Chris Carter - The Executioner

Studio City had gotten its name because of its proximity to the major movie corporations and broadcasting systems. Universal was only ten minutes away. Paramount, CBS and all of old Hollywood were just across the canyon, and if you took a quick fifteen-minute freeway drive you could be in Burbank and NBC. Most of the young and beautiful Hollywood elite liked to spend their free time wandering around the many boutiques, clubs, bars and coffeehouses in the Greenwich Village – a place to see and be seen.

Tania Riggs lived in a wood-sided complex surrounded by tens of lacy elms and giant sycamores. Every apartment had its own private balcony, and the complex had a communal pool, gym and recreational rooms.

Hunter and Garcia climbed the stairs to Tania’s second-floor apartment in silence. Both wrestling with their own thoughts, trying to organize them in their heads.

Hunter’s knock was answered by a woman in her forties; brunette, average height and quite overweight. Her shoulder-length hair was pinned back into a ponytail, and her dark brown eyes seemed heavy and tired, mostly from crying, Hunter deducted. She was wearing dark blue cotton pants and a black sweater. Hunter and Garcia introduced themselves and waited patiently while Tania Riggs studied their credentials.

‘Please come in,’ she said in a quiet voice, taking a step to her left.

There was a hint of scented candles in the air – Hunter guessed jasmine.

‘Please have a seat.’ She indicated a low-slung, mattress-style blue sofa tufted with buttons. Her living space was open and the furnishing sparse. Besides the sofa, there were two armchairs, a wooden coffee table, an acrylic four-seater dining table and a half-full bookcase against the far wall.

‘Can I get you a drink?’ she offered timidly.

‘No, thank you, Mrs. Riggs, we’re fine,’ Hunter replied, taking a seat on the sofa. It was surprisingly comfortable.

‘Please call me Tania. Mrs. Riggs makes me feel even older than I am.’ She took a seat at the armchair furthest from the sofa. A clear sign that she wasn’t comfortable having people around.

‘We’re very sorry about Miss Reilly,’ Hunter said in a subdued tone of voice.

Tania squeezed her eyes tightly and two tears rolled down her face.

‘Were you longtime friends?’

She nodded sadly. ‘Almost thirty years. I started working at Palm Properties just a week before Mandy. We clicked straight away. I was probably the only one who didn’t hate her.’

‘Hate her?’ Garcia asked with interest.

Tania hesitated for a moment as if she’d said something she shouldn’t have. She offered an explanation. ‘Mandy was very pretty, very ambitious and very good at what she did. She was also very charming and she certainly knew how to win clients over. Right from the start, everyone could see she’d go places, and it didn’t take long for the envious looks to start flying around. Every male employee and client wanted to sleep with her.’ Tania thought about it for a second. ‘I’m sure some of the female ones did too. The real estate business is a very tough business, detective. Everyone’s fighting to do better than the next person, and sometimes the punches come very low.’ She anxiously ran a hand from her forehead up to her hair and kept it there for an instant. ‘No one’s ever happy for you if you’re doing well, unless they own the company and you’re bringing them money. And Mandy always did well, very well.’

‘So when you say “hate”, you mean people were envious of her?’ Hunter asked.

‘Yes. Of her beauty and of her success.’

‘But you weren’t?’ Garcia this time.

Tania shook her head. ‘Look at me,’ she said with a coy smile. ‘I’m no Miss America and this isn’t something of late. I’ve always looked like this. I’ve always been a big girl. I knew I could never be like Mandy, so it didn’t really bother me. I never had the sort of ambition she had either.’ She paused and used the back of her right hand to clear her tears. ‘Truthfully, I was happy that she became my friend. In school I had very few friends. People made fun of me all the time because I was fat and not very pretty. I pretended it didn’t affect me, but deep inside it was awful. I’d never cry in school, but when I got home I broke down almost every night.’

Hunter nodded understandingly, and for a brief moment he remembered how skinny and awkward he used to be in school.

‘I knew how Mandy felt in the office with everyone giving her the eye and whispering behind her back. I think that’s probably why we became such good friends.’

‘How was she as a boss?’ Garcia asked, crossing his legs and leaning his elbows on them.

‘Fantastic. The best boss I ever had. I guess because of what she went through, she had no patience for bullies. She treated everyone equally.’ Tania reached for the box of tissues on the coffee table.

‘Did she ever have a problem with an employee?’ Garcia asked. ‘She had to let a lot of people go, didn’t she?’

‘Everyone who worked for Mandy loved her. She did everything she could to keep every job in the company intact, but it wasn’t up to her. The property market in LA has collapsed, and everyone in the business knows that. No one held her responsible.’

A brown cat appeared at the kitchen door, looked at both detectives for a long while and decided it didn’t want to come any closer, disappearing back into the kitchen.

‘Do you know if she was seeing someone?’ Hunter asked.

‘Since her divorce, Mandy didn’t care much for relationships. She had flings, but nothing serious.’

‘Any recent ones?’ Garcia asked.

‘Not that I know of.’

‘Did she date clients?’

‘No, never.’ Tania shook her head vigorously. ‘She might’ve flirted with some, but that’s part of the job. We’ve gotta be charming, sometimes flirty, but that’s all. As far as I know, Mandy never broke that rule.’

‘I understand Mandy showed the house in Malibu to a prospective buyer on Saturday evening,’ Hunter said, now using Amanda’s nickname as if they were chatting about an old friend.

Tania dabbed the corners of her eyes with a paper tissue and nodded. ‘He was the killer, wasn’t he?’

Hunter leaned forward and held Tania’s gaze for a short moment before tilting his head. ‘We can’t say for certain, but he’s a person of interest. What can you tell us about him?’

‘Not very much,’ Tania replied in a strangled voice.

‘Anything would help,’ Garcia insisted.

‘He booked the viewing over the phone. He said his name was Turner, Mr. Ryan Turner.’

Hunter wrote it down in his black notebook. ‘When was that? When did he call to book the viewing?’

‘On Friday.’

‘Who talked to him, you or Mandy?’

‘I did the first time.’

‘Was there a second?’ Hunter pressed.

‘Yes. He called on Saturday to say he’d be a little late.’

The cat appeared at the kitchen door again. This time it moved into the living room tentatively and laid down under the acrylic table.

‘Do you remember the conversation you had with him?’

She nodded. ‘It wasn’t a very long one, though.’

‘Do you remember his voice? Was there anything particular about it? An accent, for example?’

‘Yes,’ she said with a series of quick nods. ‘He definitely had a southern accent, like a hillbilly twang. Maybe Texas or Mississippi.’

‘Was his tone of voice aggressive… subtle? Was the voice high pitched… low?’

She shook her head. ‘Not aggressive at all. Very polite, actually. There wasn’t anything particular about his voice.’ She looked down at the floor. ‘I’m sorry.’