A Cold Heart

46

At 9 P.M., as I left to pick up Allison at her office, the phone rang. I decided to let the service pick up but as I drove, my cell phone beeped.

Milo said, “I’m on my way to Pasadena, got a panic call from Kipper’s girlfriend, Stephanie Cranner. Kipper knocked her around pretty badly, then took some pills. I 911’d Pasadena PD, but I wanna go over there, myself. She seemed like a nice kid… here we go, good, freeway’s nice and clear. Here’s the latest on the main stuff: my baby Ds came through. I had them go over every single name on the Levitch invitation list, call each invitee, make sure they were actually there. Turns out one couple- old folks from San Gabriel- couldn’t make it and gave their tickets away. Guess what? They’re on the board of Charter College and pals of Mr. and Mrs. William Trueblood.”

“Shull got the tickets. Who’d he go with?”

“No one, only one ticket was used. It’s not proof positive Shull was actually there, he could always claim he gave the ticket away, too. But it was enough- along with my assurances that we’re highly likely to pull a DNA match to the hairs on Mehrabian to nudge Judge Foreman into granting me a limited warrant for Shull’s house. After I’m through in Pasadena, I’m driving out to Foreman’s house. After that, we converge on Faithful Scrivener. Foreman lives out in Porter Ranch, so I’m figuring at least three, four hours before everything’s in place.”

“Where’s Shull, now?”

“Last time I talked to Petra he was still home, but that was hours ago. The plan’s for an early-morning surprise, say 2 A.M. If he night crawls, Stahl and Petra tail and we take the house. If he’s home, we all party.”

“How limited is the warrant?”

“I’ve requested permission to confiscate all written materials as well as personal belongings of victims, low E guitar strings, and weapons. Reason I’m calling is I want to know if you’ve got any other suggestions before I complete the application.”

“Audio- and videotapes,” I said. “Sketch pads, drawings, paintings. Any medium in which Shull might express himself.”

“You’re saying he re-creates the killings.”

“There’s a good chance he does.”

“Okay,” he said. “Thanks… this is good, I’m up for it. Time to give him a bad review.”

As I neared Montana Street, the cell beeped again. This time I ignored it.

Thinking what a beautiful night it was. Wondering what Allison would be wearing.