through which the heart and lungs, relatively undamaged, were visible.
'Quite a view, huh?' Dodge smiled. He was getting used to the smell. 'It’s like those models they use in science class-the transparent guy with all his guts showing through.'
'You’re just chock-full of analogies this morning.' Bradley swallowed. 'What’s weird is that his internals look pretty much intact. I mean, outside he’s a toasted marshmallow, and inside he’s still in one piece.'
Dodge nodded. 'That’s normal. Body fluids prevent the inner organs from reaching the same temperature as the skin.'
'How do you know all this?'
'Experience,' Dodge said shortly. He didn’t bother explaining that one of his first homicide cases had involved a teenager who’d set his parents’ mobile home on fire, with them inside. They hadn’t let him get a tattoo. He’d been a little upset about it.
'And your experience tells you this is a crime scene?' Bradley asked.
Dodge hesitated. He knew the kid had been cooking meth. But it would be easier to call it an accident and let it go. Easier on the school, the kids’ parents, and most of all, himself.
But there was the media angle. College brat supplements his folks’ handouts by turning school property into meth house. Blows up his worthless ass-or gets his ass blown up by pissed-off street rivals who don’t like competition.
That was a story. Myron Levine would pay decent bucks for it, because the college was in Westwood-and Westwood was 'affluent.'
'Yeah,' Dodge said, calculating what he could squeeze out of Levine for inside details on this case, 'it’s a crime scene.'
Bradley looked away. 'Hope you’re wrong.'
'Why? What difference does it make?'
'Maybe just because…well, because this would be a real bad way for an innocent kid to die.'
Dodge couldn’t argue with that. But what Bradley didn’t understand, even after eighteen years on the street, was that nobody was innocent. Everybody was into something. Everybody was corrupt, tainted, dirty. Some were honest about it, and some put on an act-but no one was clean, ever.
The vic, whether Scott Maple or someone else, had been involved in something ugly. No matter how Dodge looked at it, this case was a whodunit.
And even if it ended up making him some money, it was going to fuck up his weekend, that was for goddamn sure.
19
The low buzzing of her cell phone startled Tess out of a deep sleep. She looked at the bedside clock-the digital readout said it was 6:47 A.M.-then fumbled for the phone, kept in her purse on the nightstand. She dropped it, had to grope for it under the bed, and finally managed to answer.
'McCallum,' she said.
'What the hell’s going on with you? I had to let your damn phone ring fifteen times.' It was the unmistakable, slightly nasal, ever-welcome voice of the Nose.
'I’m a sound sleeper,' she told Michaelson.
'Then you might want to consider turning up the goddamned volume on your phone.'
'I wasn’t expecting any calls.'
'You weren’t expecting any calls. Perfect. Then I guess you weren’t expecting another dead body. But guess what? We’ve got one.'
She sat up. 'Where?'
'MiraMist Hotel, Santa Monica. Be there ASAP if you don’t want to get shipped back to Denver on the next flight.'
She really disliked this man. 'I’ll be there,' she said tightly.
'That’s big of you. Oh, and, McCallum? You ever make me wait more than five rings to get through to you again, I’ll have your ass.'
Click. He was gone.
She had fallen asleep fully dressed and had no time to change. Quickly she ran a toothbrush over her teeth and gums to get rid of the morning taste, then placed a DO NOT DISTURB sign on her door. There was a chance she would have time to come back for a quick shower later this morning, and she didn’t want the maid busy in the room. She could live with an unmade bed, anyway.
Before leaving, she switched on the air conditioner, setting the thermostat to seventy-two degrees. The room was getting stuffy, and the day was already warm.
Tess met Andrus in the lobby of the MiraMist. 'Sorry,' the AD said, 'you can’t go up there just yet.'
'Why not?' She had rushed in from the Valley, violating every municipal traffic law at least twice. The last thing she’d expected was a delay in visiting the crime scene.
'Michaelson called you too soon. He should have waited.'
'Waited for what? Where is he, anyway?'
'Still on his way over. Look, grab some breakfast, relax for a while-'
'Relax? I’m not in the mood to relax. One of these rooms is a crime scene, and I want to look at it.'
'Not yet. It’s…off-limits.' Andrus said it with a light flutter of his eyelids that told her he was concealing something.
She drew him aside, into a shadowed alcove. 'What’s up, Gerry?'
Using his first name was a signal. It meant they could talk as friends, not bureaucrats. But he merely looked away.
'Just be patient, Tess. Things are taking a little longer upstairs than expected.'
'What things? You mean somebody’s already up there?'
'Another investigative team is working the room.'
' Another team? This is a RAVENKIL crime scene.'
'It’s more than that.'
'More? Come on, Gerry, I have a right to know what’s going on. I’m part of the task force.'
'You’re part of it because I pulled rank to violate bureau policy and bring you here. Don’t make me rethink that decision.'
There was steel in his eyes, as chilly as the steel temples of his eyeglasses. Tess took a step back.
'You can’t take me off this investigation.'
'I wouldn’t want to.' His voice was noncommittal.
'No, I’m saying you can’t.'
'Your personal feelings-'
'My personal feelings are not the issue. He sent me a new postcard, remember? He’s been in contact with me. Has he made contact with anyone else?'
The question was unnecessary. She took Andrus’s silence as her answer.
'Exactly. Which is why you need me working this case. So don’t try to threaten me, and don’t act like you’ve done me a favor bringing me to LA. Violating bureau policy…We’re dealing with a multiple lust murderer, and bureau policy is to catch him, and that’s why I’m here.'
Andrus stared past her, his jaw working silently, and Tess wondered if she’d pushed too hard. Everything she’d said was true-but there was some truth on his side, as well. Under normal circumstances she would not have been part of this detail. Andrus had expended some of his carefully hoarded political capital to get her to LA. The fact that he’d done it out of self-interest, in the knowledge that a resolution of the case would reflect well on his leadership of the LA office, didn’t mitigate the debt she owed him.
'Things are complicated, Tess,' he said finally. 'I’m not at liberty to go into all the ins and outs. Let’s just say that I do need you on the task force-you’re right about that-but I need the cooperation of other elements within the bureau, as well.'
