Hangman

“Any ID?” Decker asked.

“None so far,” Marge answered. “Is it Terry?”

Decker stared a long time. “I’d like to say no, but honestly she’s too distorted to tell.” He took out his notebook and began to make some sketches. “What cable company services this area?”

“American Lifeline does most of the Valley,” Marge answered. “I’ll call them up and get a schedule of who’s working in the area.”

Decker said. “Find out what kind of cable wire they use. Also get someone to start calling electronic shops and computer stores in the area and find out what kind of cable they sell.”

“I’ll do that,” Oliver said.

“No, get Lee Wang to make all the calls. You and Marge start canvassing the area. I’ll bring in a couple of other Dees to help you out.” Decker continued to study the body. “Do we have any ideas who this might be?”

“Wynona Pratt is making calls to the other station houses, finding out if any young women were reported missing.”

Decker rubbed his forehead and turned to the photographer, George Stubbs, a gray-haired, stocky man in his fifties. “Are you done with her?”

“Almost.”

“Did you take close-ups of her neck?”

“I took some. I can take more.”

“Do that. Also take several snapshots of the knot on the ceiling where the cable wire is knotted.”

Marge had gloved up and was studying the body, circling it like carrion. By law, no one could touch the body until the coroner’s investigator gave the okay. “This seems like a bloodless murder. No bullet holes, no stab wounds. No defensive wounds on her hands. Her nails aren’t chipped or scratched. Her French polish manicure is like new.” She looked up. “Happen to notice if Terry had on nail polish?”

Decker thought back, trying to recall Terry’s hands. Then he noticed the hanging woman’s feet—bright red toenails. “When Terry first spoke to me, her feet were bare and I don’t recall her toenails being polished.” A pause. “She could have polished them later, after I left, but how likely is that unless she had it done in the hotel’s salon.”

Marge said, “I’ll call up and ask.”

He stared at the face. “It’s not her.”

“You’re sure.”

“Almost certain.” He regarded her features, then shook his head. “Do we have any forensics—semen, fingerprints, shoe prints, maybe some tire tracks in the area? Lots of dust and dirt, we should be able to pull something from the ground.”

“I’ve been bagging garbage,” Oliver said.

“Marking the spots?”

Oliver held up some small orange cones with numbers on them.

Decker said, “What have picked up?”

“Mostly fast-food sandwich wrappers and junk from the roach coach. S.I.D. is on the way. So are a couple of investigators from the Crypt.”

“If it’s a construction site, where’s all the activity?” Decker asked.

“No activity because they’re waiting for the framing inspector to sign off. The appointment was for four o’clock in the afternoon. The foreman, who’s name is Chuck Tinsley, arrived here first and was going over the property just to make sure everything looked okay. He was waiting for the contractor and the architect to come down when he discovered the body. He called 911, then immediately called the contractor, who is on his way.”

“Where’s Tinsley?”

Marge pointed to a black-and-white. “He’s ensconced inside. Should I get him?”

Decker nodded as his gaze continued to fix on the swinging corpse. His thoughts were meandering to several places, and none were good.

CHAPTER SEVEN

THE BACK PASSENGER door to the cruiser was open, a uniform standing in front of the space, keeping watch over her charge as well as the set of wheels. If Decker squinted, he could see a figure huddled in the backseat, his arms wrapped around his body as if his arms were straps on a straitjacket. As Decker approached the car, he nodded to the police officer and pointed to the open door. The cop bent down and spoke to the huddled man. When he emerged, Tinsley was average height, a tank of a fellow with long, muscular arms, dark eyes, a strong chin, and a face of controlled stubble. The officer led him to Decker, who glanced at her tag.

“Thank you, Officer Breckenridge, I’ll take it from here.” He extended his hand to the foreman, whose complexion was ashen behind the darkening of beard. He had brown eyes, a Roman nose, and thin lips. His hair was a nest of cowlicks. He appeared to be in his thirties. “Lieutenant Peter Decker.”

“Chuck Tinsley.” His voice was deep but held a slight tremble. “This is…I’m a little freaked out.”

“I do this for a living and I’m a lot freaked out,” Decker said.

Tinsley laughed nervously. “If you see a pile of vomit, it’s probably mine.”

“How’s your stomach now?” Decker asked.

He held up a soda can. “Someone was nice enough to give me this. I think it was the lady cop. I’m a little confused.”

Decker pulled out his notebook. “Why don’t you tell me what happened?”

“Nothing much to tell. I came early to clean up before the contractor arrived.” He bit his lip. “I saw the body.”

“Can we back it up for a minute?”

“Sure?”

“When did you get to the site?”

“Around quarter to.”

“Quarter to what?”

“Oh, quarter to two. One forty-five.”

“And when were you supposed to meet the contractor.”

“Around three-thirty, four.”

Decker looked at his watch. It was nearly three now. “You came early?”

“Yeah, to clean up. You know how it is with construction crews,” Tinsley said. “They throw their shit all over the place. I try to get them to clean up at the end of the day, but if it’s been a hard one, I let it go. It’s easier to clean up by myself when they’re not here. That’s what I was doing. With the inspection coming, you need a clean site.”

“So you came at one forty-five and…what did you immediately start doing?”

“Cleaning up stuff. Picking up nails, piling up loose lumber, gathering up tools left behind, throwing away trash…lots of trash.”

“Did you have a trash bag with you?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Where is the bag now?”

Tinsley’s eyes narrowed in confusion. “Not sure. Probably I dropped it when I saw the body.”

“When you noticed the body, how long had you been at the site?”

“Maybe five minutes. I saw a lot of flies and figured there was a pile of dog shit that I needed to clean up. Not that I see a lot of dog shit inside the house, but I figured what else could be attracting so many flies?”

“Then what did you do?”

“I think I found a plastic bag or something to pick up the shit with. After that, things got fuzzy. I think I mighta screamed. Then I barfed. Then I called 911 on my cell.”

“You also called the contractor?”

“Yeah, I called him, too. He told me he was running late, and hopefully he’d make it before the inspector. But then I told him about the body and that I called the police and that he should cancel the inspection.”

“Then what did you do after you called the contractor?”

“I don’t really remember…the police showed up a couple of minutes later. Someone told me to wait in the car and that someone would be with me in a moment. I said I was feeling a little sick and someone got me a can of soda. And that’s that.”

Decker said, “Did you touch the body at all? Maybe feel for a pulse?”

Tinsley turned green. “I mighta. I don’t remember too well.”

“Did you get a good look at the face?”

“I just glanced at it…her. It didn’t even look human.”

“Did you recognize her as someone you know or have seen around the area?”

“Tell you the truth, I didn’t look that long.”

“Could you glance at the body another time, just to see if you can identify her?”

“I suppose so…”

Decker led him over to the corpse. Someone from the coroner’s office had given the go-ahead to cut her down. She laid her on a gurney with a sheet over her head. S.I.D. was printing her hands. Decker gently removed the blanket to expose the face. It was still red and puffy, but a bit less distorted.

The foreman stared at the face for a few seconds, and then averted his eyes. He appeared to be holding down his stomach. “I don’t know her at all.”

“Thank you for trying.” Decker guided him away from the scene, the two of them walking toward the cruiser.

Tinsley gave a sick smile. “At least I didn’t heave this time. When can I go?”

“We’re almost done,” Decker told him. “I’d like you to write down exactly what you told me, including that you don’t recognize the corpse.”

“Uh, sure. No problem.”

Decker handed him a tablet of yellow lined paper. “You can sit in the police car while you write. I’ll take the soda can if you’re through with it. Do you want another one?”

“Yeah, if you wouldn’t mind.” Tinsley handed the can to Decker.

“It’s not a problem. Could you also give me the contractor’s name and cell number?”

“His name is Keith Wald. I have to check my cell for the phone number because right now, I’m too shaken to remember it even though I’ve dialed it a thousand times.”

“I’ll check your cell for the number. As a matter of fact, would you mind if I looked your cell phone over? I’d like to get the exact times of the calls you made.”

“Sure.” Tinsley handed him the phone. “You can even look over any of the numbers I used. That’s what you want to do, right?”

“If you wouldn’t mind.”

“I guess it’s natural to suspect everyone. Most of my calls are business, but there are probably some to my friends. I’ll tell you what number belongs to who. Anything, as long as it takes my mind off of that.”

Tinsley pointed to the house, assumedly to the body in the house. A moment later, Decker espied a mustachioed, dark-haired man charging across the lot, escorted by Officer Mary Breckenridge. The man’s face was all seams, ruts, and pits, with a strong cleft chin and a head of dark thick curls. His eyes were hooded by a jutting brow and he was walking bowlegged. He stood around five eight and seemed to be in his late forties.

“That’s the contractor, Lieutenant.” Tinsley yelled and waved his arms. “Yo, Keith! Over here.”

“What the hell happened?” Wald broke into a jog. “What’s going on?”

Decker said, “Officer Breckenridge, why don’t you escort Mr. Tinsley into the cruiser so he can write down his statement.”

“Yes, sir.” Breckenridge gently nudged Tinsley forward. “This way, sir.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Wald said out loud. “I need to talk to this man.”

“You can talk to him after you talk to me.” Decker introduced himself.

Wald stuck out his hand. “Okay. Could you tell me what the hell is going on? Chuck said something about a body hanging from the rafters.”

“What else did he tell you?”

“That it was a woman. God, that’s horrible.” Wald checked his watch. “The city inspector is supposed to come in about an hour.”

“You’re going to have to cancel that,” Decker said. “No one is allowed on the premises until we’re done.”

“The homeowners are going to blow a gasket. We’re already a couple months behind. Not my fault. Homeowners keep changing their minds.”

“Could I get the names of the homeowners?” When Wald winced, Decker said, “They’re going to find out. It’ll be best if it comes from someone official.”

“Yeah, that’s true. Grossman—Nathan and Lydia. He’s a doctor, so I mostly work with her.”

“Do you have a phone number?”

“Yeah…hold on.” Wald checked his BlackBerry, his mustache twitching as he moved his upper lip. “Here it is.”

Decker copied the number on his notepad. “What can you tell me about them?”

“He’s around sixty, she’s younger…maybe forty. They have two teenage boys—fifteen and thirteen. I think he also has a son from another marriage. God, this is awful!”

The dead woman seemed older than her teens, so the boys didn’t pop out as primary suspects. Still, they needed to be looked at. “How old is the son from the first marriage?”

“I have no idea.” Wald blanched. “Why are you asking?”

“Routine questions. I’ll want to contact everyone associated with the spot,” Decker said. “Do you know his name?”

“No.”

“I’ll get it from the homeowners. Could you to come take a look at the body? See if she looks familiar to you?”

“Me?”

“We don’t have her identification yet. Maybe she’s someone in the neighborhood.”

“I don’t spend a lot of time checking out the ladies. When I’m here, I work.”

“If you’d just take a look at her, I’d appreciate it.”

“Oh God.” Wald heaved a sigh. “All right.”

“Thanks.” Decker walked him over to the crime scene and for the second time in ten minutes uncovered the sheet to reveal the face. She was still bloated and purple, but her features were recognizable as those of a young woman. He could now clearly make out the deep purple ligature mark that had cut into her neck at the Adam’s apple.

He could now say with confidence that the corpse wasn’t Terry McLaughlin.

One less thing to deal with…or more to deal with. Terry was still missing.

Wald gagged and slapped his hand over his mouth. “Never seen her before.” He turned tail and walked away.

Decker covered her face and caught up with Wald. “Thank you for helping.”

“Was that really necessary? Now I’m gonna have nightmares.”

“Did you call the inspector?” Decker said.

“Oh yeah, let me do that right now.” He punched some numbers into his BlackBerry. Five minutes later, he said, “Can’t get hold of the man. Shit!”

“Don’t worry about it,” Decker said. “We’ll take care of him. I’m going to need a list of all the people that have worked here. That shouldn’t be too difficult since you’re only at the framing stage.”

“I’ve had the same guys for three years. It isn’t one of them.”

“I’ll need that list anyway.” Decker looked around for another notepad and gave it to Wald. “Put down anyone associated with this project starting with the homeowners.”

“Anywhere I can sit down?”

Decker rounded up Officer Breckenridge. “Could you escort Mr. Wald to a cruiser so he can write down some information for me?” He heard Marge call his name, turned around, and walked over to her and the crime scene. “What’s up?”

“Lee Wang called. A nurse who works at St. Timothy’s—which is about six blocks away—seems to be missing.”

“Oh Lord. What’s her name?”

“Adrianna Blanc. According to her DMV license, she’s twenty-eight, blue eyes, brown hair, five six, a hundred and twenty-five pounds.”

“Married?”

“Single.”

“Who reported her missing?”

“Her mother. She went to her apartment to drop off some things this morning and her daughter wasn’t there. Her bed hadn’t been slept in.”

“Maybe she slept somewhere else.”

“Her mother has made some calls. Her boyfriend is away with his two best friends on vacation. Her other best girlfriends can’t get hold of her. Apparently, Adrianna finished up her shift at the hospital this morning, but no one has heard from her since. Her car is still in the parking lot of St. Tim’s.”

“That’s not good.” Decker rubbed his forehead. “Where’s Mom?”

“Her name is Kathy Blanc and she’s at the station house,” Marge told him.

“And Lee’s with her?”

“Lee made the call. Wanda Bontemps is with her now.”

“Tell Wanda to keep her there. I’ll come in and talk to her.”

“That’s already done,” Marge said. “I used a computer in one of the cruisers to bring up her DMV picture to see if we’re in the ballpark.” She handed him a slip of paper. “Kinda fuzzy, but it’s a possibility. We could bring Mom down for identification in person or we could take some of George’s snapshots to her.”

Decker stared at the DMV photo. A young woman with long hair was grinning full face into the camera. “Do we have any printed postmortem photographs?”

“Yeah, these are from George’s camera, printed from his laptop.”

Decker flipped through them and compared them with the DMV photo. If he squinted hard enough, he could see that the women were one and the same. “Close enough. I’m sending you and Oliver to St. Tim’s. I’ll bring the postmortem to Mom. It’s kinder than doing an in-person ID. Have you finished canvassing the area?”

“We’ve just started…gone through a couple of blocks when Lee called in.”

“Call in Drew Messing and Willy Brubeck and have them canvass the area for Oliver and you. They can direct a team of uniforms around the neighborhood. The first thing I want you and Oliver to do is to go to St. Tim’s parking lot with a crime team and work her car over. See if that directs us somewhere. What kind of a car is it?”

“A 2002 burgundy Honda Accord.” She gave him the plate number.

“While S.I.D. is working on the car, you go into the hospital and see if you can track Adrianna Blanc’s last movements before she disappeared.”

“Will do.”

“The contractor is writing down names and numbers of everyone associated with the project. The homeowners have two teenage boys together. If it is Adrianna Blanc, she would seem to be out of the boys’ age range, but we still need to know where they were last night. There’s also an older son by the father’s first marriage.”

“How old is he?”

“Don’t know a thing about him. Call up Wynona Pratt. Tell her to go through the list one by one.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Marge shrugged. “At least the body’s probably not Terry McLaughlin.”

Decker exhaled. “All that means is I have to deliver bad news to someone else.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

POSITIVELY THE WORST part of the job was bringing bad news to loved ones. It simply sucked. Kathy Blanc’s hands were shaking when Decker handed her the first picture and all it took was one look before she bolted from his office. Wanda Bontemps was there to direct her to the ladies’ room. Decker sat at his desk with his face in his hands, wondering just how long he could take this kind of stress. And if that weren’t enough, there was a fourteen-year-old boy with missing parents, living in his home.

Sometimes it isn’t even worth getting up in the morning.

Five minutes later, Wanda Bontemps led Kathy Blanc back into Decker’s office and seated her across from his desk. Kathy’s complexion had turned the color of eggshell; her eyes were red with black tears streaming down her cheeks courtesy of mascara. Red lipstick had run into the lines atop her mouth. Her body was enveloped with the shakes and she hugged herself in a weak attempt to stop her seizing. The woman’s coiffed blond hair framed a long, patrician face now smeared with makeup. She wore pearls in her ears and had on black knitted pants and a red knitted top. Black pumps on her feet.

Wanda Bontemps was at the doorway, her dark eyes looking pretty somber. “How about some water and a wet towel?”

Decker nodded and then faced Kathy Blanc’s imploring eyes. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Blanc. Is there anyone we can call for you?”

“My…hus…band.” She opened her purse, but Decker was quicker. He handed her a Kleenex. “Thank you.”

“Do you have a number, ma’am?”

“It’s area code 213–827…” Her face crumbled and Decker handed her another tissue. She managed to get out the next four digits. When Wanda returned, he handed her the number and told her to make the call. He gave the water to Kathy along with a damp white towel.

“Is there anyone else you want me to contact?” Decker asked her.

“I can’t even think.”

Decker nodded. “I want to let you know that we’ll do whatever needs to be done to find out what happened. We’ve got a lot of people working on this. Are you up to my asking you a few questions?”

“I don’t…” The tears started anew, but she nodded for Decker to go ahead.

“Was Adrianna having problems with anyone?”

Kathy shook her head no.

“How about a boyfriend? You told my detective that there was one.”

“Garth Hammerling.”

“Any problems with him?”

“Not that I know.”

“I don’t mean to sound intrusive, Mrs. Blanc, but did you and Adrianna have the type of relationship where she would talk to you about personal things?”

Kathy dabbed her smeary eyes with the towel. When she saw that her makeup was coming off, she whispered an “oh dear.” “Adrianna didn’t complain a lot.” She rubbed her face vigorously to get off all the streaked makeup. “But if something was wrong, I think she’d tell me.”

“What do you think about Garth?”

She continued wiping her face. “He seemed all right. I don’t think Adrianna was all that serious about him.”

“Where’d she meet him?”

“He’s a tech at St. Tim’s.” Kathy looked up. “Why are you asking questions about Garth?” Her eyes filled with moisture again. “Was she…violated?”

“I don’t know—”

“I don’t feel well.” She stood up. “I need to use the restroom.”

“Detective Bontemps will take you.”

“I know where it is.” She got up and left. Bontemps stepped into the office.

“Garth Hammerling was Adrianna’s boyfriend.” Decker wrote the name on a piece of paper and gave it to her. “Check him out…although I think Marge said something about his being out of town. Did you contact Mrs. Blanc’s husband?”

“Yes, I did. I didn’t tell him what was going on, but he knew it concerned Adrianna because Kathy had called him several times.”

“Where does he work?”

“Law offices of Rosehoff, Allens, Blanc, and Bellows. Mack Blanc is a senior partner. He’s on his way here from downtown L.A.”

“We should send a car to pick him up. He shouldn’t be driving.”

“Didn’t get a chance to tell him too much of anything. He hung up on me as soon as I told him his wife was here.”

“Give me the number. I’ll see if I can reach him. You go into the restroom and make sure that Mrs. Blanc is okay. Well, she’s not okay, but make sure she doesn’t need medical care. If she does need care, call an ambulance. Have them take her anywhere but St. Tim’s.”

“THE MOTHER MADE an ID with the pictures,” Decker told Marge over the phone. “That means the car is part of an official crime scene. Are the crime techs there yet?”

“Any moment now. Are you coming down?”

“I’m waiting to talk to Adrianna’s father. I’ll come down after that. Have you talked to anyone at St. Tim’s about Adrianna?”

“Oliver’s trying to get a time frame. It appears she completed her shift. That would mean she left the building around eight in the morning. Things go blank after that. We did find a nurse named Mandy Kowalski who knew Adrianna Blanc for six years. She’s on break in about a half hour and has agreed to speak with us. We’re trying to locate a good spot to talk. It looks like the cafeteria is winning the election.”

“Who else have you talked to at the hospital?”

“A little of this, a little of that. People are on shift and seem reluctant to talk.”

“The hospital isn’t cooperating with you?”

“The administration’s been all right. We’ll see what happens once they find out it’s murder. Oliver is getting a list of names of the security officers on duty. There are always a couple of guards roaming the parking lots.”

“What about video cameras?”

“We’re working on getting the tapes for all the entrances and exits. I don’t know if there’re video cameras in the parking lots, but I’ll find out.”

“Has the hospital had trouble with crime in the past?”

“I don’t know. We’ve still got a lot of searching to do. As soon as we get information, we’ll keep you in the loop.”

“As long as the loop ain’t a noose around the neck.”

“WE WENT TO nursing school together.”

Eyes on the tabletop, Mandy Kowalski was staring at bad coffee. Oliver knew it was bad because he was drinking the same swill.

A cute little thing, he thought, dressed in blue scrubs, with a pixie face, bright red hair, and hazel eyes. A dozen moons ago, he would have asked her out despite the forty-year age difference. But a lifetime of bad choices had finally made him realize that sometimes it was best to keep things on the professional level. He was currently dating a middle-school teacher named Carmen who was much too good for him. By the grace of God, she was able to deflect his neuroses and shenanigans with a knowing look and a laugh.