Chris Carter - The Crucifix Killer

‘Different kind of powder,’ he shot back with conviction. ‘Cornstarch is much finer and a lot harder to wash off, that’s why you have it only around your cuticles and not your fingers. Plus you have it on both of your hands. So unless you’re an ambidextrous professor, I’ll stick with my surgical gloves theory.’

She stared at him in silence. A nervous smile played on her lips.

‘The other giveaway is that UCLA Medical School is just around the corner,’ he said with a new tilt of the head.

Isabella hesitated for a second. ‘Wow, you are good. I have been wearing gloves all morning.’

‘As I’ve said, just observation, really.’ Hunter smiled, secretly glad that he’d impressed her.

‘You said you teach? You don’t look like the professor type.’

‘I said I could be a professor, but now I’m curious. What does the professor type look like?’ she asked with a chuckle.

‘Well, you know…’ he chose his words carefully. ‘Older, balder, thick glasses…’

Isabella laughed and ran her fingers through her hair, pulling it to one side but letting her fringe fall partially over her left eye. ‘Here at UCLA you’ll find even the surfer-type professor. Long hair, tattoos, piercings. Some even come to class wearing flip-flops and shorts.’

Hunter laughed.

The waiter came back to check on their orders.

‘Sig.na Isabella, come sta?’

‘Va bene, grazie, Luigi.’

‘What can I get for you today?’ he asked in a very strong Italian accent.

Isabella didn’t need to look at the menu to decide, she knew exactly what she wanted.

‘What do you recommend?’ Hunter asked, struggling to make a selection of his own.

‘Do you like olives, pepperoni and pine nuts?’

‘Yeah, very much.’

‘OK, then have the penne Pazze, it’s gorgeous,’ she said, pointing down at her menu.

Hunter accepted her suggestion and complemented it with a small rucola and parmesan salad. He thought about having some garlic bread, but decided against it – not the best of dishes when you’re out on a date. They both opted for no wine as they still had to go back to work after lunch.

‘How about you? How’s work going?’ she asked.

‘Same old, same old, just a different day,’ he said playing with his bread knife.

‘I bet being a detective in a city like LA isn’t easy?’

Hunter looked up and stared at Isabella, intrigued. ‘How do you know I’m a detective?’

It was Isabella’s turn to fix him down with a stare. ‘Huh?’ She paused and worked her fingers through her fringe. ‘Are you kidding?’

His expression told her he wasn’t.

‘This past weekend? In my apartment?’

She got no reaction from him.

‘Do you remember anything about that night? We went back to my place from the bar, you took off your jacket and the first thing I saw was a gun. I freaked out and you showed me your badge saying that everything was OK, you were a detective for the city of Los Angeles.’

Hunter looked down in embarrassment. ‘I’m sorry… I actually don’t remember much about that night… little memory flashes, but that’s all. How much did I have to drink?’

‘Quite a lot,’ she said giggling to herself.

‘Was I on Scotch?’

‘Yep,’ she nodded. ‘So you don’t remember much about that night at all?’

‘Very little.’

‘Do you remember sleeping with me?’

The embarrassment was now complete. A slight shake of the head was all he could muster.

‘Oh God! So I wasn’t memorable?’

‘Oh no, it’s not like that. I’m sure you’re incredible in bed…’ Hunter realized he’d said those words louder than he intended. Their conversation had suddenly attracted the attention of some of the neighboring tables. ‘Wow, that sentence came out all wrong,’ he said in a much lower tone of voice.

Isabella smiled. ‘Your brain working faster than your lips again?’ she teased.

Luigi came back with a bottle of still mineral water and poured it into the wine glass in front of her. Hunter declined signaling that he was alright with his Diet Coke.

‘Grazie, Luigi,’ she said softly.

‘Si figuri, sig.na,’ he replied with a jovial smile.

Isabella waited until Luigi was gone. ‘I must admit that your phone call yesterday came as a surprise.’

‘Surprising people is one of the things I do best,’ Hunter replied, sitting back on his chair.

‘I was unsure of what to make of it. I didn’t know if you really wanted to see me or just get into my pants again.’

Hunter smiled. He admired her forwardness. ‘And that’s why you opted for a quick lunch. Dinner dates are easier to escalate into something else.’

‘Lunch dates are safer,’ Isabella confirmed.

‘Plus you wanted to check me out.’

‘What do you mean?’ She played dumb.

‘We both had a few more drinks than we intended on the night we met. Our perceptions probably got somewhat… distorted. You were probably unsure of what I look like and if I was worth going on a second date with. A quick lunch date would clear all that up.’

Isabella bit her lip.

Hunter knew he was right.

‘I’m sure I remember more than you do,’ she said, playing with her hair again.

‘True,’ Hunter admitted. ‘But that night was atypical. I usually don’t drink to the point of passing out and not remembering what happened.’ He had a sip of his Diet Coke. ‘So, did I pass the lunch-date test?’

Isabella nodded. ‘With flying colors. Did I?’

Hunter frowned.

‘C’mon. You were checking me out just as much as I was checking you out. You said it yourself. You don’t remember much.’

Hunter enjoyed her company. She was certainly different from most women he’d met. He liked her sense of humor, her sharp answers and her irreverent way. They both stared at each other for a little while. Hunter felt just as comfortable being silent with her as he did in conversation.

Luigi arrived with their pasta and Hunter watched as Isabella placed her serviette around the collar of her blouse like a true Italian. He did the same.

‘Wow, this is absolutely beautiful,’ he said after his first mouthful.

‘I told you, this is authentic Italian food, that’s why they are always busy.’

‘I bet you eat in here all the time. I would.’

‘Not as much as I’d like. I have to keep an eye on my figure you know.’ She looked down at her waist.

‘Well, whatever you are doing, it’s working out fine for you,’ he said with a smile.

Before she was able to thank him for his compliment Hunter’s phone rang. He knew it was impolite to leave his phone on inside a restaurant, but he had no choice.

‘Sorry about this,’ he said semi-embarrassed, bringing his phone to his ear. Isabella didn’t seem to mind.

‘Detective Hunter speaking.’ He heard a faint click.

‘ Go down Camp Road in Griffith Park. Before you get to the end of it you’ll reach a sharp right elbow turn, don’t go right, take the tiny dirt road on the south end of it and follow it all the way around until you reach the high trees. There you’ll find an M-Class Mercedes-Benz. I left the result of yesterday’s gamble inside it .’ Before Hunter had a chance to say anything the robotic voice hung up.

Hunter looked up at Isabella’s staring eyes. She didn’t need to be psychic to know something wasn’t right. ‘What’s wrong?’ she asked concerned.

Hunter took a deep breath before answering. ‘I gotta go… I’m so sorry.’

Isabella watched as Hunter stood up and grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair.

‘I’m really sorry for having to run out on you again.’

‘It’s OK, trust me, I understand.’ She stood up, took a step forward and kissed him on both cheeks.