Chris Carter - The Crucifix Killer

‘No, that room has its own storage area. The body can stay down there indefinitely.’ Chris’s answer added to the detective’s irritation.

‘Are you sure you can’t get me in that room?’

‘No chance, only Doctor Winston has the key and he keeps it on him at all times.’

‘Isn’t there a way around it?’

‘Not really. The door is alarmed and there is a camera on the wall. If you ain’t invited, you ain’t getting in.’

‘How many bodies are down there?’

‘Only one that I know of.’

‘Have you got a picture of the body or any records on your computer?’

‘No, Doctor Winston keeps everything related to the cases that go into the sealed-off area in there. They don’t even get added to the main database until they’re cleared by the doctor himself. Anyway, even if I had a picture of the body I don’t think it would help you.’

‘And why’s that?’

‘Well, rumor has it the body’s unrecognizable, something to do with it having no face.’

‘What? Really?’

‘That’s what I’ve heard.’

‘Decapitated?’

‘I’m not sure, I just heard the body had no face. It could’ve been blown off by a shotgun. It’s not unheard of,’ Chris said shaking his head.

Mark Culhane took a moment to think about the situation he’d been presented with. In his mind, the odds of the only body in the sealed-off area being of Jenny Farnborough were quite skinny. He saw no point in pursuing it.

‘Thanks, Chris. Do me a favor will you? Keep an eye out for any bodies matching the description I gave you, if anything comes in, give me a shout, it’s important.’ Culhane handed Chris one of his cards.

Chris regarded the card for a moment. ‘Sure, anything for the LAPD.’

‘I’d better get going. Do you mind if I get out through the same door we came in?’

‘That’s fine by me. I’ll have to walk down with you, there’s a code to the door.’

They left the cold-storage room and walked back in silence. As they reached the door, Culhane handed the overall back to Chris who punched the code into the metal keypad. Culhane was glad to see the outside world again.

Sitting inside his car, Culhane lit a cigarette. There were another two Coroner offices in Los Angeles, one in Santa Clarita and one in West Lancaster, but he wasn’t sure if it was worth the trip. He finished his cigarette and decided he’d done all he could do to find this Jenny Farnborough girl; she was only another hooker anyway. In the morning he’d call Jerome and let him know. For now, he had more important things to do.

West Sunset Boulevard is one of the most famous streets in Los Angeles, but its best-known portion is the mile and a half stretch between Hollywood and Beverly Hills that has been dubbed ‘The Sunset Strip . ’ The Strip embraces a premier collection of rock clubs, restaurants, boutiques, and Hollywood nightspots. It’s been known as ‘the place to be seen in LA’ since the early seventies. Every evening, the Strip becomes a vibrant slash of gaudy neon, with traffic almost coming to a standstill as huge numbers of cars cruise down a people-packed boulevard. From celebrities to celebrity wannabes, from tourists and people-watchers to sleazy sex dealers, the Sunset Strip is definitely the place to be if you’re looking for action in the City of Angels.

‘Remind me again who’re we here to see at this time?’ Garcia asked as Hunter parked his car on Hilldale Avenue, just around the corner from the Strip.

‘A scumbag called JJ,’ Hunter replied getting out of the car and grabbing his jacket from the back seat.

Juan Jimenez, better known as JJ, was a low-life, small-time pimp who liked to conduct his business around Sunset Boulevard. He exploited his girls, all five of them. His trick was to keep them hooked on some sort of ‘class A’ drug. JJ was a violent man, and every now and then one of his girls would turn up in hospital with cuts and bruises, sometimes even broken bones. ‘I tripped and fell ’ was always the lame explanation.

JJ had been arrested several times, but none of his girls had ever had the guts to press charges. His most powerful weapon – fear. ‘ Cross me and I’ll cut you open.’

‘And he can help us?’ Garcia asked.

‘He knows these streets and the girls that work them better than anyone. If our victim was a pro, he should be able to tell us. We might need to use a little “persuasion” though.’

They walked up Sunset Strip through the never-ending bustle of people trying to get into the already packed bars and clubs.

‘So where’re we going?’ Garcia asked, looking around like a kid in a playground.

‘There it is,’ Hunter pointed to the colorful sign that hung above number 9015 West Sunset Boulevard.

The Rainbow Bar and Grill has been a hangout for rock musicians since the seventies and not much has changed. Gold records, guitars, photos and autographs from a variety of bands and solo artists adorned the walls. Rock music blasted through its speakers while a mixture of long-haired guys and peroxide blonds wearing next to nothing surrounded the bar and occupied the tables inside and outside.

‘Is this JJ character into Rock?’ Garcia asked.

‘You better believe it.’

‘I thought he was from Cuba or something like that.’

‘Puerto Rico.’

‘Aren’t they all into salsa or meringue or something?’

‘Not JJ.’

Garcia looked around the place and although they stood out from the crowd no one had taken any notice of them. ‘Can you see him?’

Hunter quickly scanned the bar and tables. ‘Not yet, but this is his favorite hangout, he’ll be here. Let’s grab a drink and wait.’ Hunter ordered an orange juice and Garcia a Diet Coke.

‘They actually cook a great steak in here if you’re ever hungry,’ Hunter said, lifting his glass as if proposing a toast.

‘Been here much?’ Garcia asked with a contemptuous expression.

‘A few times.’

‘Wow, the Hideout Bar in Santa Monica, the Rainbow in Sunset Strip. You’re a bit of a party animal, aren’t you?’

Hunter didn’t reply and concentrated his attention on the bar entrance. He hadn’t seen JJ for the best part of five years, but the tall, very slim, dark-skinned Puerto Rican was an easily recognizable figure, with black pearl eyes, appallingly large ears and crooked teeth.

A tall, blond woman wearing overly tight leather trousers and a cropped top with the words ‘Rock Bitch’ across the front approached the bar and positioned herself to Hunter’s right. She ordered a ‘Slow Comfortable Screw up Against the Wall’ and gave Hunter a sensual smile. Hunter smiled back and for a split second his eyes fell on her cleavage.

‘Do you like them?’ she asked with a sweet voice.

‘Uh… like what?’ Hunter tried to play dumb.

She looked down at her breasts which seemed about to explode out of her top. ‘My tits silly… I saw you looking at them.’

‘Busted,’ Garcia said with an animated laugh.

No point being embarrassed now, Hunter thought. ‘They look… very nice.’

‘They’re brand new,’ she said proudly.

The barman came back with her cocktail and without breaking eye contact with Hunter she wrapped her red lips around the double straw and slowly sipped her drink.

‘Is that nice?’ Hunter asked.

‘A slow screw is always nice,’ she said having a second sip before moving closer. ‘Maybe I could show you sometime,’ she whispered into his ear while she ran her hand over his right bicep.

It all happened too fast. JJ had barely stepped into the Rainbow when his eyes met Hunter’s and all of a sudden he was back outside; his legs moving like a quarterback’s going for the touchdown that could win them the Super Bowl. Hunter sprung into action. He had no time to alert his partner whose undivided attention was on the tall blond’s new pair of breasts. In a split second he was outside chasing JJ down Sunset Strip.