by Chris Carter
They paused as they reached the building. ‘And where’s that?’
‘Culver City.’
Hunter acknowledged it and Garcia carried on.
‘She was a dedicated student, graduating a year later in the top five percent of her class. The Academy has a placement program, helping graduates find work. They got her an internship in a beauty spa called . . .’ Garcia turned to the next page. ‘Trilogy Day Spa, in Manhattan Beach.’
‘Where did she live then?’
‘Umm . . .’ Garcia quickly searched through the file. ‘She shared a house in South Bay with . . .’ His eyebrows bobbed up and down once. ‘None other than the person we’re here to see – Tanya Kaitlin.’
‘OK.’
‘Karen Ward was with Trilogy Day Spa for a year before taking a new job with a different beauty salon – Glique, located in Monterey Park.’
Hunter looked a little surprised. ‘Monterey Park? That’s quite a way from South Bay.’
‘No doubt,’ Garcia agreed, ‘but she didn’t commute. She relocated to Alhambra.’
‘Sharing again?’
Another quick scan of the file. ‘It doesn’t say, but I guess Tanya Kaitlin will be able to clear that for us.’
‘True.’
‘She spent another year with Glique, before changing jobs once again.’ Garcia locked eyes with Hunter. ‘You guessed it. New job. New part of town. New address.’
‘Where this time?’
‘Back to the Westside – Santa Monica. The new job was with a high-class beauty salon called . . . Burke Williams, on Third Street Promenade.’
‘And her new address?’
‘Appleton Way in Mar Vista.’
Garcia read on in silence for a moment before frowning.
‘What?’ Hunter asked.
‘Very fast change. She stayed with Burke Williams for only four months before moving on to a new spa, a place called True Beauty in Long Beach, on East Second Street.’
‘Her last job before she was murdered,’ Hunter said. He remembered Sergeant Velasquez mentioning the address.
‘That’s right,’ Garcia confirmed.
‘Anything about any relationships?’ Hunter asked. ‘Anybody she was seeing?’
Garcia leafed through the file pages. ‘Nothing.’
‘How about her reasons for any of the employment changes, does it say? Has any of the spas she worked at shut down? Was she laid off?’
More page flipping. ‘Nope. I’ve got nothing here, but I’d also be very interested to know. She’d been in LA for four years. One of those she spent studying, and in the next three she changed employment three times. OK,’ Garcia admitted, ‘not really unheard of, but she wasn’t skipping from odd job to odd job. She was trying to establish a career, and in the case of a cosmetologist, I’m sure that she would’ve been working hard to try to secure a regular clientele. Hard to do that when you’re moving around as much as she was and in a city as big as LA.’
Hunter agreed. ‘Same job, different employers, which indicates that she probably wasn’t being let go. If she were, she wouldn’t have found a new job so quickly because she’d lack references.’
Garcia agreed. ‘The decision to leave came from her, not her employers.’ He pressed his lips together in thought. ‘Looking at her employment history, I’d say that her first two job changes look pretty normal. First job – fresh out of the academy and an intern at Trilogy Day Spa. Internship over, it’s natural to go looking for growth, more money, better opportunities, whatever . . . cue her next employer, Glique. Location-wise – not great, but when you’re trying to kick-start a career you tend to make sacrifices. She spends a year in her new job before securing a position with a high-class beauty parlor in Santa Monica. Probably what she’d been striving for since qualifying as a cosmetologist.’
‘Nevertheless,’ Hunter added. ‘She stays with them for only four and a half months before moving on again.’
‘Barely a probation period,’ Garcia admitted. ‘But this time it doesn’t look like a step up the ladder. Why would she do that?’
Hunter made a ‘who knows’ face. ‘Running from something or someone?’
‘Could be.’
Hunter faced the building. ‘Maybe Tanya Kaitlin will be able to shed a light on more than just this crazy video-call thing.’
Eleven
Similar to what Hunter and Garcia had encountered at the front door to Karen Ward’s apartment block, security to Tanya Kaitlin’s building was also provided exclusively by a dated intercom entry system.
Hunter pressed the button to apartment 202 and was greeted by total silence. No clicking sound. No hiss. No beep. Nothing.
‘Is that thing working?’ Garcia asked.
‘Not sure, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it isn’t.’
Hunter moved a little closer, bringing his right ear to a couple of inches from the intercom speaker, and tried it again. Still he heard nothing to suggest that the system was working properly. As he took a step back and regarded the locking mechanism on the door, they both heard a static click come through the tiny speaker. It was followed by a barely audible female voice.
‘Yes?’
‘Ms. Kaitlin?’ Hunter asked. ‘Tanya Kaitlin?’
‘Yes.’
‘I’m Detective Robert Hunter with the LAPD, we spoke earlier over the phone?’
A couple of silent, memory-searching seconds went by.
‘Yes, yes, of course.’ Her voice sounded tired and defeated. ‘Please come in.’
A strident buzz rattled the heavy door before unlocking it with an even louder click. As they pushed it open, it screeched at the hinges.
‘Damn,’ Garcia commented. ‘It sounds like the door is being tortured. Somebody should put some oil on that.’
Once inside, access to all three floors was gained solely via a concrete stairwell that led to long, narrow, and poorly lit corridors.
‘Do we have anything on her?’ Hunter asked, his chin jerking upwards as they took the steps going up to the second floor.
‘Very little,’ Garcia replied, flipping over to the last page inside the blue file. ‘Tanya Kaitlin, twenty-three years old, born and raised right here in Los Angeles – Lakewood. The younger of two children. Father, deceased. Mother, suffers from Alzheimer’s and lives with her son in San Diego. Just like our victim – no criminal record. Ms. Kaitlin works as a cosmetologist at DuBunne Spa Club in Torrance. She attended the Academy of Beauty LA at the same time as Karen Ward. They graduated together and, as you know, shared a house in South Bay during their internship.’
‘Did they both do their internship at the same place?’
‘Nope. As I’ve told you, Karen Ward did hers at Trilogy Day Spa, while the academy arranged for Ms. Kaitlin to go to a place called Six Degrees, also in Manhattan Beach. Both of their internships lasted twelve months, but Tanya Kaitlin’s employment history after that is a lot more compact.’ Garcia lifted his left index finger. ‘Only one job, and that was – still is – with DuBunne Spa Club.’
‘How long has she been living here?’
‘Just over three years,’ Garcia confirmed. ‘This is where she moved to after leaving the house she shared with our victim.’
There were ten apartments per floor. Tanya Kaitlin’s flat was the first door on the right as they exited the well-worn staircase. A brown doormat just outside number 202 met all visitors with the words – THE NEIGHBORS HAVE BETTER STUFF.
Hunter and Garcia positioned themselves to the right and left of the door respectively. It was just one of those LAPD force-of-habits that they now did without even realizing they were doing it. There was no doorbell, so Garcia gave the door a couple of firm knocks. Ten still seconds elapsed before they heard slow and heavy footsteps approaching from inside, but as the footsteps neared the door, they stopped and everything went back to complete silence.
Outside, Hunter and Garcia exchanged a couple of curious looks.
Garcia shrugged and was a
bout to knock again when the door finally unlocked with two loud rotations of the key. It was then pulled back slowly, up to the allowance of the security chain.
Both detectives were forced to reposition themselves to be able to partially see the woman who had appeared through the sliver of open door. She kept the immediate lights switched off, cloaking most of her figure under shadows. All Hunter and Garcia could tell was that she looked to be about five-foot five.
‘Ms. Kaitlin?’ Hunter asked, tilting his head to one side, looking for a better angle. He didn’t find one.
Instead of uttering a vocal reply, Tanya Kaitlin sucked in a difficult breath through a clogged nose, following it with a subdued nod.
‘I’m Detective Hunter with the LAPD Robbery Homicide Division.’ Up came the credentials. ‘This is my partner, Detective Garcia.’
Her tired gaze moved from their faces to their identifications, and then back to them. She nodded once, releasing the security chain.
‘Please, come in,’ she said as she fully opened the door and took a step to her right. Light from the corridor outside fell over her, finally banishing her shadow coat.
Hunter’s eyes lingered on Tanya Kaitlin for only a couple of seconds. She looked like a human definition of distress. Deep dark circles framed a pair of puffed eyes that normally would’ve been pale blue but, due to total lack of sleep and countless hours of crying, looked a light shade of cherry-red. Her blonde hair had been tied back into a disheveled ponytail, from which wild strands fell by the sides of her face. Her sore-looking nose mimicked the redness in her eyes, and the skin on her forehead and cheeks looked just as dry as her lips. She wore a black and white bathrobe and no shoes. Her entire being smelled heavily of cigarettes.
‘Please come in,’ she repeated, guiding them into a living room that had been decorated on a budget, but with a lot of taste.
The flowery curtains that covered the balcony doors were drawn shut to almost completion, allowing only a weak breath of light through, just enough to keep the room from dying in darkness. Tanya indicated the sitting area by the east wall, where a blue sofa was accompanied by a couple of matching armchairs. A nearly empty pack of cigarettes sat on the glass coffee table that centered the seating suite. Next to it, an improvised pickle jar ashtray. The cigarette butts inside it had been smoked all the way to their filter. A couple of large scented candles burned at opposite ends of the room, their delicate aroma of vanilla and berries completely overpowered by the smell of cigarette smoke.
Hunter and Garcia followed Tanya inside, but waited for her to have a seat first. She took one of the armchairs, the one closest to the balcony. They took the sofa, which placed them directly in front of her.
As she sat down, Tanya pulled her bathrobe tighter around her, as if all of a sudden she had been disturbed by a cold gust of wind. Within seconds she seemed to have grown uncomfortable of her initial position, which saw her at the very edge of her seat. She shifted left then right before scooting back a few inches, all the while keeping her eyes low, aiming at her knees. She finally settled for sitting halfway up the cushion, with her back tense and away from the backrest, her shoulders hunched forward, her fingers interlaced together, and her hands thrown down between her knees.
‘Ms. Kaitlin,’ Hunter began, ‘we know how difficult this must be for you, and we’d like to thank you for seeing us and for your time. We’ll be as brief as we can.’
Tanya didn’t say anything. She didn’t look up either.
‘We understand that you and Karen Ward were best friends.’
A subtle head nod.
Another deep breath.
And then Tanya exploded into tears.
Hunter and Garcia had been through this same situation more times than they were able to remember. It never got easier. The best they could do was give her a moment.
Hunter got to his feet and disappeared into the kitchen. A couple of seconds later he resurfaced with a glass of sugary water.
‘Here,’ he said, coming up to Tanya. ‘Have some of this. It will make you feel a little better.’
Her hands had moved to her face; in a matter of seconds, crying had escalated into sobbing.
Both detectives waited.
‘I don’t understand . . . I just don’t . . .’ she said in between deep sobs.
‘Here, Ms. Kaitlin,’ Hunter tried again. ‘Just a couple of sips. It really will make you feel better.’
After a new series of deep breaths, Tanya finally let go of her face. Her gaze found Hunter and she reached for the water.
‘Thank you.’
Hunter gave her a sympathetic smile.
She had the tiniest of sips and motioned to place the glass down on the coffee table. Garcia moved forward on his seat.
‘Just a little bit more, Ms. Kaitlin,’ he urged her. ‘It will help, I promise you.’
She hesitated for a long moment before giving in and bringing the glass back to her lips. This time she had three human-sized sips.
‘Please, call me Tanya,’ she said as she placed the glass down. ‘And, yes – Karen and I were best friends.’
Before returning to his seat, Hunter handed Tanya a paper tissue.
She thanked him again and dabbed one of its ends against the corner of her eyes. Her gaze moved to the pack of cigarettes on the table and, maybe due to her grief, she felt the need to explain.
‘It’s been over two years since I lit up one of those.’ She chuckled apprehensively. ‘That was my emergency pack.’ The corners of her lips arched up a little, but not enough to produce a smile. ‘Do you smoke?’ she asked.
‘No.’ The reply from both detectives came in unison.
‘Have you ever?’
Garcia shook his head.
‘A very long time ago,’ Hunter replied.
‘A lot of ex-smokers I know keep an emergency pack hidden somewhere, just in case the nerves really get out of hand for one reason or another. I came close to cracking the seal on that pack a few times in the past couple of years, but I did good . . . until last night.’ She looked away for a moment. ‘I’m not really supposed to smoke in here, and if I could handle the brightness outside I would’ve smoked out on the balcony, but . . .’ She let the sentence hang in the air as she shook her head. ‘Funny how everything that tastes good or makes you feel good, turns out to be really bad for you, isn’t it?’
Hunter smiled at her again. The sugary water was starting to take effect. She ran her tongue across her dried lips and looked back at the detectives as if saying, ‘I’m ready’.
‘Tanya,’ Hunter said in a calm and steady voice, establishing eye contact, ‘I know this will be hard, so please take as long as you need, but could you tell us about this video-call you received last night, in as much detail as you can remember?’
Tanya’s stare returned to the coffee table and she reached for the glass again. Two more large sips were followed by a heavy pause, and then her stare became distant, focusing on nothing at all.
‘OK,’ she finally said.
Hunter and Garcia readied their notepads.
Tanya began her story from the time she stepped out of the shower.
Twelve
Hunter and Garcia listened to Tanya’s account of events in almost complete silence. They only interrupted her a couple of times, either to clarify a point, or to try to calm her down during the moments when the memory had become so vivid in her mind she had come close to becoming hysterical.
As she told them about how the call had ended, Tanya once again found herself fighting the urge to be sick. She reached for the cigarette pack on the table, and with a trembling hand brought its very last one to her lips, but even with the combined calming effect of sugary water and nicotine, Tanya’s nerves managed to get the best of her and she once again broke down into a fit of tears.
Hunter handed her a new paper tissue.
Throughout the nearly twenty minutes that it took Tanya to recount the details of the video-call she’d received, Hun
ter had been paying close attention not only to her words, but also to her body and eye movements, together with her facial expressions. Yes, she did have tell signs: the nervous hand up to her face every so often, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear; the uneasy shake of the head every time she related something that she found hard to believe – and there were many of those – and the picking of the fingernails; but those weren’t lie tale signs, they were fear ones. What she had experienced had truly petrified her.
Garcia brought Tanya a new glass of sugary water, and this time she needed no incentive, finishing the whole glass in three large gulps.
When she looked like she had calmed down enough, Garcia asked the first question.
‘You told us that when the caller reached for Ms. Ward’s phone to end the call, the phone panned upwards intentionally, and you got to see the caller’s face, is that right?’
Tanya sucked in another lumpy breath.
‘Yes, but it wasn’t a face.’
Garcia frowned.
‘I’m sorry?’
‘It was a mask. Some sort of sick horror mask.’
Garcia quickly glanced at Hunter before scooting up to the edge of his seat. ‘I know this is going to be hard for you, Tanya, and I apologize for having to ask you to try and bring those images back into your mind, but do you remember any of its details? Could you try to describe this mask to us?’
Tanya locked eyes with Garcia. ‘Remember it? I’ll never be able to forget it for as long as I live.’ She brought her right index finger up to the right corner of her mouth. ‘There was this large open cut on the side of his face, going from here to here.’ She dragged her finger from her mouth, across her cheek and all the way up to her right ear. ‘Like a lopsided, horror-clown smile, and you could see his teeth through it, but they weren’t like human teeth. They were these enormous, sharp, pointy teeth, with blood smeared all over them. It was smeared all over his mouth and chin too.’
She paused for breath, clearly struggling with the images her memory was throwing at her.
‘The other corner of his mouth wasn’t cut, but it was all droopy and deformed out of shape.’