbara,’ William Bolter said, approaching the window behind her desk.

‘I’ll assign an extra officer to you,’ she announced, looking at Hunter. ‘It should help with the legwork. If you need any more, let me know. I’ve also already moved you two to the special operations room upstairs. You’ll need the extra space. I’ve set up an anonymous tip line. I know they usually cause more headaches than anything else, but who knows? We might get lucky.’ Captain Blake paused and flipped through a few pieces of paper on her desk. ‘With the press already all over this case and a pissed-off mayor, there’ll be a lot of pressure on us to come up with answers . . . and fast.’

The special operations room was spacious and well lit. Two metal desks already equipped with computer terminals and telephones occupied the center of the room. A fax machine sat on a small wooden table in the corner. A large, nonmagnetic marker board and a half-empty bookcase covered most of the west wall. In the opposite corner was an old-fashioned cork-board. It was mounted onto wheeled pedestals and stood next to two battered gray metal filing cabinets.

Crime-scene photos and witnesses’ statements had already been placed on Hunter’s desk ready to be organized. He fired up his computer as a knock came at the door.

‘It’s open,’ Hunter called.

Officer Ian Hopkins stepped into the room carrying a brown paper envelope.

‘Detective Hunter. These are the photographs you asked me to take of the crowd in front of the church yesterday.’ He handed the envelope to Hunter.

Garcia had forgotten all about that.

There were twenty-five pictures in total. Hunter spread them on his desk, bending over to look at each one attentively for a few seconds.

‘Do you think the killer could’ve been watching from the crowd?’ Hopkins asked with a hint of excitement.

‘It’s possible,’ Hunter agreed, his eyes moving to another photograph.

‘If you don’t mind me asking, detective, why would he do that?’ Hopkins’s curiosity increased.

‘It’s basic human nature. We all want recognition for things we’ve done. Many killers enjoy watching the drama of the aftermath of their actions unfold. They’re very proud of their work.’

‘Proud?’ Hopkins smiled nervously. ‘That’s pretty sick.’

‘Serial killers usually are,’ Garcia commented from his desk.

‘Serial killer?’ Hopkins asked a little too enthusiastically. ‘Was that the work of a serial killer yesterday?’

Garcia laughed.

Hunter kept his eyes on the photos.

‘Do you think the killer is in one of those photos, Detective Hunter?’ Hopkins insisted.

‘It was already raining by the time you took these.’ Hunter shook his head. ‘Everyone had either a hood on or an open umbrella. If he is, we wouldn’t know.’

‘I messed up,’ Hopkins said, running his hand through his hair. ‘I should’ve gotten closer, shouldn’t I?’

Hunter turned and faced him. ‘It’s not your fault the rain came down, Officer . . .?’

‘Hopkins, sir. Ian Hopkins.’ He extended his hand and Hunter shook it firmly.

‘You did what I asked you to do, Officer Hopkins.’

Hopkins gave Hunter an unconvincing smile. He felt he should’ve done better.

‘How long have you been a cop, Ian?’ Hunter asked, studying Hopkins.

‘Three months this week, sir,’ he answered proudly.

‘Do you like it?’

‘Yes, very much.’

‘Yesterday, was that your first crime scene?’

‘No, sir. A couple of gang shootouts and an armed robbery. All of them with fatal victims.’

‘At the church yesterday,’ Hunter continued, ‘I know you were very curious to have a look at the crime scene. Why didn’t you?’

‘Because my orders were to stay outside and deal with the onlookers. And then to take some pictures of them.’ He gestured to the photos on Hunter’s desk.

Hunter glanced at Garcia and they exchanged an unspoken agreement. ‘OK, how’d you like to carry on helping with this investigation?’

Hopkins’s eyes lit up.

‘That’d be fantastic . . . sir.’ He couldn’t believe his luck. To police officers a serial-murder case is the champagne of homicides, and he’d just been given a VIP invitation to join the party.

‘OK. Captain Blake said she’d assign an officer to us. I’ll request you.’

‘Thank you, sir.’

‘I’m not sure
thank you
are the words you’ll be using in a week’s time.’ Hunter leaned back and interlaced his fingers behind his head. ‘This won’t be easy.’

‘I don’t like
easy
, sir.’

Hunter smiled. ‘Good, so let’s start with you dropping the “sir” crap. I’m Robert and this is Carlos.’ Hunter gestured towards Garcia. ‘Are you any good with computers? I mean, internet searching, research, that sort of stuff?’

‘Yeah, I’m very good at it.’

‘Great. I’ll introduce you to Jack Kerley, the main guy in our IT unit. He’ll get you set up.’

‘OK, that sounds great to me.’

‘One more thing,’ Hunter said, stopping Hopkins before he left the room. ‘This case and everything related to it is to be discussed with no one other than Carlos and myself, do you understand?’

‘Yes, sir.’ He nodded eagerly before reaching for the door.

The phone on Hunter’s desk rang.

‘Detective Hunter.’

It was Doctor Winston. ‘Robert, I’ve got the results of the autopsy together with a few of the lab tests. I can email them to you, but . . .’

Hunter sensed the uneasiness in the doctor’s voice. ‘It’s OK. We’ll be right over, doc.’

In the Los Angeles lunchtime traffic, it took them over twenty-five minutes to cover the two miles between the RHD headquarters and the LACDC. Doctor Winston was waiting for them in room 2B, the same autopsy room they were in earlier.