Chris Carter - The Executioner

‘No children?’ Hunter asked, already guessing the answer, judging by the lack of any other family pictures in the office.

‘Unfortunately, no.’ A different sorrow coated Tyler’s words, and Hunter understood that having no children hadn’t been his choice. He allowed the awkward moment to subside before proceeding.

‘Did you know Amanda Reilly?’

‘We met a couple of times when I approached her company to handle the sale of the house,’ Tyler replied, glad to change the subject.

‘How long ago was that?’

Tyler tilted his head to one side and scratched his temple. ‘About eight months ago, when the house first went up for sale.’

‘Not since?’

‘There was no need. Her company was recommended to me. One of my clients had his house sold through Reilly’s. I didn’t wanna have anything to do with it. I wanted someone who could handle everything. She came across as a very genuine and trustworthy person, and her track record spoke for itself.’ Something changed on his computer screen and Tyler glared at it for a second. ‘We talked on the phone a few times. She’d call me every now and then to update me on any viewings.’

‘Did she call you last week about a viewing this past Saturday?’ Hunter asked, checking his black notebook.

Tyler nodded. ‘She called me on Friday.’ He pulled himself closer to his desk. ‘She sounded really excited. More excited than she did about any of the previous viewings. She said that the prospective buyer-’ Tyler reached for a stylish leather-bound diary on his desk and flipped back a few pages ‘-someone called Ryan Turner, was really eager to see the house.’ He paused and slowly lifted his eyes from the diary. ‘She said she had a good feeling about this guy.’

An unpleasant silence took over Dan Tyler’s office, and Hunter and Garcia looked at each other.

‘Do you have the names of everyone that requested a viewing of the house?’ Hunter asked, nodding at Tyler’s diary.

‘It’s a habit of mine. I don’t go into business with anyone I haven’t checked out. Even though I can’t bring myself to live there anymore, that house is still very dear to me and I wouldn’t sell it to someone who wouldn’t appreciate it. A property developer, for example. Someone who’d knock it down to build something else.’

‘I’m guessing you’d only run background checks on buyers if they’d actually made an offer?’

Tyler nodded halfheartedly. ‘There’s no point spending time and money on someone who’s only window-shopping.’ He shook his head as if he’d made a mistake. ‘I should’ve checked him anyway.’

‘He most certainly used a false name,’ Hunter said. ‘You probably wouldn’t have found anything on him.’

‘And that would’ve gotten every alarm bell in my head going.’ Tyler looked straight into Hunter’s eyes. ‘I deal with a lot of rich people, Detective Hunter. They’re all “proud” of what they’ve achieved and who they are. It’s a show-off game for most of them. Mine is bigger than yours kinda thing. A person going for a four-million-dollar house with a nonexistent past is a clear “be aware” sign to me.’

Hunter nodded his understanding. ‘If you don’t mind, I’d like a copy of the list of names Miss Reilly has given you over these eight months.’

‘Sure.’ Tyler reached inside his top drawer and handed Hunter a printed list. Seven names in total. Hunter studied Tyler through the top of the list. His eyes questioning.

Tyler smiled thinly. ‘That’s how I make my money, detective. I have to be logical, practical and, above all, think ahead. It was only logical to deduct that you’d want that list of names.’

Hunter read the names in silence. None stood out.

‘None of them made an offer,’ Tyler continued. ‘I never requested a background check on any of them.’ He stood up and approached the bar. ‘Are you sure I can’t get you anything?’ he insisted.

‘No, thank you. We’re fine.’

Tyler poured himself a shot of bourbon. ‘It’s hard to believe that a place that’d brought me the happiest days of my life housed such a monstrous act.’ He sipped his drink. ‘Is it true what I read in the paper?’ He hesitated for a second. ‘Did the killer really use the fireplace to burn her?’

Hunter nodded in silence.

For a second Tyler’s stare became distant, and Hunter knew his memory had gone back to the house. To the living room and the fireplace he knew so well. He swallowed and quickly took another sip of his bourbon.

‘And is this really the same killer who decapitated that priest last week?’

‘You shouldn’t believe everything you read in the papers,’ Garcia replied.

‘I don’t. That’s why I’m asking.’

‘At the moment it’s all speculation,’ Hunter lied.

Tyler walked up to the large glass window that offered a panoramic view of LA’s financial district. ‘This city has changed so much. I don’t think I understand it anymore.’

‘Did you ever?’ Garcia asked.

Tyler smiled. ‘You’ve gotta point there.’

‘If it’s OK with you, I’d like to show you some photographs that were taken at the house,’ Hunter said and was quick to sense Tyler’s uneasiness. ‘Don’t worry,’ he clarified. ‘They aren’t photos of the victim.’

Tyler stared at his glass. There was something else worrying him. Hunter realized what it was. The pictures would bring back memories of the house and his wife. ‘I know this is hard…’

Tyler shook his head and returned to his desk. ‘It’s OK, detective.’

Hunter placed several photographs on Tyler’s desk. They all showed the main living room of the house in Malibu. ‘We were wondering if you could have a look at these pictures. See if anything strikes you as odd or being out of place?’

Tyler allowed his eyes to study each photograph for a few seconds. ‘It’s hard to say. I haven’t been to the house for eight months. The cleaning company might’ve moved things around.’

‘We understand that,’ Hunter agreed. ‘But maybe there’s something that really catches your eye.’

Tyler finished his drink, gathered all the photographs into a single pile and sat back in his chair. He flipped through them carefully, sometimes frowning, sometimes squinting as if trying to remember. Both detectives sat quietly observing his reactions. Halfway through the pictures he stopped. Something had grabbed his attention.

‘Do you see something?’ Hunter asked.

Tyler lifted his right index finger, asking for a minute. He then searched through the rest of the photos until he found the one he was looking for.

‘What do you see?’ Hunter pressed.

Garcia leaned forward, stretching his neck.

Tyler placed the photo on his desk facing the detectives. It showed the large river rock fireplace.

‘Something different about the fireplace?’ Hunter asked.

‘On the mantelpiece,’ Tyler replied.

Both detectives’ eyes shot to the photos. The fireplace mantelpiece was decorated with several objects – small vases, a couple of picture frames, a few figurines…

‘What’s different about it?’

‘My memory can be hazy at times, but one thing I remember well is that Kate never kept any picture frames in the living room.’ He tapped the picture with his index finger. ‘In the reception entrance yes, but not in the living room. She was superstitious like that. She thought it was unlucky. Those picture frames on the fireplace-’ he shook his head vigorously ‘-they certainly weren’t there when we lived in the house.’

‘Excuse me, honey,’ the tallest of the four men sitting at the corner table in the old-fashioned diner said to the brunette waitress as she walked past.