The Crucifix Killer

Thirty-Eight

It was another hot day in Los Angeles with the temperature getting up to 90 degrees. The streets were full of life with people walking their dogs, strolling, jogging or simply hanging out.

Hunter left Isabella’s apartment around lunchtime, after finally having some breakfast. She was still a little shaken up, but she’d assured him she’d be fine.

‘Jesus, if that’s our guy, she could’ve been a victim,’ Garcia commented after Hunter told him the news.

‘I know and I’ll get the police artist to her apartment this afternoon, right after we’re done talking to this Peterson character from Tale & Josh. By the way, did you get his address?’ Hunter asked.

‘Yep, Via Linda Street in Malibu,’ Garcia replied, checking a note he’d stuck to his computer monitor.

‘Malibu huh?’ Hunter cocked both eyebrows.

Garcia nodded. ‘I guess some lawyers do live the high life.’

‘I guess they do. How about one of D-King’s girls? Any news on that?’

Since his conversation with D-King on Friday, Hunter had worked hard to convince Captain Bolter to have him under twenty-four-hour surveillance.

‘Yes, our tail followed one of them home after the club last night,’ Garcia said, pulling a piece of paper out of his pocket.

‘Great, we can drop in on her right after Peterson. Let’s go, you drive.’

Malibu is a twenty-seven-mile strip of spectacular coastline northwest of Los Angeles. It’s a retreat for people like Barbra Streisand, Tom Hanks, Dustin Hoffman, Pierce Brosnan and scores of other rich and famous Hollywood stars.

Most of the long drive to Peterson’s house was made in silence. Hunter’s thoughts were divided between the amazing night he’d had with Isabella and the astonishing breakthrough she might’ve brought into the investigation. Had she really stood face to face with the killer? If so, was he wearing no disguise? Had she scared him off by noticing the tattoos on his wrists? Hunter knew this killer never left anything to chance, but there was a minute possibility that his meeting with Isabella had been accidental. Hunter felt his luck was changing.

‘This is his road,’ Garcia said as he turned into Via Linda Street.

‘Number four, that’s his house right over there,’ Hunter said, pointing to a pale-blue-fronted house with three cars parked on the driveway, one of them a brand-new-looking Chevy Explorer van.

By Malibu standards Peterson’s house wasn’t anything spectacular, but by Hunter and Garcia’s standards it was simply huge. The house itself was a three-story modern development and the generous lawn in front of it had been mowed to perfection. A curved cobblestone walkway led from the street to the enormous front door, its landing decorated by beautifully arranged flowers producing a riot of color. Whoever took care of this house was a perfectionist.

Hunter loved the element of surprise. Forewarning gave people the chance to prepare their lies, get them organized in their heads. If he could get away with it, he preferred not to make interview appointments, just show up. A homicide cop with a bag full of questions tended to make the regular citizen nervous.

On the front door they found a brass lion’s head with a knocker coming out of its mouth.

‘Eccentric,’ Garcia commented and knocked three times. ‘I bet they have a swimming pool in their backyard.’

‘This is Malibu, rookie, all the houses around here come with a swimming pool, whether you want it or not.’

A few seconds later the door opened to reveal a fair-haired, brown-eyed little girl no older than ten. Not who they were expecting.

‘Hi there, is your daddy home?’ Garcia said with a broad smile and bending over to draw level with the little girl.

She took a step back and studied the two men in front of her for a short moment. ‘May I ask who I should announce?’

Garcia was taken aback by the little girl’s eloquence. ‘Of course you may,’ he replied trying to match her pompousness. ‘I’m Detective Garcia and this is Detective Hunter,’ he said, pointing to Hunter.

‘May I see some identification please?’ she asked with a skeptical look.

Garcia couldn’t help laughing. ‘Sure.’ Both detectives produced their badges and watched in amusement as the little girl checked their credentials.

‘Is there some sort of problem, detective?’

‘No. But we do need to speak to your daddy if you don’t mind.’

‘I’m not to call my father “daddy.” “Daddy” is for little kids. Please wait here,’ she said dryly and closed the door on them.

‘What just happened?’ Garcia asked turning to face Hunter who shrugged. ‘She’s what? Around ten years old? Can you imagine what she’ll be like when she’s fifty?’

‘It’s not her fault,’ Hunter said with a head tilt. ‘Her parents probably force her to behave like an older child, not allowing her to come out and play, not allowing her to have many friends, pushing her to become an exemplary student. Without knowing they are doing more harm than good.’

They heard heavier footsteps approaching. An adult finally. The door opened and this time the same tall, skinny man they’d talked to at Tale & Josh stood in front of them.

‘Mr Peterson, we talked on Friday. Detectives Garcia and Hunter,’ Garcia said first.

‘Yes, of course I remember. What’s this about, gentlemen? I’ve told you everything I know.’

‘It’s just a follow-up call, sir,’ Hunter this time. ‘We just wanna tie up some loose ends.’

‘And you wanna do this in my home?’ Peterson asked in an irritated tone.

‘If we could have only ten minutes of your time…’

‘It’s Sunday, gentlemen,’ he cut in. ‘I like to spend Sundays with my family… uninterrupted. If you wanna tie anything up, my secretary would gladly arrange an appointment. Now if you’d excuse me.’ He started to close the door but Hunter pushed his foot forward stopping it.

‘Mr Peterson,’ Hunter said before Peterson had a chance to voice his discontentment. ‘Your colleague, your friend, was murdered by a total maniac who respects nothing. That wasn’t a vengeance killing, and it sure as hell wasn’t a chance one either. We’re not sure who will be next, but what we do know is if we don’t stop him, there will be another victim.’ Hunter paused, staring Peterson straight in the eye. ‘I’d love to have Sunday off, to spend it with my family and I’m sure so would Detective Garcia.’

Garcia raised an eyebrow at Hunter.

‘But we’re trying to save lives. Ten minutes, that’s all we ask.’

Peterson compressed his lips still looking annoyed. ‘OK, let’s talk out there, not in here.’ He made a head movement towards the road where Garcia’s car was parked. ‘Honey, I’ll be back in ten minutes,’ he called to the inside of the house before closing the door behind him.

As they reached Garcia’s car Hunter stole a peek back at the house. The little girl was looking down at them from a window on the second floor with sad eyes.

‘Great kid you’ve got there,’ Hunter commented.

‘Yes, she’s adorable,’ Peterson replied uninterested.

‘It’s a beautiful day. Doesn’t she like playing by the pool?’

‘She has schoolwork to do,’ he said firmly.

Hunter moved on. ‘Is that a new Chevy van?’ He pointed to the car.

‘I’ve had it for a couple of months.’

‘What kind of mileage do you get per gallon?’

‘Detective, you’re not here to talk about my daughter or my new van, so how about you cut to the chase.’

Hunter nodded. ‘We need to find out a little more about George’s Tuesday nights. We know he wasn’t playing poker. If you have any information, we need to know.’

Peterson retrieved a cigarette from a pack in his pocket and placed it on his lips letting it hang loosely. ‘Do you mind?’ he asked, lighting it up.

Hunter and Garcia both shrugged at the same time.

‘George was a quiet person, kept himself to himself,’ he said, taking a long drag.

‘Anything out of the ordinary?’

‘Well…’ Peterson paused.

‘Yes?’ Hunter pressed.

‘He might’ve been having an affair.’

Hunter studied Peterson for a few silent seconds. ‘With someone in the office?’

‘No, no. Definitely not.’

‘How can you be so sure?’

‘We have no women lawyers in the firm. All the secretaries and assistants are senior women.’

‘So? A lot of men like older women,’ Garcia offered.

‘Still too risky, it could’ve cost him his job. George wasn’t stupid,’ Peterson replied, shaking his head.

‘So why do you say you think he was having an affair?’ Hunter asked.

‘By chance I’ve overheard him on the phone a few times.’ Peterson made sure he emphasized the words ‘by chance.’

‘And what did you hear?’

‘Lover’s talk – “I miss you and I’ll see you tonight.” That kinda thing.’

‘He could’ve been speaking to his wife,’ Garcia suggested.

‘I doubt it,’ Peterson shot back, twisting his mouth to the left and blowing a thin cloud of smoke.

‘Why do you doubt it?’ Hunter asked.

‘I’ve heard him speaking to his wife before. He didn’t talk to her like that, you know, all sweet and all, like newlyweds do. It was somebody else, I’m sure of it.’ He paused for another drag. ‘Most of the secret calls came on Tuesdays.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes I am. So when you guys came around the firm asking about George’s Tuesday-night poker game, I figured it must’ve been some sort of lie he’d told his wife. I didn’t wanna be the one to rat him out, so I kept my mouth shut. His wife already has a lot on her plate as it is… poor woman.’

‘Have you ever met her?’

‘Yes, once. She’s a very nice woman… pleasant. I’m a family man, Detective, I also believe in God and I don’t approve of cheating, but George didn’t deserve what he got. Even if he was cheating on his marriage.’

‘How about gambling? Did you know he used to gamble?’

‘No!’ Peterson replied surprised.

‘Have you ever heard him say anything about going to dog races, greyhounds?’

Another shake of the head.

‘Internet gambling?’

‘If he was gambling he would’ve kept it really quiet from everyone in the office. The senior partners wouldn’t approve of it.’

‘How about friends from outside the firm? He must’ve known other people. Have you ever met any of them, you know, at a party or something?’

‘No, I can’t say I have. His wife was the only person he’s ever taken to any of the firm’s social engagements.’

‘How about his clients?’

‘As far as I know, strictly professional relationships. He didn’t mingle.’

Hunter started to feel like he was trying to force blood out of a stone.

‘Is there anything else you can tell us about him, anything peculiar you’ve noticed?’

‘Other than the sweet-talk phone calls… no. As I’ve said, he was a quiet man, kept himself to himself.’

‘Was there anyone else in the firm who was closer to him, like a buddy?’

‘Not that I know of. George never hung around. He never came out for a drink with any of us. He did what he needed to do in the office and that was that.’

‘Did he stay late?’

‘We all do when the case demands it, but not for fun.’

‘So the only reason why you believe he was having an affair is because you, by chance, overheard him sweet-talking on the phone?’

Peterson nodded and blew another thin cloud of smoke to his right.

Hunter scratched his chin wondering if there was any point in continuing the interview. ‘Thanks for your help. If you can think of anything else, please let us know.’ He handed him a card.

Peterson took one last drag of his cigarette and dropped it onto the floor. He nodded to both detectives and started walking back up to his house.

‘Mr Peterson,’ Hunter called.

‘Yes,’ he replied with irritation.

‘It’s a really nice day. Why don’t you spend a few hours outside with your daughter? Maybe play a few games. Take her out for some ice cream or donuts. Just enjoy the day together.’

The little girl was still staring at them from the second-floor window.

‘I told you, she’s got schoolwork to do.’

‘It’s Sunday. Don’t you think she deserves a break?’

‘Are you trying to tell me how to raise my daughter, Detective?’

‘Not at all. Just a suggestion so you don’t lose her. So she doesn’t grow up hating her parents like so many nowadays.’ Hunter waved goodbye at the little girl who replied with a bashful smile. ‘As you’ve said, she’s adorable.’ He turned his attention to Peterson once again. ‘Don’t take that for granted.’