The Night Stalker

Eighty-Four

Los Angeles was a trendy nightclub Mecca full of see-and-be-seen clubs, which made the existence of a local bar like the Alibi Room a blessing. It dated back to the days of smoke-filled interiors and drunken games of pool. The place was really just one room with some vintage carpet, a line of locals bellied up to the bar, a single pool table with iffy geometrics and dead rails, a decent jukebox packed with rock albums and the best dive bar attraction of all time: cheap booze.

Whitney Myers spotted Xavier Nunez as soon as she walked through the door. He was sitting at one of the few low oak tables next to a window to the left of the bar. Two bottles of beer and a basket of corn tortillas were on the table in front of him.

Nunez was an odd-looking man. In his mid-thirties, he had a shaved head, long pointy face, large dark eyes, bowl ears, small crooked nose, pitted skin and lips so thin they looked like they’d been drawn using a marker pen. The slogan on his shirt read — Tell your tits to stop staring at me.

Nunez was another of Myers’ contacts, whom she paid very handsomely when she needed information. He worked for the Los Angeles County Department of Coroner.

‘Nice shirt,’ Myers said as she came to his table. ‘Get loads of girls when you wear it, do you?’

Nunez took a swig of his beer and looked up at her. Nunez was about to comment on her remark, but Myers smiled at him, and all he could do was melt in his seat.

‘So, what have you got for me?’

Nunez reached for the plastic folder on the seat next to him.

‘These were really hard to get.’ He spoke with a heavy Puerto Rican accent.

Myers had a seat across the table from him.

‘That’s why I pay you so well, Xavier.’ She reached for the folder but he pulled it away from her.

‘Yeah, but special circumstances cases are really, really hard to get, d’you know what I mean? Maybe I deserve a little extra for it.’

Myers paused and smiled again, but this time there was no warmth in it. ‘Don’t go there, honey. I can be very nice when you play the way the game should be played. You know that I pay you more than enough. But if you wanna play hardball, trust me. .’ she placed her hand on his and gave it a subtle but firm squeeze, ‘. . I can become a real bitch. The kinda bitch you and your homies don’t wanna fuck with. So are you sure you wanna roll like this?’

Something in her voice and her touch made Nunez’ mouth go dry.

‘Hey, I was just joking. I know you pay me enough. I was talking more like you know. . you and me. . dinner. . sometime. . maybe. .’

The warmth came back to her smile. ‘As attractive as you are, Xavier, I’m already taken,’ she lied.

He tilted his head from side to side. ‘I’d settle for meaningless sex.’

Myers finally took the folder from Xavier. ‘How about you settle for what we agreed?’ Her voice was menacing.

‘OK, that will do too.’

Myers flipped open the folder. The first photograph was of Kelly Jensen’s face. The stitches to her mouth hadn’t been removed yet. She stared at it for several seconds. Though she’d been told about it by Hunter, seeing the photographs brought a new dimension to the evil of the crime.

Myers moved to the next picture and froze. They were of the second set of stitches to Kelly Jensen’s body. Hunter had never told her about those. She had to take a deep breath before moving on. The next photo was a wide shot of Kelly Jensen’s entire body. Myers studied it carefully.

‘Where are the cuts?’ she whispered to herself, but it didn’t escape Xavier’s ears.

‘Cuts?’ he said. ‘There are none.’

‘I was told the killer used a knife to kill her.’

‘Apparently he did. But he didn’t cut her on the outside.’

Myers looked questioningly.

‘He inserted it into her.’

Myers’ whole body turned into gooseflesh.

‘And the knife is no knife I’ve ever seen. There’s a picture of it in there.’

Myers quickly leafed through all the photos until she found it.

‘Jesus Christ. . What in the name of God. .?’

They were dealing with a monster here. She had to find Katia. And fast.