Hollywood Notorious: A Hollywood Alphabet Thriller Series (A Hollywood Alphabet Series Thriller Book 14) (16 page)

“The body should be…” Leo slowed down and pointed toward the brush-covered hillside above Hollywood. “There, you can see the fire at the top of the ridge.”

Leo had picked me up about ten minutes after his phone call. We heard sirens in the distance, probably the fire department responding to the scene, as we parked on the side of the road behind a couple of marked patrol cars. I got Bernie out of the back seat and we began making our way through the heavy cover of brush.

As we got closer to the fire, I understood why the responding officers thought the crime might be connected to what happened to Sylvia Lacroix. The crime scene was just a few miles from Park Hills Cemetery. A body had been trussed up on a raised wooden platform and set on fire. An oil lamp was on the ground nearby, along with a photograph of a beautiful young girl.

As I examined the photo, I said to Leo, “She looks like she was about the same age as our first victim. Her physical characteristics are also similar.”

He looked over my shoulder at the photograph, then at the fire. “Are you thinking what I am?”

My eyes now held on the burning body. It looked like it had been draped in a white cloth before being set ablaze, with most of the cloth now gone. The victim’s arms and legs appeared to have been tied with wire.

I glanced at Leo, giving voice to the horror of what we both thought had happened. “I think she was burned alive.”

Darby and Buck arrived at the scene as we were doing a cursory examination of the area around the burning body. After examining the scene, Darby displayed his usual insensitivity, turning up his nose and telling us, “It smells like a bad barbecue. After this, picnics will never be the same for me.”

I looked at Buck and did an eye roll, but decided I was too exhausted to get into an argument with his partner.

The fire department arrived a few minutes later and managed to put out the fire and the nearby brush that had been set ablaze. When they were finished, there were only charred remains for Brie and the SID staff to examine. My friend spent an hour with the body and then came over to us with her preliminary findings.

“This looks to me like a re-creation of a traditional funeral pyre that you might see in India and a few other countries. The process is called Sutee.”

I met Brie’s eyes, trying to find words to express what we had feared. “The victim, was she…”

Brie nodded. “Yes, I believe she was alive when the fire started.”

“How can you be sure of that?” Darby asked, listening in on our conversation.

Brie stared at him. “I can’t be sure of anything until I get her on the table. But, superficially, it appears there are soot particles in what’s left of the nasal passages, an indication that she breathed in the particulate matter associated with the fire. I’ll know more when we get carboxyhemoglobin levels.”

Darby gave her a blank look.

“It’s a complex of carbon monoxide and hemoglobin that forms in red blood cells upon contact with carbon monoxide. CO hinders the body’s ability to deliver oxygen.”

Darby wandered away, mumbling something about scientific mumbo jumbo. Buck then came over to us and said, “Looks like the press is here.” He motioned to the highway below the hillside.

I saw there were a couple of satellite vans pulling over behind our cars. I had no desire to deal with the press and said to Leo, “Let’s go see what SID has to say.”

We went over and met with Cathy Maitland, the supervisor working the team of forensic technicians. I was grateful for not having to deal with Bob Woodley again as I asked her about their findings.

Maitland was in her late forties, plain, and soft spoken. “We’ve got some shoeprints in the area around where the body was burned. They appear to be from two different subjects.”

“Two subjects?” I asked, thinking about what Mo had said last night about there being two killers at work.

She confirmed her finding, then said, “We’re making plastic casts. It looks like an accelerant was used to start the fire, some kind of oil or gasoline that was in the lamp.” She then held out a small red flag that had interwoven rectangular squares on it. “This was found on the ground near the body, along with several others that were different colors. Not sure about the significance.”

I looked at Leo, raising my brows. He shrugged. “Doesn’t mean anything to me.”

“Anything else?’ I asked Maitland.

She showed us a plastic baggie with a beaded necklace. “This was also found on the ground, along with some flowers and fruit. It might be some kind of offering used in religious ceremonies, like with our other victim.”

“What about prints?” Leo asked.

“Nothing…

A man’s voice called out, interrupting her. “Detectives.”

We turned and saw that a rotund little man was being held back from the scene by a uniformed officer.

“Carmine Feckle,” I said to Leo with a sigh.

“Your crime is already on the Internet,” Feckle called out to us.

“We’d better go see what he has to say,” Leo said.

We went over to him and I said, “Tell us what you know about what happened here.”

He pulled his phone out of his pocket. “It looks like it was some kind of ritualistic murder, just like with the other girl.” He showed us the screen. “It’s on that Crime Scene LA website.”

He played the video and we watched the horrifying images of a girl who was draped in a white cloth being set on fire. The video only lasted about thirty seconds, but the heartbreaking images and sound of her death screams seemed to linger long after the reporter had put his phone away.

“What can you tell me about your preliminary findings?” Feckle asked.

I took a breath and released it slowly. “At this point, you probably know as much, if not more, than we do. I’m sure the chief will have some additional comments at this morning’s news conference.”

***

The news conference was held at ten that morning at the Police Administration Building in downtown Los Angeles. The sensational images from the Internet had created a media frenzy, with reporters from all over the country packing the room. Along with Carmine Feckle, I saw that Shelia Woods was in attendance. Woods was in her twenties, extremely attractive, and a bitch. I’d worked with her on the TV show
Hollywood Detective
and was convinced that she and Chief East were in a relationship.

Leo and I stood behind East as he went over some basic facts about both Sylvia Lacroix’s murder and last night’s crime scene.

“At this time, we don’t have an ID on the latest victim,” East said, after giving the reporters some information about the burning body. “There was a photograph…”

“Her name is Eva Foster,” Carmine Feckle said, standing and addressing the gathering. “Her mother positively identified her to my staff from the Internet video.”

The room erupted into shouts and a flurry of activity as the reporters made phone calls and shouted out questions. East looked lost for a moment, before the room finally quieted down and he went on. “I don’t know for a fact that what you’re saying is correct.” He glanced at Oz, Leo, and me. “But the assigned detectives will be following up on what you know.”

There were more shouts before another reporter asked, “What’s being done to protect the public? What are the chances that this mad man will strike again?”

East’s answer was full of platitudes about the police department diligently working every lead and him saying there was no reason to believe there would be another killing.

After a couple of more questions, Shelia Woods stood up and said, “What is the department’s working theory about the motives for these crimes?”

East seemed genuinely flummoxed by her question. After a couple of starts and stops, he said, “We believe these crimes are random and might even be the work of two different killers.”

“Two killers?” If she was going easy on East because of their relationship, nothing in her demeanor indicated that was the case. “Videos of both murders were sent to the same Internet site. The victims were approximately the same age. These crimes were vicious and brutal. I don’t understand why you think there are two killers at work.”

The chief turned red and stammered. “It’s possible…we’re still unsure, but the second murder…it might be the work of a copycat.”

“A copycat?” I said. “Do you think our chief has lost his mind?”

Leo and I were in the lieutenant’s office at Hollywood Station, along with Darby, Buck, and our two civilian employees after the news conference had ended. Brie had completed the autopsy on our latest victim and was planning to join us to give us an update. I’d also asked Rose Castillo to join us to give us her insight on the latest crime. She’d called and said she was stuck in traffic, but was on her way.

“I think that reporter sucked out the chief’s brain,” Darby said, in response to my question.

We all shared a laugh. Maybe it was the tension we were feeling, but it seemed like the funniest thing Darby had said in weeks.

“East was feeling the heat and probably just trying to make the reporters think we were making some kind of progress,” Leo said. “I haven’t seen anything in these crimes to make me think a copycat is at work.”

Oz rubbed his forehead. He looked tired and his eyes were bloodshot. “We just need to keep the possibility in mind as we work the cases. I’m sure the chief will eventually come to his senses and back off his claim.”

“What do we know about our latest victim?” Buck asked Selfie and Molly.

“Eva Foster was eighteen, a first year student at Westridge University,” Selfie told us. “Mom said she’d visited a neighborhood friend last night. She left about eleven to walk home, but never made it. She describes her daughter as a good student, with lots of friends. There’s apparently no boyfriend in the picture.”

“The profile is pretty similar to our first victim,” Molly said. “He’s choosing young, vulnerable victims who are easy prey. Physically, there’s also a similarity between the girls he’s taken. Lacroix and Dolan were about the same height, with dark hair and blue eyes.”

“Just as I said before,” Darby told us. “These are crimes of opportunity.”

“They’re also crimes of terror,” I said. “Our killer is putting the video on the Internet to stir up hysteria.”

“Speaking of that,” Oz said, “what do we know about the download?”

Buck answered. “I talked to Jilly Montrose with Crime Scene LA after the news conference. She gave me the IP address associated with the video. Computer crimes should have something for us soon.”

I then took a moment, filling them in on what Mo had said last night. “The talk on the street is that the killer might be in law enforcement and there could be two subjects at work. That would be consistent with what SID found at the crime scene. There were footprints, showing two individuals were involved.”

“Someone in law enforcement,” Darby said, slowly shaking his head. “The next thing you’re going to tell us is that we all need alibis for where we were last night and when Lacroix was murdered.”

I looked at Leo and smiled. “I don’t know what you think, but Darby looks guilty to me.”

As the others laughed, Darby had a mini-meltdown, accusing me of discussing our case with my friends. I told him I didn’t need to discuss the case because of the press coverage, before Oz broke up the confrontation.

“Before Brie and Dr. Castillo get here,” the lieutenant said, trying to refocus the discussion, “let’s talk about where we are on the Duncan and Hanks cases. The families are making some statements to the media that their deaths are being ignored because of the Reaper case.”

Leo and I went over what we’d learned from Howard Slade’s attorney. “It’s just speculation at this point,” I said, “but we think Slade’s attorney could be involved in what happened. They took Gooseberry’s money and sold the drugs they’d promised him to another party. Meanwhile, our three-hundred-pound reality TV star went to the cemetery to have it out with the rappers, thinking they had double-crossed him.”

“Not knowing that Slade, and maybe his attorney, were the ones who ripped him off,” Leo added.

“Maybe it was Jones who did the shooting,” Darby suggested. “He runs down Slade so he doesn’t have to share the payday, then goes to the cemetery with big plans to kill both Gooseberry and the rappers until we showed up.”

Leo shook his head. “Jones is a lowlife. I wouldn’t put it past him to rip off anyone he can, but I don’t think he’s the type to get in a shootout.”

“Maybe somebody was working for him,” Buck suggested. “He shot the rappers and took off when we showed up.”

“I think we need more work on the relationship between Jones and Slade,” Oz said, as Brie came through the door and he motioned for her to take a seat. “Let’s also take a closer look at Jones. Maybe he represented someone they used in the shooting.”

“Jones?” Brie said. “As in Jimmy Jones.”

Oz smiled. “You’ve heard of him?”

“There was something about him being investigated by the state bar association.” Brie looked at me. “It might even have something to do with drugs.”

I made a note. “We’ll check it out.”

“Anything of interest from the autopsy?” Oz asked her.

My friend had been up all night, and, like the rest of us, looked exhausted. “The CO levels were elevated, as expected. The tracheal walls were congested, with soot particles being present there and in her lungs. The body was completely burnt, with charring of the bones, so there isn’t much else that was definitive. The tox screens were negative. It is noteworthy that we found the remnants of cloth threads embedded in the body, suggesting it had been wrapped in a sheet prior to being set on fire.”

What she’d said only confirmed what we all knew from watching the video. The victim had been alive, her body wrapped in a white cloth when it had been set ablaze.

We then got a call from the front desk, telling us that Dr. Castillo had arrived. I took Bernie and met her in the lobby, before walking her back to Oz’s office. In contrast to our earlier meetings, Rose was wearing a dark pantsuit and wore her hair pulled back, away from her face. We exchanged pleasantries as we walked, but her demeanor was a bit solemn, probably because she knew that our earlier case had taken on added complications with the recent murder.

After introductions, Selfie recapped what we knew about the latest crime and Brie again mentioned the autopsy findings. We also showed Rose the video of the burning body on one of the overhead monitors.

Molly then took over, showing her an evidence bag with several of the small flags that were found near the body. “These were found on the ground at the base of the fire. I did some research and I think they’re prayer flags.”

Rose took the evidence bag from her. “Yes. The flags are traditionally found on mountain peaks in the Himalayas. They’re common to the Buddhist traditions in Nepal.”

“And the symbol?” I asked, indicating the interwoven rectangular squares embedded in the flags.

“It’s called an endless knot. It’s an ancient symbol that represents time and movement that flows into that which is eternal. In some interpretations, it is referred to as a death knot, but that’s a simplistic explanation. The knot is more symbolic of that which transcends death.”

I was thinking about the ritualistic aspect of both murders as Molly showed her another evidence bag, with the beaded necklace found on the ground near Dolan’s body.

“They’re called Juzu beads,” Rose explained. “They’re a kind of prayer or rosary bead that is used in Buddhist funeral ceremonies. They represent the transition from one life to the next.”

“There were some flowers and fruit found at the base of the body, as well,” Selfie said.

“They’re traditionally also associated with Buddhism, representing wisdom and virtue, and the transience of earthly life.”

“Let me see if I understand all this,” Darby said. “Was this some kind of funeral service?”

“I believe so,” Rose said. “The cremation of the body in Buddhist cultures represents the soul having been set free of the bondage that is the body. The ceremony embraces the fact that the soul can go on to seek a new life through reincarnation.” She gave us a brief summary of Buddhism and the associated funeral practices, adding, “A white cloth is commonly draped over the body or the coffin, and an oil lamp, such as the one found near your body, is used in these ceremonies.”

Darby was still confused. “But how does this fit with the prior crime? Are we looking for some kind of religious zealot?”

Rose shook her head. “No. I believe we are dealing with someone who is obsessed with the one thing that is common to all living creatures—death.”