by Hangman
And yet here Mandy was, embroiled in a scheme that would certainly end in her being sentenced to do hard time, and maybe forever. Why did she agree to go along with Garth’s plans? How did he convince her to participate in such horrible things?
“He’d…expose me,” she told him.
The BP monitor beeped loudly. Decker knew he was working on borrowed time. “But you knew it would come out, Mandy. That you gave Adrianna Pavulon. Why compound your mistake? Why not just go to the police? That was your first instinct and it was a good one.”
“It wasn’t just Adrianna,” she moaned. “It was the other…he’d expose me.”
Decker said, “You mean the snapshots of you in leather?”
Again, the BP monitor started beeping. She was silent.
Decker took a logical guess. “And there were sex tapes, too.”
“He’d…expose me.”
The nurse came in. Again, he was asked to leave.
Decker was going back to L.A. in a few hours. It was now or not for a long time. He said, “Who took the pictures and the tapes, Mandy? It might help your case down the road. It’s important that we know.”
“Crystal Larabee,” Mandy whispered. “The bitch…”
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
AT SEVEN IN the morning, Decker thought he’d have the squad room to himself, but Wanda Bontemps was already at her desk, her attention focused on the computer. She didn’t even look up when he came through the door.
“Good morning,” Decker said, out loud.
Wanda greeted him with a smile that opened up her face. It wasn’t one of those “nice day, isn’t it” kind of looks, but a “we got the bastard” grin. “Have a minute?”
Decker motioned her into his office. Wanda was wearing a hunter green blouse and black slacks, with Vans on her feet. Under her arm was a case folder. He closed the door and the two of them sat down. “What do you have for me?”
She laid the papers on his desk. “A copy of Roxanne Holly’s homicide file.”
“It’s very thick. Want to cover the highlights?”
“You’ve got it.” Wanda took out her notes. “According to Roxanne Holly’s roommate, Latitia Bohem, Roxanne went out for drinks at a local restaurant called El Gaucho and never returned. The place was about four blocks from Roxanne’s apartment. Lots of locals go there. It was a balmy night, so she decided to walk.”
“Alone and in the dark?”
“Yes.”
“Never a good idea.”
“It wasn’t in her case. After her body was discovered, the bartender and waitresses on staff that night were interviewed. They put Roxanne in the restaurant from about ten to midnight, but it was crowded enough that no one really remembered exactly when she left. The place closes at one.”
“So how do they know she left at midnight?”
“Her tab was paid around twelve. She could have lingered longer, but let’s assume she left around that time. The bartender did recall her talking to people—guys and gals. She seemed to be having a good time. There was nothing mentioned in the case files about servicemen or anyone in a uniform.”
“That could be a dead end.”
“Agreed. The detectives returned to El Gaucho several days later for a second round of interviews with the staff and local patrons. Among those who remembered Roxanne being there was a guy named Chuck Tinsley.”
“Whoa!” Decker was amazed. Things didn’t routinely fall that way. “Go on.”
“Chuck was working at a lumberyard. He was living about six blocks from the El Gaucho and ten blocks away from Roxanne’s apartment when she was murdered.”
Decker raised a brow. “What did Chuck have to say for himself in the files?”
“He claimed he knew her from the area, maybe talked to her a couple of times at El Gaucho. Casual kind of thing. The kicker is that a patron recalled them talking the night that Roxanne disappeared.”
“That’s indeed notable.”
“Chuck’s alibi was that he was at the restaurant until the bar closed up. And that was verified by the bartender.”
“So he’s saying that if Roxanne was attacked at twelve, it couldn’t have been him because he was still at the place until one in the morning.”
“Exactly. But if things were busy and no one remembered Roxanne leaving, Tinsley could have easily left and come back. I mean honestly, Loo, what was he doing with Roxanne’s necklace?”
Decker thought a moment. “Maybe we’ll be lucky enough to pull some DNA off the hair and it’ll be a match with Roxanne. Then we can say that Tinsley had her necklace. It’s still circumstantial.”
“A little more than circumstantial.”
“Sure. Putting Chuck in the vicinity is both good and bad. You can make a case that Tinsley was involved with her murder. Or you can make a case that Tinsley found her body after she was dead and ripped the necklace off her neck.” When Wanda gave him a look, Decker said, “It’s what his attorney will say.”
Wanda said, “Remember the primary suspect, Burt Barney?”
“The homeless guy who found the body.”
“Yes. Oxnard police grilled him for hours. They asked him over and over what he did with the necklace. He never gave it up, Loo. He swore he didn’t kill Roxanne, and when he found the body, there was no necklace.”
“A lawyer could say that Tinsley took the necklace before Barney found her.”
“That’s stretching.” Wanda threw her arms open.
“We need beyond a reasonable doubt and this is my problem. Tinsley looked like a potential serial killer when we thought he had something to do with Adrianna Blanc’s murder. But we know what happened to Adrianna and Crystal, and Tinsley didn’t have anything to do with them. That was Garth Hammerling.” A pause. “Who is also a serial killer.”
Wanda shook her head. “How many serial killers have you come across in your career?”
“In my thirty years of police work including Florida, I have dealt with three serial killers, although one case was iffy because there were charges against him for only one murder. It was just suspected that he may have done others. They’re out there for sure, but not with the frequency portrayed in the media. To have one serial killer involved as a witness in a murder case committed by another serial killer is crazy. That’s why we need to proceed slowly…so we don’t make a mistake.”
“So what do we do with Tinsley?”
“If we get Roxanne’s DNA off of the necklace, we can arrest Tinsley on stolen property—which is how he’s going to plead. He saw Roxanne’s body in the open lot and made a bad decision. It would be great to find a witness who saw Chuck and Roxanne leave together. Anyone in the files look promising?”
“I have to reread the pages.”
“You might want to check out Tinsley’s buddies at the time. Maybe he confessed to someone, although if he truly is a serial killer, I’d have my doubts.”
“I’ll go over the files again.”
“What’s going on with Lee Wang and Oceanside PD?”
“He’s still looking. We’ve sent the ring found in Tinsley’s possession to the lab. Maybe we’ll get lucky and get a DNA match for Erin Greenfield.”
“Was Tinsley in Oceanside at the time Greenfield was murdered?”
“I don’t know. I’ll call up Lee and compare notes.”
“One piece of jewelry is circumstantial,” Decker said. “Two pieces with DNA that matches two murdered girls can’t be explained away easily. Right now all we can do is cross our fingers and put our faith in science.”
AFTER THREE WEEKS in the hospital, Jacqueline Mars, the sixteen-year-old runaway whom Garth and Mandy had abducted, strangled, and wrapped up in a garbage bag, had recovered sufficiently to be discharged from the hospital. Unfortunately, her memory of what happened during the period of time in question was even fuzzier than Mandy Kowalski’s. At present, she still has no recollection of those fateful days she spent in a stupor.
Mandy Kowalski was arrested for the first-
degree murder of Adrianna Blanc, and the attempted murder of Jacqueline Mars. She escaped charges in the murder of Crystal Larabee. She is assumed innocent of all the charges until proven guilty.
After the news about Garth Hammerling and Mandy Kowalski’s drug-induced crime spree broke open, St. Tim’s started examining routine deaths that had taken place during their shifts. Mandy’s cases came up clean, but there were several suspicious deaths during Hammerling’s years of employment. One month after the grisly discoveries at Hammerling’s Vegas condo, those hospital cases that Garth handled still remained under investigation.
Decker finally did receive a copy of the tox report on Adrianna Blanc. It took a little longer than usual because the pathologist had to reorder a blood screen for Pavulon. And while the drug was found in her system—and might have killed her—the amount in her blood was not considered a lethal dose. A more likely case was that Adrianna was alive but paralyzed when Garth had strung her from the rafters at the construction site. The coroner’s ruling was death by asphyxiation from the hanging.
It could have been that Garth genuinely thought she was dead. But Decker and his detectives thought otherwise. They all concluded that even if Garth had known that Adrianna was still alive, he would have followed through with his plans. As evidenced by Crystal Larabee and the two bodies and piles of bones found in his Vegas house, Garth simply enjoyed killing.
Six weeks after Tinsley’s jewelry pieces were sent to the lab for DNA, the reports came back to the police with distinct DNA profiles. The necklace contained Tinsley’s DNA as well as DNA from a hair root that belonged to Roxanne Holly. The ring took a while longer because of the scant biological evidence. The tests involved repeating the same sample of DNA over and over. Eventually two profiles were extracted: Tinsley’s and that of Erin Greenfield.
Chuck Tinsley was arrested the following day. The timing couldn’t have been better for Lydia and Nathan Grossman, the property owners. They had just passed final inspection.
The murders of Roxanne Holly and Erin Greenfield had taken place outside Decker’s jurisdiction. He was aching to be part of Tinsley’s interrogations, but the whole thing became moot once Tinsley asked for a lawyer.
Although there was cause for a cautious celebration in Tinsley’s arrest, there were also problems. Tinsley had allowed the detectives to search his apartment, but that was only in regard to gathering evidence in the Adrianna Blanc case. The jewelry, his lawyers pleaded, was inadmissible because it had nothing to do with Adrianna Blanc. And without the jewelry, there was no case against Tinsley in the Holly and Greenfield homicides.
The district attorney argued that the police had taken the pieces with Charles Tinsley’s permission in order to see if any of them belonged to Adrianna Blanc. When the two pieces showed up in the files as identical to jewelry belonging to two other murdered women, it would have been negligent not to test them for DNA. And since the jewelry was obtained with Mr. Tinsley’s permission, nothing illegal was done.
After many continuances, the first judge sided with the D.A. The jewelry was admissible. Tinsley’s legal team appealed. Months later, the appellate judge sided with the first judge. First-degree murder charges were levied against Charles Michael Tinsley for the deaths of Roxanne Holly and Erin Greenfield. Tinsley is presumed innocent until proven guilty.
Garth Willard Hammerling still remains at large. Anyone having information to his whereabouts is requested to call the Los Angeles Police Department and/or the North Las Vegas Police Department.
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
WHEN TRAUMA HIT, Gabe did what he always did.
He adjusted.
His father never did call him back. Gabe stored the papers in his closet, figuring he’d hear from the old man sooner or later. He proceeded to go about his business. Within a week’s time, Rina found him a permanent tutor so he could be homeschooled. He finished tenth grade in a month. The only thing he couldn’t pick up from the tutor was his language courses, but even that turned out to be okay. Rina spoke Yiddish, so he was able to practice his German with her. The Loo spoke Spanish, which Gabe picked up in a heartbeat. And while it wasn’t the same as Italian, it was close enough to keep his ear trained.
Whenever he had spare time, he’d take in concerts and operas. A couple of times, Hannah went with him. Other times, he went by himself. He loved opera—the primary reason he wanted to learn German and Italian. He wanted to figure out how to mix the words with music, and the only way to do that was to speak the language of the libretto.
Most of his time was spent at the piano. His music had always been his lifeline, but there was always something desperate and rushed in the way he played. After living with the Deckers and taking lessons with Nicholas Mark, Gabe discovered actual joy in learning. Every meeting with Mark put him one step closer to being a real pianist. He could move a little slower, listen a little more carefully, linger at the keyboard a little longer because for the first time, he was living with predictability. Everything was on time and without drama. Not that there was anything wrong with drama, but it was better handled in the arts than in real life. He had always had freedom, but now he had freedom without fear. The autonomy made him generous. He often came with Hannah to her choir practice to accompany the singers—just to be nice. As graduation approached, Mrs. Kent had begged him to play something special for the evening. After much cajoling from her and from Hannah, he relented.
Why the hell not?
Originally he decided to do something technically challenging like Rachmaninoff—something that would wow an audience. But thirty minutes before the actual ceremony was to begin, he changed his mind.
This wasn’t a piano concert: it was a celebration. People were happy. Some parents actually loved their children and took pride in their accomplishments.
At the last moment, he found a working computer and printer in the synagogue where the graduation ceremony was to take place and downloaded eighteen pages of Liszt’s Hungarian Rhapsody no. 2 in C-sharp minor. It was a familiar piece to him and to most people because it was used in all the old cartoons whenever there was a chase. He knew he could sight read it without problems. When he was due to play, he lined up the first five sheets of paper on the piano stand, and had Mrs. Kent feed him the next one as he brushed away each used sheet onto the floor. With the papers flying about, especially at the end with tempo going at lightning speed, it had an unintentional comical effect which he incorporated with great flair. Everyone was laughing. He had made a happy audience even happier. He learned another important lesson. Playing in public wasn’t just about skill, it was about entertainment.
He never stopped thinking about his parents. It was wrong to compare them to the Deckers, but he did it anyway. He used to rationalize that their crazy behavior stemmed from their deep profundity. That was total horseshit. The Deckers were stable people, and just as—if not more—complex than his mom and dad.
Rina and the Loo had taken him in with grace and made him a part of their lives. It was brought home to him when they insisted he come with them to New York for Sammy’s medical school graduation. They included him in Sammy’s wedding. They also took him to Israel when they moved Hannah into seminary: paid for his ticket, gave him his own hotel room and his own personal tour guide. He and the guide went everywhere around the Holy Land as well as Petra in Jordon and the pyramids in Egypt. He explored ancient civilizations, finding out that the cliché was still true; it was a whole big world out there.
Neither of the Deckers tried to be a substitute parent. They were facilitators, and because they were kind, he tried not to be a pain in the ass. No, Rina was not his mother and the Loo was not his father. But truth be told, he knew at this stage in his life that it was far better to have Rina and the Loo than Mom and Dad.
BY MID-NOVEMBER, NEW York was awash in freezing rain while Chicago was experiencing its first snowfall. L.A., on the other hand, was clear skies and sunshine. The air had turned colder but it was far from cold and there
was still color left on some of the trees. But what surprised Gabe was that the city was still green. Back east, the chill of fall was turning into the frost of winter. But Rina had a garden. It was weird.
But not as weird as the phone call from his dad. Chris’s voice was a monotone. “You have papers that belong to me.”
No introduction. Gabe had been expecting the call, but his father’s voice always made him stumble. “I do,” he answered. “Where should I mail them?”
“I don’t trust the mail. I’ll come to L.A. and pick them up. Besides, I’d like to see you. What’s your schedule like?”
“Aside from Mondays and Thursday from ten to twelve, I’m completely open.”
Donatti paused. “You dropped out of school?”
“Rina set me up with a tutor. I’m being homeschooled, which is great. I should be done with high school by next June.”
“I haven’t seen any tutoring bill on your credit card.”
“It’s a couple of hours every week, Chris. I pay in cash.”
“What’s going on between ten and twelve on Mondays and Thursdays?”
“I have my piano lessons with Nick at USC.”
A pause. “Nick as in Nicholas Mark?”
Donatti sounded a little peeved. Gabe smiled. “You’re welcome to sit in and see him bust my balls.”
“You should be used to that.”
“He’s a piece of cake compared to you.”
“No need to get nasty. I’ll be by tomorrow at two.”
Tomorrow was Thursday. Gabe said, “I can’t make it home by two on a bus. You could meet me at SC.”
“We’ll meet at SC. I’ll call you when I get there.” Donatti hung up.
According to Gabe’s phone, the conversation had lasted one minute and twenty-eight seconds. Nothing remarkable had transpired, but one sentence rang in his brain.