Thomas Amo - An Apple for Zoë - Book One ~ The Forsaken

"Yes," said Summers in a flat, matter of fact voice. She left the room and made her way out of the front door and back to the car. James quickly followed her feeling frustrated and confused.

"Do you know Julie? Is she in some kind of trouble? Just what the hell does that writing on the bedroom wall mean!" he shouted after her.

Summers reached into the backseat of the car and pulled an evidence pouch from her interview folder. With her back to James she clutched the folder against her chest. She closed her eyes.

"What the hell is going on?" James demanded.

Summers took in a deep breath and then turned to James so that they were face to face. She held the evidence folder out, offering it to him.

"This is why I am here."

James looked at Summers cautiously and then opened the file. A series of photos spilled out from the folder and onto the ground.

James looked down at the top photo and recognized it immediately. The glossy black and white photo had captured the image of a bisected nude female laying in a vacant lot.

"You're here because of The Black Dahlia?" asked James.

"I wish, look again," she said as she pointed to the second photo. This one was a close up of the face of the victim. The eyes were glazed, the mouth gashed into a sardonic grin.

"It's Elizabeth Short, so what?"

"No, Inspector James, it's not. Her name is Julie Jackson."

James looked at Agent Summers with disbelief in his eyes. She felt the pain of his lost blank stare.

"This is Julie? What happened?" asked James through gritted teeth. "I mean, do you know what led up to this? Is there a suspect?"

"No, there's no suspect."

"You must have some idea otherwise you wouldn't be here in San Francisco talking to me."

"I believe our cases our linked but I'm not supposed to tell you that," said Summers as she pulled the report from the file and handed it to James. His eyes scanned the page of the coroners notes: Nude bisected female found in vacant lot. Jane Doe identified via fingerprints as Julie Anne Jackson.

"This murder was obviously meant to be a copycat of Black Dahlia, just as yours was supposed to be a reconstruction of the Arbuckle scandal," said Summers. James thought hard about what he had seen in the hotel and looked again at the photos Summers had shared with him.

"This is your case? This copycat of Elizabeth Short?" asked James. Summers nodded as she tried to read his expression.

"Did you take it over from the Los Angeles police department?"

"No, it was ours from the beginning," said Summers.

"Then that means your case is connected to another murder. One you took over from local jurisdiction. That case led you to Julie didn't it?"

Summers, knew she could no longer keep James in the dark.

"Yes, but I swear Tom, I had no idea your case was going to link to me personally. Whatever this is, it's beyond any kind of traditional investigation."

"Don't give me a bunch of mis-directional bullshit. What was the case that lead you to Julie?" demanded James.

"Two days ago in the early morning hours the Hollywood police were called to the address 401 S. Alvarado Street. The manager of a retail store met them in a panic. He was trying to calm a vagrant who kept shouting, 'He's dead' and pointing to an abandoned house across the street. The police made their way inside the house where they certainly did find a body. But this was someone who had been dead a very long time. The corpse was lying flat on it's back and was extremely well dressed with a diamond studded lapel pin that carried the initials, 'W.D.T.' This, of course, told the officers who ever it was had money when they were buried."

"Were buried? Are you saying someone dug the body up?" asked James.

"That's exactly what I'm saying and robbery was obviously not the motive, otherwise the diamond pin would have been missing. That same morning the police also received a call from the Hollywood Forever Cemetery. Inside their Catholic mausoleum a vault that contained the body of film director William Desmond Taylor had been broken into and his body was missing. The crypt's marble faceplate was shattered in half and the casket was left lying on the ground empty."

"Who's William Desmond Taylor?"

"One of Hollywood's most famous unsolved murder cases."

"The body in the house was his?"

"Yes, someone had taken his corpse and delivered it to the abandoned house."

"And the only way the police knew it was there was because of the homeless man?"

"Yes, but it doesn't stop there. The store manager told police when he arrived to work that morning, he found a book on the doorstep outside the store with a note on the inside cover."

"What did the note say?" asked James as Summers removed a clear plastic evidence bag containing a monogrammed embossed note. Gently he took it from her hands. The moniker bore the initials, M.N. The paper was old and the ink faded. James looked at Summers with a questioned expression.

"Mabel Normand," she said.

The name meant nothing to him as he examined the contents of the note.

To My Dearest Sweet William,

If only we had shared the night.

Mabel

James felt even more confused. "How does this connect to Julie in any..." James suddenly felt a chill in his heart as he read the name Mabel. His memory flashed to Fatty Arbuckle in the hotel.

"How am I doin Mabel?" James remembered the dark haired girl kneeling down next to him. "You're doing just fine Fatty, just fine."

Summers could tell James was remembering something important.

"What is it Tom?"

"Do you have a photograph of Mabel Normand?"

Aware that James was on to something, Summers said, "It's there in the file." James flipped through the folder and found a studio photograph of Mabel Normand. His blood ran cold. It was her.

"Taylor? Is he in here too?" asked James knowingly as Summers nodded quickly. James flipped through more pages until he came across the photo of William Desmond Taylor wearing the diamond studded lapel pin. His knees left him as James slowly slid down to the ground with his back against the car. Summers knelt down next to him. "Tom!"

"Holy Jesus Christ, Ashton. They were all there."

"Who?"

"I saw them."

"Saw who, Tom? You're not making sense."

"Yesterday when I was in room 1219 I saw this man, William Desmond Taylor."

"You saw him? How?"

"I don't know how, but he was there with her, Mabel Normand."

"Tom, that's not possible! Unless you're telling me you had some kind of experience up there."

"What are you saying? You think I saw ghosts?"

"You have to admit whatever is going on here isn't natural."

"I'm really having a hard time accepting that. But I also can't deny something happened to me in that hotel and whatever it is, it's personal for both of us."

"Tom we need a plan."

James suddenly remembered. "Wait, you said there was a book."

"Book?" quizzed Summers.

"Yes, with the note from Mabel inside it."

Summers responded nodding yes.

"What was the book? I mean the title?"

Summers retrieved a leather briefcase from the car. Slowly she opened it and removed the book that was sealed in a clear plastic evidence bag. She handed it to James. The book was old and worn, same as the note. It showed considerable wear on its black hard covers as James held it in his hands. The front was embossed with gold stamp printing and showed Egyptian pillars, a great winged seal with hieroglyphs. The title gave James an involuntary shiver as he read it. It was called The Book of Lies.

As James examined the book his mind wandered back to Julie.

"Why weren't you supposed to tell me our cases were linked?" asked James.