the case for HSS and they wanted to get your preliminary thoughts before you go to the morgue.”
Len frowned, clearly irked that he was being asked for updates when he was so close to being out the door. He seemed about to say something to that effect when Jessie gave him her patented “don’t mess with me” stare, the one she’d developed when trying to talk down murderers. An impatient forensic bureaucrat in corduroy pants wasn’t going to intimidate her. Apparently it worked, because he started listing information off.
“This is all preliminary, mind you. I won’t even have the first draft of the report until tomorrow. But her neck was broken. There were some defensive wounds but only bruising. No cuts or scratches, meaning it’ll be harder to get DNA. She had on a bra but was shirtless. Her top was found beside the bed over there in good shape—not ripped, no buttons popped off. She was wet—body and clothing, almost as if she’d been intentionally hosed down. The guy who found her said there was still water on her skin. It hadn’t had time to evaporate. She was really drenched. I’m skeptical that we’ll find anything usable.”
“Any sign of sexual assault?” Karen asked.
“We’ll do more comprehensive testing on that when we get back. But initial inspection suggests no.”
“That makes sense,” Jessie added. “If the perpetrator knew enough to douse her in water to get rid of DNA evidence, and had raped her, he’d likely have removed all her clothes to soak her everywhere. Let’s go back to the neck. How pronounced was the break?”
“I mean, it was enough to kill her,” Fustos replied.
“I get that, but could you determine the force used? That might be able to tell us how strong the killer is.”
“Again, preliminary, but her skull was bobbing like a rag doll. Whoever did this was likely some combination of extremely strong, extremely angry, and/or extremely knowledgeable about how to break a human neck.”
Everyone was quiet for a few seconds after that. In that moment, Jessie thought about Jasper Otis, and wondered whether he was might be capable of such brutality. Considering what she knew people to be capable of, it didn’t seem like a stretch. Len Fustos finally broke the silence.
“If you’ll let me leave,” he said irritably, “I can try to get more definitive answers to some of these questions.”
Jessie nodded her acquiescence. That was all he needed to disappear from sight.
“So I guess we’re at an impasse,” Purcell said, trying to co-opt Fustos’s attitude.
Karen looked at him like she thought he might be kidding.
“Not quite,” she said. “I think we’d like to talk to the guy who found her. Got a name?”
“Sure,” he said. “But I don’t know that he’ll be of much use.”
“Why is that?” Jessie asked.
“When we spoke earlier he was so drunk or high or both that it was hard to get a coherent sentence out of him. He was also flipping out a little because of the whole ‘finding a dead body’ thing.”
“Well, maybe he’s sobered up a little in the interim,” Jessie suggested. “Do you have his address?”
“Yeah, but you won’t need it,” he said.
“Why not?” Jessie asked.
“Because unless something has changed, he’s about five hundred yards from here, passed out in a guest house.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Cord Mahoney looked dead.
Apart from the slight whistle he made as he exhaled, there was no visible indication that he was any better off than Millicent Estrada. His body was stiff. His skin was waxy and because he was under the covers, there was no sign of his chest rising and falling. Jessie decided to make sure.
“Wake up, Cord!”
He shot bolt upright, flailing around wildly as he lost his balance and toppled off the valentine-shaped bed. Karen put her hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle. Detective Purcell scowled at her, and Matilda gasped softly. While they all waited for him to gather his wits, Jessie again marveled at the style of the guest house.
It had the look of a fairy tale cottage on the outside, complete with stucco exterior, a faux thatched wooden roof, and colorfully painted bricks around the window frames. But the wooden sign on the door reading “Love Shack” tipped her off that the inside might be a different story. The small living area was decorated with a bright pink leather couch. The walls were covered in photo stills that appeared to be from 1970s-era porn films.
The bedroom where they found Cord was barely large enough for the king