Chapter 45
Parker kept his head lowered as he greeted Morris at the door, his thick, ropy tail wagging cautiously. Morris thought Parker looked guilty, as if he were still ashamed that he had cozied up with Pavlo Lebed for a piece of roast lamb. Or maybe Morris was only imagining it. He decided not to bring up the sore subject and simply rubbed the bull terrier’s snout and got back a couple of relieved pig-like grunts in return.
He found Natalie at the kitchen table with an open bottle of prosecco in front of her. It looked like half the bottle was already gone.
“You’re getting drunk without me?” he asked.
She gave him a wistful smile and filled a glass for him. “I saw on the news about those four girls who were murdered,” she said. “They’re calling the killer the Malibu Butcher.”
Morris took the glass. “I didn’t know they gave him a name already,” he said, frowning. “We’ve been trying to keep the details hushed up.”
“They didn’t mention any specifics other than that the victims had been mutilated. They didn’t say how. They also didn’t mention that you or MBI were joining the investigation.”
Morris picked up the glass Natalie had poured for him and took a long sip. He needed it after the day he’d had. It tasted good. Refreshing.
“The killer is a piece of work,” he said. “He craves attention. Wants to think he’s important, so we’re going to keep a low profile.”
Natalie nodded. She finished the bubbly wine in her glass and poured herself more. The bottle was emptying fast.
“I called up about our trip,” she said. “If we cancel by midnight, we can still get half our money back.”
“We’re not cancelling. We’re going to Italy.”
She gave him a sad look, as if he were being hopelessly naïve. “How? Our flight is in four days.”
“We’re going to catch him before then,” Morris said. He sat down next to her and took hold of her hand. It was slender like Gloria Finston’s and almost as small, but it felt so different that his wife and the FBI profiler could’ve been different species. Instead of feeling like he was holding a smooth, cool piece of bone, Nat’s hand was warm and fit perfectly inside of his own. “The guy’s not nearly as smart as he thinks he is. He’s already made plenty of mistakes and has left a trail from Seattle to LA for us to follow.”
“You really think you can catch him by Thursday?” she asked, not convinced.
“I think so. If not, Charlie can take over. We’re flying to Rome Thursday no matter what. You have my word. We’ve waited too long for our belated honeymoon.”
He reached over and kissed her lips and when he tasted a saltiness, he realized that several tears had leaked from her eyes and had snaked down to her mouth. As he pulled back, he used his thumb to wipe away several more of her tears.
“I’m being ridiculous,” she said. “And selfish. Whether or not we go on vacation is so insignificant compared to stopping this maniac. It’s just that I’m worried—”
He hushed her. “Nat, we’re going,” he promised. “Why don’t we start packing? It might make you feel better.”
She laughed at that idea. “It’s too early for that.”
“I know you bought new luggage, and I know you’ve been hiding it in Rachel’s closet.” He opened his eyes wide in response to Natalie’s mock surprise. “I actually am a somewhat competent detective—at least some people think so,” he added. “I also know you’ve been buying new clothes for the trip, also hiding them in Rachel’s room. So let’s pack what we can.”
They put their wineglasses down, and he led Natalie upstairs with Parker tagging along close behind.
* * *
Late that night Morris’s cell phone woke him. His eyes couldn’t focus right away, and it took a moment before he could make out from the caller ID that Philip Stonehedge was calling. He almost let it go to voicemail, but he remembered that the actor lived only a mile away from where the girls were killed.
“I was with them last night,” Stonehedge said when Morris answered the call.
“What do you mean, you were with them?”
“Those four girls who were killed. I was with them.”
Morris snapped fully awake. He bolted up in bed and became conscious of Natalie’s soft breathing next to him. The call hadn’t woken her. He took the phone with him as he left the bedroom, using the glow of the cell phone to help navigate the darkened room. At the last moment his toe felt Parker’s form as the dog lay right outside the door, and Morris was able to step over him.
“Did you leave DNA in any of the girls?” Morris asked.
“Jesus, no, it wasn’t anything like that. They were only kids. I didn’t have an orgy with them. What kind of guy do you think I am?”
A somewhat spoiled actor living a privileged life. The girls were all twenty-two, not exactly kids. But Morris kept that thought to himself.
“What was it like?” Morris asked, his voice reflecting the cool informality of a man who’d been a homicide detective more than a third of his life.
“I was with Brie last night. We were having a quiet evening at home, barbecuing grouper and trying to replicate those fantastic fish tacos from my favorite Beverly Hills joint. Sometime around eight-thirty the buzzer rang from the gate, and it was these four giggling twentysomething girls. As a lark, I let them in. For a couple of hours I fed them fish tacos, made them a few drinks, and we talked about this and that. It was a nice evening. Very nice, actually. All four of them were just these goofy, sweet girls. I liked them. I didn’t realize they were the ones murdered until I saw their photos on the news a couple of minutes ago. It was a shock, Morris.”
“I can imagine. What time exactly did they leave your house?”
“Around eleven. Not much past then.”
“Do you have video surveillance for your gate area?”
“Yeah. Jesus. Do you think the killer followed them from my place?”
The thought had crossed Morris’s mind that the killer might’ve been planning to target the actor and had been watching Stonehedge’s house, but decided on different victims when he saw the girls leave. If you were a serial killer seeking notoriety, there was not much more of a bigger splash you could make than killing two of Hollywood’s biggest stars.
Morris said, “Possibly. I’ll have someone come by soon to pick up your surveillance video. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”
“Okay, sure.” There was a hesitation, then, “Something I missed that Brie picked up on was the blond girl named Courtney acted a little antsy. A few times, Brie caught her checking her watch, like maybe she had plans to meet someone. At least that was what Brie thought.”
Morris felt an iciness in his temples. Courtney Williams could’ve been the one who drew the killer to the house and not Mia. Did she invite the killer to the Malibu property?
“Is Brie with you?” Morris asked.
“Yeah.”
“Okay, both of you will need to give a full statement.”
“That’s what I was expecting. Why don’t you come by instead of sending one of your lackeys?”
Morris thought about it. “Yeah, okay. Can you have Brie there tomorrow morning at seven?”
“It can be arranged. Bring the little guy. I’ll make waffles, bacon, and scrambled eggs for all of us, and it will be the best bacon you’ve ever tasted. Maybe the best waffles too.”
“Best bacon, huh? Do you get it from celebrity hogs?”
“Not exactly. I get it from a little butcher shop in Venice where they do their magic. Don’t knock it ’til you try it.”
“I’ll reserve judgment. Parker’s the connoisseur between us. We’ll see what he has to say.”
Morris found himself fighting a yawn. He felt bone tired right then. Seeing what was done to Mia Dickerson and her friends had taken more out of him than he would’ve guessed. No question that this had become personal. He told Stonehedge that he’d pick up the surveillance video when he came over the next morning so he wouldn’t keep the actor waiting that night. After that, he ended the call. For now he needed to get some sleep.