Killing Hope (Gabe Quinn Thriller) (10 page)

‘That’s a terrible title.’ He said when I was done. ‘Honestly, buddy, it sounds like a Miss Marple mystery. You need to ditch it.’

‘What would you suggest?’

‘The Undertaker.’

‘The Undertaker?’ I thought it over.

Snobbish psychologists and FBI Profilers believe that giving a serial killer a pet name will, in some way, validate their actions and elevate them above their normal station in life. I disagree. In my book, removing their human name keeps them where they belong: with the other monsters.

‘I guess it fits the bill.’ I agreed. ‘At least Katie will like it.’

23

^{___________________________}

I was in two minds whether to visit the Chief of Staff overseeing the USC or head back to the Station House. An afternoon of saccharine interviews had left me gagging. What could the CoS tell me that I didn’t already know?

Against ugly rush-hour traffic I headed back into the city. Called Jamie en route. Still no reply from the Feds. I was prickled by their lack of urgency.

‘What else?’

‘A few lukewarm flags on the mortician list.’ She said.

‘I’ll have Fred and Jan chase them up.’ I glanced at the clock on the dash. It was 5 p.m.. Technically-speaking, our shifts had ended an hour back. I told Jamie to finish up and go home. Get some rest; we’d both been up early this morning. Too early.

‘They could still call.’ She protested.

‘The Feds are on East Coast time.’ I countered. ‘They’ll all be tucked up in bed by now. Even if they have her name they won’t disclose it tonight. Go home, Jamie. Get some sleep. I need you fresh and awake first thing in the morning.’

It was dark by the time I got to the Station House. Street lights popping on. Brake lights glowing. Traffic thickening in the city’s arteries like congealing blood. I made my way to the holding cells. Instructed the duty sergeant to put Perry’s PA in an interview room and leave her there. I didn’t have anything on her. Didn’t have any reason to detain her any longer. But I needed her to talk. So I got a coffee. Sat at my desk. And did some digging.

Twenty minutes later I let myself into the interview room and sat down opposite Kimmi Hu. I had a lieutenant witnessing the proceedings through the one-way glass.

‘Made any new friends?’ I asked conversationally as I opened up a file of notes and leaned it against the table. ‘Some of those girls are real nice once you get to know them.’

‘How long is this going to take?’ She sounded bored. Like she had something better to do. Maybe make up more alibis for Milton Perry.

I put on reading glasses and shrugged.

Kimmi is in her late twenties. Of Asian-American descent. A slanted bob haircut and eyes like polished jet. She has one of those china doll faces you see on billboards advertising age-defying creams. Cute, but somehow cold.

 
‘You’ve been arrested for breaking and entering.’ I reminded her, glancing at notes.

‘You have no proof of that.’ She said. ‘Only your suspicions.’

‘As a matter of fact I have Perry’s word on it.’ I said. ‘He told me you were the one driving his Explorer at the time I saw it leaving the Samuels crime scene. I’m sure he’ll stick to that story – if it means he isn’t implicated in any wrongdoing.’

Kimmi’s face was hard to read. A tough cookie with porcelain edges. This girl would be lethal at poker, I decided.

‘Just because I was driving the car doesn’t mean I was actually inside the property.’ She said.

‘I heard you upstairs.’

‘You could have heard the wind pushing a branch against a window. Have you found my fingerprints? My DNA? Any little piece of evidence to suggest I was even there?’

I smiled. Despite her defensive attitude I liked Kimmi. She was young and ruthless and had no idea about life whatsoever. She was destined to learn the hard way. I felt sorry for her.

‘You’re not giving up on this, are you?’

‘I’m loyal.’

‘And that’s a fine quality to have. Loyalty should be rewarded. But it doesn’t stop you from being disposable.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘This is a murder investigation. It goes way beyond breaking and entering. Kimmi, you’re facing serious charges. Milton Perry will do everything in his power to distance himself from bad publicity. Including letting you take the fall.’

‘Never.’

‘You sure about that? This undying loyalty of yours works both ways?’

I saw her shore up her defenses. ‘You’re bluffing.’

‘Am I? Can you take that chance? We both know what your boss is capable of.’

I looked down at my notes. Sensed Kimmi lean forward in her chair.

‘You know I have nothing to do with Jeffrey’s murder.’ She said.

‘Do I? I know you were in his house. Tampering with a crime scene. And that might be enough to exclude reasonable doubt. We’re only at the beginning of gathering evidence here. There’s a long way to go before we file murder charges. Right now your boss is at the top of our suspect list. Which makes you an accomplice, Kimmi. Loyalty is an admirable quality. But are you willing to do jail time for Perry?’

I could see my words bouncing off her granite expression like Ping-Pong balls. Still no hint of a crack.

‘You’ve nothing to prove here.’ I said. ‘We’re only interested in getting to the truth. If your testimony excludes Perry from being involved in Samuels’ murder then why bite your tongue? You won’t have anything to worry about. We can drop the breaking and entering charge and all go home.’

‘I can’t tell you anything.’ She said.

‘Off the record.’

‘Even then.’

I made a face. ‘What kind of errand were you running?’

Kimmi Hu stared at me with her cool, black shark-like eyes. Folded her arms tighter across her chest. ‘I refuse to answer on the grounds I may incriminate myself.’

I sat back. ‘Okay. Have it your way.’ I referred to the notes. ‘Let’s see. It says here you attended Harvard Business School.’

‘Yes.’

‘Left with distinctions. Top of your class. You must be good.’

‘I am.’

I took off the readers. ‘Never been interested in business myself. You’ve got to be a certain type to succeed in that kind of world.’ I didn’t add the word
cutthroat
. Didn’t need to.

‘It doesn’t suit everyone.’

‘Dog eat dog.’

‘Yes.’

‘That why Perry hired you?’

‘Among other reasons.’

‘Does he have you running all his errands?’

‘I’m in his employ.’

‘Like a glorified gofer?’

‘Are we done here?’

‘Almost.’ I put the readers back on and glanced at the notes. ‘It also says here that you’ve been arrested before. Back in Boston. While you were at university.’ I pretended to read. ‘Now that’s very interesting. I’m sure you didn’t include this in your résumé.’

I looked up. Detected Kimmi’s stony expression waver ever so slightly. It was a tiny fracture. Barely discernible. But not so small I couldn’t lever it open and expose the truth.

I closed up the file and slapped it on the table.

24

^{___________________________}

The evening was underway. But I wasn’t done yet. I got in my car and circled north towards West Hollywood.

Among the professor’s personal possessions we’d found membership cards belonging to various clubs: a popular health and fitness gym, a winery up in Burbank, a disco club on Santa Monica Boulevard. That’s right: a disco club. I wasn’t interested in the gym or the winery. But the disco club was a different matter. It happened to be one of the raciest hangouts for homosexuals in LA.

The third fact about Professor Jeffrey Samuels was the one thing no one at the USC had even mentioned.

From the outside, the place looks like a bank. Not one of the busiest nightclubs on the LA gay scene. It looks like a bank. A smoked-glass cube-shaped bank. No frills – least not on the outside.

I rapped loudly on the tinted-glass door. Tried to peer into the gloom. Make out shapes. I saw movement. Heard something that sounded like a muffled
‘We open at eleven’
. A woman’s voice. I rapped harder. Louder. Faster. This time with the metal edge of my police shield.

I stepped back as the door sucked inwards. Caught a swirl of cooler air and the sound of distant drumbeats escaping onto the sidewalk.

‘Can’t you read? We open at eleven.’

She was tall. Rake thin, with shiny black hair down to a waspish waist. Skin as pale as a Scandinavian med student attending her first autopsy. Tight black clothing. And silver piercings in a Tim Burton face.

‘Eleven,’ she repeated, emphasized with a subtle glare.

She had intense turquoise eyes, I saw. Something like black razor wire tattooed on her upper arms. Black nail paint.

I held up my badge. ‘Detective Gabriel Quinn. LAPD. I need to ask you a few questions.’

‘What department?’

‘Robbery-Homicide.’

She thought about it for a second, then stepped aside and hurriedly waved me in. I wondered what her reaction might have been had I said
Narcotics
.

It was cool inside. I could hear dance music in the background. Turned low. Unmelodic modern. Not my scene.

The girl closed the door. Stood with small hands on small hips. ‘Look, if you’re here about Murphy, we fired him last week.’

‘I’m not here about Murphy.’

She looked confused. ‘Oh, okay.’