Gallery of the Dead

Sixty-Three

At exactly 8:25 a.m., Hunter stepped outside his room. As he did, Garcia rounded the corridor corner.

‘Wow,’ Garcia said. ‘How is this for perfect timing, huh?’

Hunter closed the door behind him.

‘I thought you’d be in the breakfast room already,’ he said.

‘In different circumstances, I would be,’ Garcia agreed. ‘But I really don’t feel like facing those two by myself this early in the morning. I’m not a masochist, you know?’

Hunter chuckled. ‘Yes, I guess I see your point. I don’t think Special Agent Fisher likes you very much, Carlos.’

‘Me?’ Garcia’s surprised face was almost sincere. ‘Rubbish. Everyone likes me. I’m charming, good-looking, smart, and loads of fun to be around. What’s there not to like?’ He lifted his arms up to about chest height, spread them wide and used both hands to point at himself. ‘Plus, I’m Brazilian. Everyone likes Brazilian people because we can samba.’

‘Can you samba?’

‘Can I hell. But that’s beside the point. You’re hungry, right?’

‘Starving,’ Hunter admitted. He didn’t even have to ask. Despite how skinny Garcia was, he was always hungry.

‘So,’ Garcia asked as they made their way down the corridor. ‘How big and colorful are these rooms? Did you see the size of that bathroom?’

‘Bigger than my apartment.’

Garcia laughed. ‘That wouldn’t be too hard, Robert. You live in a shoebox.’

‘I like where I live.’

‘Of course you do.’

Hunter and Garcia spotted Special Agents Fisher and Williams as soon as they entered the hotel’s restaurant breakfast room. The two agents were sitting at a table by the floor-to-ceiling window on the east wall. They both wore their standard, FBI-issued sunglasses and dark suits. Agent Fisher’s hair was loose and still wet from her morning shower.

Garcia held fast on a laugh. ‘Are they both wearing sunglasses... inside? They are, aren’t they?’

From the door, Hunter greeted them with a nod before making his way toward their table.

‘Do we really need to sit with them?’ Garcia whispered.

‘I thought you said everyone liked you,’ Hunter replied.

‘And they do,’ Garcia confirmed. ‘But that doesn’t mean that I have to like them back.’

‘Maybe you can samba your way into their hearts,’ Hunter said.

Garcia shook his head disapprovingly. ‘Robert, you’re brilliant at a lot of things, but making jokes on the spot isn’t one of them. You’d best leave them jokes to me.’

‘I thought that was a pretty good effort.’

Garcia wasn’t the only one who wasn’t in the mood for a reunion that early in the morning. As soon as Agent Fisher saw Hunter and Garcia at the entrance to the breakfast room, she leaned over toward her partner.

‘I told you we should’ve picked a table at the back,’ she murmured. ‘Hidden from everyone. Now we’re going to have to share ours.’

‘I thought you liked Detective Hunter,’ Agent Williams whispered back.

‘And I do. I’ve got absolutely nothing against Robert. It’s his partner who gets on my nerves.’

‘Oh, it’s Robert now, is it?’

She shrugged at him. ‘Whatever.’

Despite keeping their voices to a whisper and turning their heads a little sideways as they spoke, Hunter had no problems reading their lips.

‘Good morning,’ Hunter said, coming up to their table.

‘Morning,’ both agents replied in unison.

‘I thought you would’ve preferred a table at the back, hidden from everyone.’ Hunter couldn’t resist.

Both agents looked back at him, wondering.

‘In view of all the new developments,’ Agent Fisher announced even before Hunter and Garcia had taken the seats across the table from them, ‘Director Kennedy has authorized a press conference. Special Agent Brandon is organizing it as we speak. A very condensed press release will be sent to all the major news channels this afternoon. At the press conference, we’ll be answering a very select number of questions and that’s all. I will not allow it to turn into a media circus. The whole thing won’t take more than ten minutes, fifteen tops.’

‘Hi, welcome to the Lodge on the Desert hotel,’ a brunette waitress in her early twenties said, approaching their table as soon as Hunter and Garcia took their seats. The smile on her lips was fake, but still terribly welcoming. ‘What can I get you this morning?’

‘What’s the biggest breakfast you have?’ Garcia asked, returning the smile.

‘That would be the Lodge on the Desert Arizona full breakfast,’ the waitress replied. ‘It includes—’

‘It’s OK, darling.’ Garcia stopped her. ‘I’ll have it anyway. Whatever is in it, I’ll eat it. Just bring it over.’

‘How would you like your eggs done?’ the waitress asked.

‘Over easy, please,’ Garcia replied.

‘And your steak?’

Garcia did a double take. ‘There’s a steak?’ He sounded truly surprised.

‘Twelve ounces,’ the waitress confirmed, studying Garcia’s frame. ‘It’s a pretty large dish. Most people aren’t able to finish it all. If you prefer I can ask the chef to hold the steak, or you could go for a less substantial dish.’

‘Nope, steak is just fine. Bring it on.’ Garcia smiled. ‘As for finishing it all — challenge accepted. I’ll have my steak medium rare, please.’

Hunter decided to skip the cooked breakfast and stick with the choices on the buffet. Agent Fisher and Agent Williams followed his example. All four of them ordered black coffees.

‘The press release,’ Hunter said to Agent Fisher, once the waitress had moved away from their table. ‘What is it going to say?’

‘Not much,’ she replied with a headshake. ‘But so we don’t get a nasty surprise through a newspaper, I will have to mention everything that that goddamn freelance reporter knows. I won’t leave him any trump cards. He and his cold-reading party trick can go screw themselves. Because of him, I’ll have to mention the approximate timeframe of when the murders started, number of victims and so on, but I will not disclose any names. Not now. I also won’t mention anything about the carvings, the killer’s signatures, or his MO, and I will certainly not mention anything about the killer believing he’s making art out of his victims.’

As if on cue, Special Agent Brandon walked through the breakfast-room doors and approached their table.

‘Good morning, everyone,’ he said, taking a seat next to Agent Williams. He looked and sounded a lot more rested than everybody else at that table put together. ‘The press conference has been scheduled for today at nineteen hundred hours,’ he announced. ‘We’ll be using the conference room here at this hotel. It’s spacious enough.’

‘That’s fine,’ Agent Fisher said.

Agent Brandon turned to face Hunter.

‘And you were right about Mr. Davis’s neighbor — Mr. Christopher Pendleton — the person who was supposed to have made the 911 call. He didn’t. Nor was he supposed to be on vacation until the day after tomorrow. Mr. Pendleton runs his own law firm in downtown Tucson. He said that he only got home yesterday at around nine in the evening and was as surprised as anyone else to see all those police cars around his neighbor’s house. When I knocked on his door this morning, about an hour ago, he told me that that was the first time anybody had asked him anything.’

‘Does he live alone?’ Garcia asked. ‘Wife? Kids? Was anybody at home during the day yesterday?’

‘He’s divorced,’ Agent Brandon replied. ‘Two kids, both in college. The house is empty the whole day, most days.’

‘Was there any sign of a break-in?’ Garcia again.

‘None whatsoever. The house is also alarmed. There was no breach.’

‘Did Tucson PD confirm phone numbers after the 911 call?’ Agent Fisher asked, annoyance already back in her voice.

‘Apparently not,’ Agent Brandon confirmed.

‘So the killer made the 911 call,’ Agent Williams concluded.

‘That’s the most likely scenario,’ Agent Brandon agreed.

‘Why?’ Agent Fisher again. ‘Why would the killer first call that shitty reporter, get him to the house and then call 911? Where’s the sense in that?’

‘He did it because he wants the press conference to happen,’ Hunter said, his memory quickly connecting several facts.

‘What?’ Agent Fisher looked unsure, though she wasn’t the only one. ‘The killer wants the press conference to happen? I don’t follow.’

‘Well,’ Hunter began. ‘We all know that the killer was the one who called Owen Henderson back in Phoenix yesterday afternoon, right?’ He didn’t wait for a reply. ‘We’re now also pretty sure that the killer was the one who made the 911 call. He added the bullshit story about the neighbor coming back early from his holiday because it would give the call a lot more credibility, also giving us the impression that we had gotten lucky. Now think back to yesterday. Owen Henderson told us that he arrived at Mr. Davis’s house at 5:40 in the afternoon, give or take a minute.’ Hunter faced Agent Brandon. ‘You told us that the 911 call came in at exactly 5:42 p.m., isn’t that right?’

‘Yes, that’s correct,’ the agent confirmed.

Hunter’s gaze rounded the table and he shrugged.

‘Now, does anyone here think that was a coincidence?’