The Executioner

Fifty-Six

Downtown LA’s financial district is just south of Bunker Hill and north of South Park – this is where LA’s instantly recognizable skyline resides. The area concentrates around Fifth, Sixth, South Flower and Figueroa Streets and remains the southland’s most influential financial and business center. Tyler Financial Services had their office on the seventeenth floor of number 542 South Flower Street.

Dan Tyler sat in the elegant leather chair behind his mahogany desk. He was a kind-looking man in his forties. His brown hair, graying at the temples, was neatly combed back, and the strong lines that shaped his strangely attractive face indicated strength, experience, self-confidence and a degree of suffering. He wore an elegant dark suit and a pale blue shirt complemented by a gray striped tie. His dark brown eyes sat behind thin-rimmed glasses. His office bore the trappings of his profession – expensive-looking furniture, an impressive bar at the corner, several framed photographs on the walls and three interlinked computer monitors on his desk that were constantly displaying the stock market flow. His secretary announced the arrival of the two detectives, and he stood up to greet them by the door.

Dan Tyler showed them inside, indicating the two armchairs in front of his desk and offering both detectives a drink – they declined.

‘I know this is an awkward situation, Mr. Tyler,’ Hunter began. ‘We’ll try to get through it as fast as we can.’

‘Call me Dan, please,’ Tyler said, taking his seat behind his desk. His voice was serene and pleasant, like a storyteller’s.

Hunter quickly explained that it would still be a few days before the house in Malibu was released by forensics.

Tyler nodded. He knew that putting the house back on the market now wasn’t a clever idea.

‘The house didn’t look like an investment property,’ Hunter said. ‘Did you used to live there?’

‘Yes. For many years.’

Hunter noticed a distinct tone in Tyler’s voice and allowed a few silent seconds to go by before nodding towards a silver-framed photograph on Tyler’s desk. An attractive woman with windswept hair and an infectious smile standing by a swimming pool. A beautiful black dog was asleep by her feet. ‘Was that taken at the house?’ he asked, recognizing the pool.

Tyler looked at the photograph. ‘Yes,’ he said with a mixture of pride and sadness.

Hunter intuited the woman in the picture was the source of the sadness. ‘Is that your wife?’

Tyler looked back at him. ‘Kate. Yes.’ A pause. ‘She passed away.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Hunter said and sensed that Tyler’s emotional wound was still raw. ‘Recently?’

‘Twelve months ago.’ He pressed his lips together. ‘It feels recent to me.’

‘I understand.’

Tyler took a deep breath. ‘A lot of people say that, but surviving the woman you love-’ he gave Hunter a quick head shake ‘-I guess it’s something you have to live through to really understand. We were married twenty years.’ Tyler’s eyes were back on the picture.

‘And the house in Malibu was your home?’ Hunter asked.

‘It was her pride and joy,’ Tyler said, nodding. ‘We built it from scratch. Kate was involved in every aspect of the architectural design. It was her dream house. She chose every piece of furniture, every curtain, every color, every detail. Kate’s in every inch of that house.’ Tyler paused and looked down at his clasped hands. ‘After she was gone, I just couldn’t live there anymore. I tried for a while but…’ His eyes drifted away. ‘Without realizing, I used to find myself talking to the walls, curtains, pictures…’ He smiled. ‘I don’t need the house or anything else to remind me of what Kate and I had.’

‘No children?’ Hunter asked, already guessing the answer, judging by the lack of any other family pictures in the office.

‘Unfortunately, no.’ A different sorrow coated Tyler’s words, and Hunter understood that having no children hadn’t been his choice. He allowed the awkward moment to subside before proceeding.

‘Did you know Amanda Reilly?’

‘We met a couple of times when I approached her company to handle the sale of the house,’ Tyler replied, glad to change the subject.

‘How long ago was that?’

Tyler tilted his head to one side and scratched his temple. ‘About eight months ago, when the house first went up for sale.’

‘Not since?’

‘There was no need. Her company was recommended to me. One of my clients had his house sold through Reilly’s. I didn’t wanna have anything to do with it. I wanted someone who could handle everything. She came across as a very genuine and trustworthy person, and her track record spoke for itself.’ Something changed on his computer screen and Tyler glared at it for a second. ‘We talked on the phone a few times. She’d call me every now and then to update me on any viewings.’

‘Did she call you last week about a viewing this past Saturday?’ Hunter asked, checking his black notebook.

Tyler nodded. ‘She called me on Friday.’ He pulled himself closer to his desk. ‘She sounded really excited. More excited than she did about any of the previous viewings. She said that the prospective buyer-’ Tyler reached for a stylish leather-bound diary on his desk and flipped back a few pages ‘-someone called Ryan Turner, was really eager to see the house.’ He paused and slowly lifted his eyes from the diary. ‘She said she had a good feeling about this guy.’