‘Did she have a drink?’
‘Not from me, she had a glass of champagne with her already.’
‘Did she leave after you guys talked?’
‘Not straight away, she hung out by the bar for a while. She said she needed a break from the party. As I said she looked tired.’
‘Did you notice if she talked to anyone else?’
Again, the same questions as D-King’s. ‘Jenny is a very attractive girl. A woman like that hanging by the bar alone on a Friday night is like a magnet for men, so guys always approach her, but there was this one guy . . .’
‘What about him?’
‘He looked a little different. For starters he was wearing a pretty expensive-looking suit. No one really wears suits in here, except the bosses and some of the VIP guests, especially on Friday and Saturday nights. It looked like he was trying to pick her up, but he had no joy.’
‘How do you know?’
‘Not Jenny’s style. She’ll chat and flirt with everyone, guys and girls, but she’s not the kind of girl you can simply pick up in a nightclub. He chatted to her for a few minutes and then left.’
‘What did this guy look like?’
‘I couldn’t really tell you. I just remember he was tall and very well dressed, but other than that . . .’ Pietro shook his head. ‘I’m not very good with faces.’
‘Did you see her talking to anyone else?’
‘Not that I can remember, but then again, it was Friday night, I was too busy to really notice.’
‘Can you remember if you’ve ever seen this tall, well-dressed man in here . . . before or since Friday?’
‘Sorry.’ Another shake of the head. ‘If I have, he didn’t stick out. The only reason I remember him from Friday is because I saw him chatting to Jenny.’
‘Do you know if they left together?’
‘I didn’t see. But as I’ve said before, it’s not Jenny’s style.’
‘Did she seem high or drunk?’
‘Not at all, just tired really.’
Hunter grabbed a card from his beat-up leather wallet. ‘If you ever see the tall guy in here again, stop whatever it is that you’re doing and you call me, do you understand?’
‘Yeah, sure.’ D-King had asked for exactly the same thing.
‘My cell phone number is on the back.’
Pietro examined both sides of Hunter’s card and placed it in his back pocket. ‘She’s not OK, is she?’ he asked with tenderness in his voice.
Hunter hesitated for a moment, but revealing the truth would probably make Pietro keener to help. ‘She’s dead.’
Pietro closed his eyes for an instant. It was hard for him to believe that he would never again see Jenny’s smile or her warm eyes. He would never again hear her soft voice. ‘And you think this tall guy did it?’
‘We don’t know, but it looks like he was the last one to have talked to her.’
Pietro nodded as if he understood what he had to do.
Thirty-Three
The next day started with Hunter and Garcia taking a drive up to George Slater’s house in Brentwood.
‘Wow, this looks nice,’ Garcia said, admiring the striking building. Even by the lofty standards of Hollywood the house was impressive. It was positioned at the end of a narrow lane, shadowed by oak trees. The carved lintels and immaculate white front made the house stand out on a street of distinguished residences. On the east side of the house, overlooking a gorgeous garden was a detached double garage.
‘Being a lawyer has its advantages I guess,’ Hunter replied as he parked his car on the driveway. They made their way along the cobblestone walkway, up the small flight of stairs to the front door and pressed the ‘call’ button on the video-entry system.
‘Yes,’ the reply came just a few seconds later.
Both detectives lifted their badges to the small camera on the wall and introduced themselves.
‘Can you give me just a minute?’ The voice was soft and feminine, but Hunter detected the slight quiver that came from having cried for hours.
‘Of course, ma’am.’
They waited patiently for almost a minute before they heard the sound of approaching footsteps. The door opened to reveal a very attractive woman with golden blond hair that she had up in a slicked-back bun. Her lipstick was a pale shade of red and her make-up subtle, just not enough to disguise the dark circles under her sad hazel eyes. Hunter put her age at around thirty-two. She was wearing a light black chiffon dress that suited her body perfectly. Her grief made her looked tired and frazzled.
‘Hello!’ She had a stunning presence about her, with a sort of delicate superiority. Her posture was perfect.