Private: #1 Suspect

CHAPTER 26

“Party girl at two o’clock,” Cruz said to Del Rio. They were parked illegally on Charles E. Young Drive, right outside the UCLA Geffen School of Medicine.

“You go first,” Del Rio said. “I’ll bring up the rear.”

The escort’s name was Jillian Delaney and she was between classes, coming up a path between the brick buildings and geometric-shaped greens of the campus.

Cruz walked up to the pretty young woman, brunette, slim, walking by herself, books in her arms, knapsack on her back. He showed her his badge and the girl backed up a couple steps, looked around for a way out, but by then Del Rio was behind her, his badge in his hand.

“What’s this about?” she asked.

“Last night. Room 502 at the Beverly Hills Sun,” said Cruz.

“Oh, my God, ” she said.

Talk about a deer in the headlights. But, Del Rio thought, here again was where playacting got tricky. You couldn’t say to the girl, “Get into the squad car. Let’s discuss this downtown.” Just had to bluff and hope for the best.

He and Cruz walked Jillian Delaney toward a bench, and Cruz introduced them as “investigators.” They all sat down.

The girl was petite without the five-inch heels and looked much smaller sitting between them than she had on the surveillance tape. She weighed maybe a hundred and ten pounds with her clothes and shoes on.

Cruz said, “Let me hold your books, okay, Jillian?”

The girl looked at him. “Are you arresting me?” When Cruz didn’t answer, she handed them over.

Del Rio said, “Please hold out your hands.”

Jillian did as instructed, and Del Rio checked out her perfect nails, pale pink polish, no chips, no breaks. She turned her hands over, palms up.

There were no cuts or bruises on her baby-soft hands.

Even if she’d been wearing gloves, there should have been some physical signs from strangling a man to death with a wire.

“What classes are you taking?” Cruz asked.

“I’m studying emergency medicine,” said Delaney. She folded her arms and furrowed her brow as she looked at Del Rio.

“What were you doing at the Sun?” Cruz asked. “Don’t bother to lie, Jillian. We have a record of the phone calls from the john to Phi Beta. And we have you on time-dated surveillance tape. So how about it? Tell us about your date last night.”