Mary, Mary

Chapter 62

I FOLLOWED KARL PAGE'S DIRECTIONS toward the Ramada in West Hollywood and deliberately left my phone in the car when I got there. I didn't want to be reached by anybody at the Bureau right now, not even Director Burns's office.

The stark Art Deco lobby was quiet and depressing. Dreary dried-up palms loomed over rows of boxy chocolate- brown couches, all of them empty Two elderly women at the front desk were the only customers in sight.

'Whoever was in charge here -Jeanne Galletta, I hoped - had gotten a good cap on the scene. The only indication that a major investigation was under way one story up was the two officers stationed at the elevator. I took the stairs to the murder scene, two at a time.

The second-floor hallway was thick with LAPD personnel. Several of them wore gloves, white booties, and “Crime Scene Unit” poio shirts. The faces were all stressed and drawn.

A uniformed officer gave me the once-over. “Who are you?” he asked. His tag said Sandhausen. I flashed him my creds without comment and kept moving past him. “Hey!”

he called out.

“Hey yourself,” I called back, and kept going.

When I got to room 223, the door was wide open.

A row of cartoonish stickers, Mary Smith's calling card, was affixed to the outside - two glittery-winged fairies and another unicorn, which was stuck right over the peephole.

Two stickers were marked with an A, the other with a B.

A maid's cart stood parked off to the side.

“Is Jeanne Galletta around?” I asked another young officer as she pushed past me into the hall. The sheer number of people coming and going here was disconcerting.

The female officer gave me a petulant look. “I think she's downstairs in the office. I don't know”

“Find out,” I said, suddenly losing my patience. “Let her know Alex Cross is looking for her. I'll be in here.”

I steeled myself before I stepped inside the hotel room. There's a necessary detachment at any murder scene, and I can feel it like a second skin that I put on. But there's a necessary balance, too. I never wanted to forget that this was about human beings, not just bodies, not just vics. If I ever got immune to that, I'd know it was time to look for another career. Maybe it was time anyway What I found was a scene just as predictably brutal as I had come to expect from Mary Smith.

Plus a couple of nasty surprises that I wasn't prepared for.