The fax machine was printing when I entered my office. Several sheets of the coroner’s report were already in the printer carriage. I sat down in my black leather chair, and then began reading the pages as they came out.
The killer was extremely efficient. No trace evidence, no footprints in the Malibu sand, no sperm, not even a pubic hair was found on the scene. That was encouraging because that was exactly what we had. Victims and no idea who committed the crimes. Therefore, it was a foregone conclusion that the FBI, the Malibu and the D.C. police departments were all looking for the same man.
I hit the power button on my computer and continued reading the report while the computer warmed up. My desktop was a picture of Wesley Snipes in his outfit as the vampire hunter: Blade. Snipes was wearing dark shades, sporting a tight fade with circular tattoos on his head. Soon, small icons materialized on my desktop. I clicked on the America Online icon and continued reading while it loaded.
The coroner believed that a woman named Heather Connelly was the first to die the night of July 29. I frowned. That was the night before we came home from Universal City. I shook that coincidence off and signed on to America Online. A few seconds letter, I heard the software say, “You’ve got mail!”
I clicked on the mail icon and saw the e-mail from Detective Thompson. I double-clicked on the mail he’d sent and it opened. Then I began downloading the photos onto my desktop so I could look at them without having to load the America Online software. As the photos downloaded, I continued reading.
I was thinking, blah, blah, blah, blah, as I read. I had already known everything the coroner had written. We had fresh stiffs of our own. But I continued reading anyway. Then I found myself smiling. The Malibu coroner concluded that either the killer was ambidextrous, or there were two killers at the Connelly mansion that night. One left-handed. The other right-handed. This was huge. I could hardly contain myself. We finally had something.
I had read the coroner’s report of the Perkins murders but the Lawford and Hoffman autopsies hadn’t been available. I hadn’t pushed for it since we knew they had been cut to pieces while they were still alive. Now I wanted to know if there was more than one killer in Washington. I was almost sure there was. But what was the motive?
The Malibu coroner found massive amounts of cocaine in Heather Connelly’s system. None in Paula Stevens. None in Sandra Rhodes. None in the men found at the bottom of the bluffs. Maybe it was about drugs. Maybe Heather Connelly was the ringleader in Malibu. Why not? Somebody had to be supplying the Hollywood crowd. Why not Heather Connelly? As far as I’m concerned, anything goes in Malibu, Beverly Hills, and Hollywood. It’s like Babylon out there.
“Files done!” the America Online software announced.
I put the report on my desk and opened the photos. Under the icon of the first picture were the words Connelly Mansion. I opened it. The grounds leading up to the mansion were pristine—the lawn manicured. I could see red, white, and yellow roses just outside the front door. The next icon read: garage. I opened it and saw a photo of a thirteen-car garage. All the doors were open and I saw expensive luxury cars. Small drops of oil were visible in a couple of empty spaces where cars must have been.
The next series of icons read autopsy photos, back, arms, legs, torso, head, breasts, and vagina, in that order. I took a deep breath and exhaled. For a second or two, I wasn’t going to open any of the pictures. What was the point? I asked myself. I had seen the bodies of Sarah Lawford and Taylor Hoffman. Why torture myself? Incentive. Coco Nimburu had said that to me. It worked then and it would work now. I double-clicked on the torso and closed my eyes slowly. Heather Connelly had been lashed viciously.
I heard my husband walking down the hallway. It sounded like he was headed for the kitchen. He was probably going to get some Dole pineapples out of the refrigerator. It was his habit to eat fruit, especially pineapples, when he woke up. I shut the computer down. Since he had arisen from the dead, I saw no reason not to take advantage of his sculptured physique. In other words, I was going to get some.