confident than she had been for years. She caught a glimpse of her reflection in the grocery store window as she passed and didn’t even notice the rows of liquor bottles, so intent was she on admiring herself. It was another day, and she had moved on faster than she could ever have anticipated or believed possible.
CHAPTER 3
C APTAIN ROONEY looked over the reports and statements from the various officers. They were, as he had half expected, of little use. The cab driver had given them a bum address and nobody had located the bloodstained woman with only one shoe. She had disappeared — could even be dead. The Summerses had been questioned again to see if they could match the description from the anonymous caller. He was similar, they said, but they were not too clear about the driver of the vehicle. When shown a photograph of Norman Hastings, they were sure that it was not him. Rooney doodled over his notebook.
He wondered again if they were looking for two killers, the man and the blonde woman working together. They had killed Hastings and then had an argument — maybe they had come to blows inside the car at the shopping mall. The woman subsequently made the anonymous phone call describing her partner, husband or lover… But if that was so, she would have known the killer’s height and could even have given his name, although that might have incriminated her, too. Rooney concluded that the woman was probably not involved in the murder and did not know the killer’s name or height because she was, as he had first thought, a prostitute the driver had picked up.
The missing blonde woman had become a vital witness to the murder of Norman Hastings. Somebody out there knew who she was. A man and a woman had helped her out of the cab; the man had even paid her fare. Rooney instructed his officers to step up the search for her, and called in the two officers Lorraine had met earlier.
He checked over all the statements they had taken. They were convinced that no one had lied. They thought the cab driver might have been mistaken. ‘We saw only one blonde woman, Captain — but she’d got all her teeth, her hair was short and she was real smart, just staying with her friend. She didn’t look like a whore or the type to know one.’
Rooney told them to question everybody once more. Seeing them exchange covert, bored looks, Rooney snapped, ‘Get the cab driver to go with you, if needs be. Go on, get moving!’
The two men had just reached the office door when Josh Bean walked in. ‘You better look at this, Captain.’
Rooney reached out his podgy hand for the internal fax sheet. Bean gave the nod for the two men to leave the room, but to wait outside. Rooney looked up. ‘We’d better check this out. Looks like our missing girl.’
He snatched up his jacket, told the two officers they could go off duty. If the new information panned out, they had just found their star witness.
The run-down apartment block was a graffiti jungle. Burned-out cars littered the disused yard and every window was smashed. The Paradise Apartments billboard, showing palm trees and a semi-naked girl sunbathing, was peeling and covered in daubed slogans.
Rooney stepped under the obligatory yellow tape to join the group gathered round the covered corpse. There were five patrol cars, lights blinking, and a horde of officers assembled to protect the men in this notorious down-town area. Groups of kids were hanging around watching avidly. This wasn’t unusual in the middle of the day as most of them never bothered to attend school for more than one or two days a week, if that. This was crack-dealer territory. The kids on their BMX bikes more than likely had shooters stuck up their fashionable jackets.
‘Who found her?’ Rooney asked as he neared the corpse.
That kid over there, one with the red hat on, but he must have had help to drag her from the trunk of the car. That’s been there for weeks, by the way, the car not the
CHAPTER 3
C APTAIN ROONEY looked over the reports and statements from the various officers. They were, as he had half expected, of little use. The cab driver had given them a bum address and nobody had located the bloodstained woman with only one shoe. She had disappeared — could even be dead. The Summerses had been questioned again to see if they could match the description from the anonymous caller. He was similar, they said, but they were not too clear about the driver of the vehicle. When shown a photograph of Norman Hastings, they were sure that it was not him. Rooney doodled over his notebook.
He wondered again if they were looking for two killers, the man and the blonde woman working together. They had killed Hastings and then had an argument — maybe they had come to blows inside the car at the shopping mall. The woman subsequently made the anonymous phone call describing her partner, husband or lover… But if that was so, she would have known the killer’s height and could even have given his name, although that might have incriminated her, too. Rooney concluded that the woman was probably not involved in the murder and did not know the killer’s name or height because she was, as he had first thought, a prostitute the driver had picked up.
The missing blonde woman had become a vital witness to the murder of Norman Hastings. Somebody out there knew who she was. A man and a woman had helped her out of the cab; the man had even paid her fare. Rooney instructed his officers to step up the search for her, and called in the two officers Lorraine had met earlier.
He checked over all the statements they had taken. They were convinced that no one had lied. They thought the cab driver might have been mistaken. ‘We saw only one blonde woman, Captain — but she’d got all her teeth, her hair was short and she was real smart, just staying with her friend. She didn’t look like a whore or the type to know one.’
Rooney told them to question everybody once more. Seeing them exchange covert, bored looks, Rooney snapped, ‘Get the cab driver to go with you, if needs be. Go on, get moving!’
The two men had just reached the office door when Josh Bean walked in. ‘You better look at this, Captain.’
Rooney reached out his podgy hand for the internal fax sheet. Bean gave the nod for the two men to leave the room, but to wait outside. Rooney looked up. ‘We’d better check this out. Looks like our missing girl.’
He snatched up his jacket, told the two officers they could go off duty. If the new information panned out, they had just found their star witness.
The run-down apartment block was a graffiti jungle. Burned-out cars littered the disused yard and every window was smashed. The Paradise Apartments billboard, showing palm trees and a semi-naked girl sunbathing, was peeling and covered in daubed slogans.
Rooney stepped under the obligatory yellow tape to join the group gathered round the covered corpse. There were five patrol cars, lights blinking, and a horde of officers assembled to protect the men in this notorious down-town area. Groups of kids were hanging around watching avidly. This wasn’t unusual in the middle of the day as most of them never bothered to attend school for more than one or two days a week, if that. This was crack-dealer territory. The kids on their BMX bikes more than likely had shooters stuck up their fashionable jackets.
‘Who found her?’ Rooney asked as he neared the corpse.
That kid over there, one with the red hat on, but he must have had help to drag her from the trunk of the car. That’s been there for weeks, by the way, the car not the
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