The Death Sculptor

Eighty-Five

‘Have you seen this pile of shit?’ Captain Blake blurted as she stormed into Hunter and Garcia’s office, holding a copy of the morning’s edition of the LA Times.

Hunter, Garcia and Alice Beaumont had all read the article. In keeping with the best practices of shocking journalism, the LA Times went on to create its own pseudonym for the killer. It called him, fittingly enough, ‘the Sculptor’.

There were four pictures in total. One showed the building where Nathan Littlewood’s body was found. The other three were portrait photographs of each of the three victims. The article ended by saying that even after three ‘respectable members of the community’ (an attorney for the state of California, who had been diagnosed with terminal cancer; a police officer; and a psychologist) had become victims of the most terrifying killer the city of Los Angeles had seen in decades, the LAPD were still chasing their tails like silly dogs. They had no tangible leads.

‘Yes, we’ve seen it, Captain,’ Hunter replied.

‘Silly dogs?’ The captain threw the paper on Hunter’s desk. ‘Goddamnit. Did they hear a fucking word we told them in that press conference yesterday? This makes us look like incompetent clowns. And the worst of it all is that they are right. Three victims in two weeks and we don’t have shit, except shadow puppets.’ The captain turned and faced Alice. ‘And if you are right about the meaning behind the second sculpture, than that’s one more victim off his list. That means he’s only got one more to go.’ Using both hands she tucked her hair behind each ear as she drew a deep breath. ‘Any luck with linking this third victim to the previous two?’

‘No,’ Alice said, sounding a little defeated. ‘I found nothing that linked Nathan Littlewood to any police investigation. He never helped the LAPD with a case. He has never testified in court, nor has he ever been called for jury service. I’m working as fast as I can. Right now I’m trying to find out if he has ever acted as a counselor to any crime victims. I was thinking that maybe he’d helped a victim of a case in which either Nicholson or Nashorn were involved. If so, maybe that case might relate to Ken Sands in some way. But obtaining information on Littlewood’s old clients has proven a little harder than I’d anticipated. But just because we haven’t found it yet, doesn’t mean that Nathan Littlewood wasn’t in some way related to either Ken Sands’s or Alfredo Ortega’s case.’

‘That’s just fantastic,’ the captain shot back. ‘So if this new victim doesn’t tie in with the only theory you guys have managed to come up with so far – Ken Sands’s revenge – then we really have diddly-squat.’ Captain Blake turned to address Hunter. ‘Maybe it’s time that big brain of yours cooked up something new, Robert. I just had my ear chewed off by the Chief of Police and the mayor twenty minutes ago. They’re sick of this “Sculptor” killer terrifying the city and laughing at us. DA Bradley already considers this whole investigation a fiasco, and I won’t repeat what he’s been saying about the detectives running it. This article just did it for everyone. If we don’t come up with something solid in the next twenty-four hours, we’re off the case.’

‘What?’ Garcia practically jumped off his seat.

‘Look. Right now, we’re drowning in sewage. It’s been twelve days since the first murder, and though we’ve all been working nonstop, we have nothing solid. If we don’t come up with something concrete by tomorrow morning, the DA will be asking the FBI to take over. Our job will simply be to assist them.’

‘Assist them?’ Garcia said. ‘By doing what, wiping their asses for them? Making them coffee?’

Hunter had worked with the FBI on a case once before, several years ago, and he had hated the experience. He kept his mouth shut, but there was no way in hell he would babysit the Feds or hand them his investigation on a silver platter.

‘With the story making the news as it did, the Feds contacted the Chief of Police, the mayor, the DA, and myself, offering their assistance. They said, and I quote “Just remember we’re here in case you need us”. And out of that bunch, I’m the only one who thinks we don’t.’

‘That’s just a great big pile of bullshit, Captain.’

‘Find me something concrete or get used to it, because in twenty-four hours we are the ones who’ll be neck deep, shoveling that big pile of bullshit for the Feds.’