The Crucifix Killer(34)

Despite his hatred, Hunter knew that the longer he kept the killer talking, the more chances he had of forcing a mistake, a slip of the tongue.

‘So you decided to come out of retirement?’

The laughter was more enthusiastic this time. ‘I guess you could say that.’

‘Why now?’

‘Patience. All will be revealed in good time, Robert. Anyway, I’d love to chat for longer, but you know I can’t. I just wanted to make sure you knew the games have started again, but don’t worry, I’ll be calling you again soon enough.’

Before Hunter had a chance to say anything else the line went dead. ‘Shit!’

‘What did he say?’ Garcia asked before Hunter could return his phone to his pocket.

‘Not much.’

‘So there’s no doubt anymore, it’s him, it’s the Crucifix Killer.’

With frustration in his eyes Hunter could only manage a slight nod.

‘We’d better tell the captain.’

Hunter registered a certain excitement in Garcia’s voice. ‘I’ll call him from the car; we need to go check those gyms – you drive.’

Hunter’s conversation with Captain Bolter was quick. He told him about checking out a few gyms and about the killer’s phone call. The captain had cogitated the idea of placing a listening device in Hunter’s cell phone, but they’d tried it before with no luck. The caller had used a tracer scrambler device that bounced the call through twenty locations around the globe. For now, there was nothing anyone could do.

Their visit to the gyms in Hollywood came up empty. Neither the reception nor the fitness staff had seen a woman that resembled the computer-generated portrait. They’d need a warrant and a lot of man hours to go through all the member files in the gym’s database, and that would still be a shot in the dark.

The Gold’s Gym branch in Venice Beach is arguably the most famous gym in the world. It shot to fame with the release of the film Pumping Iron, starring Arnold Schwarzenegger in 1977. From professional bodybuilders to movie stars and celebrities, Gold’s Gym in Venice Beach is the place to be if you want to show off your body, but their luck didn’t change. No one recognized the woman in the picture there either.

‘There’s no way we’re gonna go around LA checking all the gyms,’ Garcia said as they reached his car.

‘I know, this was a long shot anyway, but we had to try it,’ Hunter said rubbing his tired eyes. The previous sleepless night was starting to show its signs.

‘So what’s next, model and acting agencies?’

‘Not yet.’ Hunter was deep in thought for a moment. ‘Doctor Winston said he was confident our victim had money and she spent quite a lot of it on pampering herself remember?’

‘Yeah, so?’

‘If she was a struggling actress or model . . .’

‘One thing she wouldn’t have a lot of would be money,’ Garcia picked up where Hunter left off.

‘You’re getting good at this – ever thought about becoming a detective?’ Hunter said derisively.

Garcia lifted his right hand and showed Hunter his middle finger.

‘There’s someone else I’d like to visit.’

‘Who?’ Garcia asked intrigued.

‘If she was a struggling actress or model she’d still be able to make quite a lot of money by doing something else. You mentioned it before.’

Garcia frowned. After a few seconds he snapped his fingers and pointed at Hunter. ‘Hooker,’ he said triumphantly.

Hunter gave him an approving smile. ‘And I know just the guy we need to talk to.’

‘Let’s go then,’ Garcia said sounding eager.

‘Not now, he’s only around at night – are you busy tonight?’ Hunter said with a quick wink.

‘Are you asking me out on a date?’

It was Hunter’s turn to flip Garcia the middle finger.





Sixteen





George Slater left his office at the renowned Tale & Josh law firm at the usual time of six-thirty in the afternoon. His wife Catherine knew she wouldn’t be having dinner with him as it was Tuesday night, ‘poker night.’

George was an average-looking man. The kind that would never attract much attention in a crowd through looks alone, but no one could deny he was charming. Five foot nine with dark-brown eyes and hair to match, his impeccable dress sense had always managed to conceal his thin frame.

After leaving his office George sat listening to the radio news as he drove his luxurious M-Class off-roader Mercedes-Benz to a small rented apartment in Bell Gardens. He’d found the apartment over the internet and dealt directly with the owner avoiding the estate-agent middleman. In exchange for discretion, George had offered to pay the landlord cash – one whole year in advance.