Page 16 of The Grave Artist
“Not necessarily the worst, but, sure, families come with built-in PPIs. Because that’s where we lower our defenses time after time. And, what’s more, loving somebody gives us inside information about the best way of getting under each other’s skin.”
She felt a gravitational tug toward following Selina’s suggestion to pursue her father’s murderer. Reflecting that she might even find somebasis for federal jurisdiction once she started digging. Title 18—the federal criminal code—was as complicated as the myths about ancient labyrinths Roberto had read to his daughters in their youth.
But determining that would take time.
And time was precious at the moment—now that they were operating on the assumption that the Honeymoon Killer was a serial perpetrator and could be poised to strike again.
She said to both men, “Let’s get started on that canvass. Where’s the widow?”
Tandy said, “At the Hollywood Crest.”
She rose and started for the door.
Pausing only once.
Her eyes were drawn back to the computer that contained the police investigation into her father’s death—a murder disguised as suicide.
Her gaze met Heron’s.
It was as if he were asking, Are you sure you don’t want to look into it?
Her response was: “HK’s out there somewhere, Heron. I want to find him. Now.”
Chapter 7
Being in the ever-dangerous job of law enforcement, where one strives for anonymity, Carmen never understood the appeal of selfies, especially if taken near the edge of a thirty-foot drop onto sharp rocks.
Which made the Honeymoon Killer’s setup for the murder a little suspicious from the beginning, in her mind. Natural selection was a rule of the universe, but people were not, in general, complete fools. Could Anthony Brock have gone for the photo on the precipice? Maybe. Was it likely? No. Responding officers probably should have been a bit more suspicious.
She, Heron and Frank Tandy were at the opulent Hollywood Crest Inn, which dated to the era of old Hollywood—a time she knew mostly from artifacts likeChinatown, Humphrey Bogart movies and the gritty fiction of James Ellroy and Raymond Chandler. She was peering over the guardrail where the groom, Anthony Brock, had been pushed to his death.
Tandy told them about his conversation with the responding emergency medical techs.
“One of them had said, ‘What was he thinking?’
“‘Thinking?’ a seasoned cop had replied without missing a beat. ‘The better question is, What was hedrinking?’”
Clever, and typical of the dark humor of those for whom death and violence were a daily fact of life.
Now they knew the truth, of course. It wasn’t a drunken misstep.
Or, as Declan would have it, 96.5 percent truth.
The upper patio, where Brock and his bride had sneaked away after the reception, was roped off with yellow tape. The LAPD had worked fast, she was pleased to see. This was half of the homicide scene. The other was the pond below. She noted that the patio had been closed by the hotel—sandwich board signs proclaimedUnder Construction—presumably so guests would not be troubled by the fluttering tape.
She got a text and read it aloud. “Tox shows no drugs. BAC is .12.”
“The ME didn’t conduct an autopsy,” Tandy said. “But I found out she did a basic screen on the victim and asked for the results to be sent to Agent Sanchez. Now we know HK didn’t use poison or narcotics.”
Carmen considered the rest of the message. “And with a blood alcohol content of .12, Brock would be legally intoxicated, but that wouldn’t be enough to qualify him for an extreme DUI charge if he’d been driving.”
Tandy summarized: “In other words, he was drunk but not shit-faced.”
Looking at the water below, at the huge, slow-moving fish, brown, white, yellow, Carmen explained that alcohol had still contributed to Brock’s death. Not because he’d made a poor decision taking a selfie near a cliff—which he didn’t—but because his level of inebriation would mean the blow to the back of his head would render him even more helpless than if he’d been sober.
She thought a moment, then added, “We’ve been thinking HK targets weddings because of the newlywed thing, but maybe it’s because people are drinking, and he needs them in that state.”
Tandy turned to Heron. “Let’s put it on the murder board.”
