Nancy Grace - Death on the D-List

Tony’s BlackBerry buzzed. It was an e-mail alert from the show’s editorial producer. A guy had just thrown battery acid onto his ex inside a cell phone store in New Jersey. A show producer was on her way to the hospital.

His heart raced and he nearly clicked his heels together as he practically ran back inside and headed for the elevators.

SO, YOU’VE GOT A BULLET MATCH ON ALL THREE: STOCKTON, Love, and Malone? And you’ve got Scott Anderson connected to all three, and lying about it. Why would he lie about it if he were on the up-and-up? There’s got to be something there…”

Hailey stood at the widest window of her apartment, the one facing the West Side. The sun shone down brightly on them through low-hanging clouds, making the buildings sparkle in the morning light.

“Exactly,” Kolker said. “Why lie unless there’s something more nefarious involved other than just a fling? From what we can tell, he’s had plenty of those. Just usually not with dead girls.”

“Other than knowing them, and actually having an affair with one of them, Malone, what else do we have? Let’s see, he was the last person to see Malone alive, a history of alleged violence on women, a wife and a girlfriend. We have him lying about Stockton at Pebble Beach, that we know of ; there may have been more between them… Then we’ve got him basically stalking Prentiss Love at the Memorabilia Fair at the Javits Center.”

“I can’t believe you found that clip, Hailey. That’s incredible. You basically found all the hard evidence we’ve got on him.”

“No way. The best thing so far is him on the Malone security cam. Thank Heaven they hadn’t taped over it already.”

“They would have, but they just hadn’t re-set the camera yet. We lucked out. And, true, the security cam is great evidence, but I can’t make a case out of a couple of house calls. I know you stayed up late sifting through it all.”

Hailey thought for a split second and decided to leave out that she’d woken up with her heart pounding from another nightmare about Hayden’s and Melissa’s murders. “I was just lucky when I found it.”

“You always say that. Look, Hailey, thanks. I really mean it.”

“No problem. I kind of miss working cases. So tell me about Scott Anderson. He’s good-looking, I can see that from the video. But what’s he all about?”

“Lives alone…”

“Of course. They usually do…” Hailey was automatically beginning to profile him in her mind. White male, early thirties, college educated, single again after a divorce, split on bad terms, living alone, house pretty much bare, based on what Kolker had told her earlier…

The buzzer rang and Hailey left the window and walked over to the intercom linking her apartment to the front desk.

“What’s up, Ricky?” She spoke clearly and directly into the intercom on her kitchen wall.

“Hailey, you order food?”

“Yeah. I got a hungry cop up here.”

“Okay. I’ll send him up.”

“Thanks, Ricky. I ordered you a pastrami. Get it out.”

“You’re the best, Hailey. Thanks.”

“And there’s a cherry seltzer water in there too for you.”

“Thanks, Hailey.”

Hailey smiled, picturing Ricky diving into the brown paper delivery bag from the diner across the street.

She looked at Kolker. He was making a disgusted face.

“What’s wrong?”

“Ugh! Cherry seltzer?” He looked like he chewed poison.

“Yes, Ricky went on a diet and exercise kick a while back. After a few weeks, he stopped the diet and exercise. The only thing that stuck was low-cal seltzer water!”

They both laughed again and Hailey answered the door, signed for the food, and brought it back to the kitchen to lay it out on the kitchen counter.

“So even if you prove he knew all three, or at least knew two and stalked one, had an affair with one of them, maybe two, what else do you have? Although I gotta tell you, that’s pretty strong circumstantial evidence linking him to all three women…” Hailey pulled bottled waters out of the bottom of her fridge.

“That’s right. I mean, come on, what’s the likelihood one guy is going to be linked to all three dead women? Practically zero.”

“Don’t know and don’t care. Statistics are not allowed in as evidence. I only care about what I can put before a jury. What about prints?”

“Nothing. Nada. Zilch. This guy knows what he’s doing. I brought in the best, and nothing.”

“Get the outside of the car? Up around the window? The doors at the pool house? The light switch in the pool house? The chair where Stockton was sitting?”

“And then some.”

“What about the doors and light switches at Malone’s place?”

“Done.”

“Any glasses out in the kitchen you could check for prints or DNA?” Hailey was grasping at straws now.

“The place was clean as a whistle. Turns out the maid had just come the day before. We looked over the whole apartment, bedroom and bathrooms included, for glasses. Matches, cigarette butts, you name it.”

“Bathroom door handles and light switches? Just in case he went in here? Was her bed made?”

“Checked all the bathrooms and, no, her bed was not made. But it was only unmade on one side, the side she slept on.”

“How could you tell?”

“Glass of wine there from the night before on the bedside table and a stack of Variety magazines. Looks like Fallon Mallone was seriously looking for a comeback project.”

“Hmm.” Hailey’s mind was racing. “How about the gun? The murder weapon?”

“Well, you’d think the killer would dispose of it somewhere close to the crime like they always do. The fact that he hasn’t makes me think more murders are coming.”

“Me, too. But this guy will never get rid of that gun. If he hasn’t already tossed it, he’ll keep using it. It’s one of his signatures. He’s used it in all three. The gun matters to him. Or else he’d probably ditch it.” Hailey watched as Kolker dug into his turkey sandwich. She unfolded her own and began pulling out some of the lettuce that was piled on so thick she could hardly bite the thing.

She really didn’t even want the sandwich. What she really wanted, she couldn’t have. Right now, anyway. She wanted collard greens. The kind from home.

Hailey had been to all the great New York City restaurants and, yes, they were truly great. Italian, sushi, Chinese, seafood, American cuisine, vegetarian, raw, she’d done it all. But nowhere could she find collard greens

That very morning, she’d tried to get some in a grocery store. Of course, the produce clerk had to ask his boss what they were. When the manager showed up in the vegetable and fruit corner of D’Agostino’s grocery store, he said they rarely got them due to lack of demand.

The manager then sagely advised she try the pet shop around the corner. When Hailey threw him a puzzled look, he responded, “Don’t you have a pet iguana?” Turns out, the only reason New Yorkers ever buy the stinky greens is so they can chop them up and feed them raw to the little lizards who, apparently, would kill for a plate of collards just like Hailey would.

Good to know.

Thus, the turkey sandwich. “So, bullet match, no prints. Cell phone, text, or e-mail links?”

“One link other than Scott Anderson. Some kid by the name of Jonathon Kent. He apparently wrote all three, but from what we can tell from his e-mails, he’s a high school kid with major crushes on the women he sees on TV. Seems pretty harmless. But it’s odd he was writing all three.”

“That is strange. Almost as odd as Anderson being connected to all three. What’s this kid writing about?” Hailey lived by the rule that there were no coincidences in criminal law.