Postcard killers

Chapter 110

William Hamilton,or Billy as his friends cal ed him, opened the door with his long, dirty blond hair standing on end and wearing nothing but a pink bath towel.

"What?" he said abruptly, blinking in the dim light from the stairwel.

"What now?"

"Police," Jacob Kanon said, holding up his badge, obscuring the NYPD.

"Can I come in? Of course I can."

"Shit," Bil y said, frowning, but letting the door swing open.

Jacob took that as a yes and stepped into the apartment.

It wasn't bad, the apartment. It was on Barrington Avenue, just a few miles from Westwood Vil age and the UCLA campus. It was at the top of the 146 building, with a large terrace overlooking the pool and a garden.

There was a fashionable kitchen/bar and an open gas fire.

"What the hel 's the matter this time? What do you people want now?"

Bil y sank into a white corner sofa facing the artificial fire. The towel slid open, revealing wel -muscled, suntanned thighs.

"Honey, who is it?" a woman's voice cal ed from one of the bedrooms.

"Mind your own business," he muttered under his breath.

"I'm here about Sylvia and Malcolm Rudolph," Jacob said, sitting down on the sofa without being asked. Bil y let out a low groan.

"What the fuck? I've already answered a load of dumb questions! When am I supposed to have found the time to slum around Europe? I stil don't have a passport. I've got a job here."

"Doing what?" Jacob asked, fighting an instinctive dislike of the guy on the sofa.

Bil y straightened his shoulders. "Actor," he said.

"Wow," Jacob said. "What have you been in?"

Bil y's shoulders sank a bit. He wiped his nose. "I'm a musician, too. And I'm working on a script for television."

Jacob tried to look impressed. He wasn't, not in the least. He thought that a baboon could probably write a script for television.

"You met Sylvia when you were studying performance drama at UCLA…"

Hamilton spread his arms.

"Okay, this is how it is: I tried to save Sylvia from her crazy brother.

Their relationship got seriously fucked up when Sandy disappeared. Malcolm was total y obsessed with her. You fol owing me, taking notes?"

Jacob interrupted him.

"Disappeared? Who disappeared? Sandra Schulman?"

Irritated, Bil y Hamilton got up and walked up and down in front of the fire.

"They were going up to the Mansion to get the last of their stuff, but I had an audition and couldn't go. They waited for her, but Sandy never showed up for the car trip. No one knows what happened to her. Mac took it real bad. We al did."

Jacob sat there without moving, trying to fit the information together in his head.

"Malcolm Rudolph and Sandra Schulman were a couple?"

"Wel, yeah. Ever since high school. She came from Montecito. They were neighbors."

"Darling, who are you talking to?" cal ed the woman in the bedroom. "I'm lying here waiting for you."

"Shut the fuck up!" Bil y shouted. "I'm busy!"

He sniffed and wiped his nose again. "I don't know what else to tel you, 147 dude."

Jacob took that as a signal to move on and started toward the door.

"Where was Sandra Schulman living when she disappeared?" he asked.

"Same place as Sylvia and Mac. Apartment on Wilshire and Veteran. Ask me, they might have been a threesome. Except that Sylvia was jealous of Sandy. Very… Hey, are you going? Already? What a shame."

"What was the number? The apartment on Wilshire?"

Hamilton looked scornful y at him.

"What do I look like, fucking Google?"