'Joking. I get it. Funny. But seriously, I just landed this new account. They're looking for distinguished, mature women. You should come in, take some test shots.'
'What's the company?'
'Ever-Weave.'
I confessed to never hearing of them.
'They sell protective undergarments. You know, adult-sized diapers.'
Fuller chortled, deep and throaty. I dismissed him.
'Think it over. You wouldn't have to pose wearing the product. You just have to stand there, looking embarrassed.'
No kidding.
'I don't think I'm quite ready to delve into the glamorous world of modeling, Mr. Pulitzer. Come in and have a seat.'
Pulitzer and Herb exchanged greetings, and then he sat in a chair between us on the right side of the desk.
'So, where's Davi?'
Herb handed Pulitzer the mug shot.
'This is Davi McCormick?'
'Yeah. Oh, Christ, she's in trouble, isn't she? What did she do? Has she called a lawyer yet?'
Pulitzer pulled out a cell phone the size of a matchbook and flipped it open, dialing with his pinky.
'She doesn't need a lawyer, Mr. Pulitzer. The county medical examiner found Davi's severed arms in the morgue yesterday morning.'
'Her . . . arms?'
Herb handed him another picture. Pulitzer lost all color.
'Oh shit! Those are Davi's? Shit! What the hell happened to her?'
'When was the last time you spoke with Davi?'
'Four days ago. We did lunch at Wildfire. Right after that I had to catch a flight to New York.'
'What did you talk about during lunch?'
'The usual stuff. Upcoming gigs. Auditions.'
'Did Davi seem nervous, or afraid?'
'No, everything was completely normal.'
Herb and I took turns interrogating Pulitzer. We confirmed his trip, and asked several dozen questions about Davi, her friends and family, her state of mind, her life.
'She has no enemies. Not one. Which, in a competitive business like this, is amazing. She's just a nice girl.'
'You called in a missing person's report yesterday.'
'Yeah. She missed a shoot two days ago. Davi never missed a shoot. I called her. Even dropped by her place. She just disappeared. Jesus, who could have done something like that to her?'
Pulitzer had to take a time-out to reschedule his afternoon appointments. While he was on the phone, Herb and I conferred.
'Davi was a celebrity. She may have had stalkers.'
'We'll call Sure-a-Tex.'
I added it to my notes.
'We also need to call Davi's parents, check with her friends, and try to pinpoint her movements for the last week.'
Pulitzer finished his call and asked where he could get some water. I pointed him to the washroom.
Herb took a sip of coffee, then reached for more sweetener. The pile of pink wrappers on his desk was almost as high as his cup.
'If it's someone who knew Davi, where do your handcuffs come in?'
'Coincidence? They could have fallen out of my pocket, someone picks them up and pawns them?'
'I don't buy it.'
'It's thin. But the only people with access to my office are cleaning people and cops.'
The maintenance staff was carefully screened during the hiring process, and cops were, well, cops. I didn't know anyone working out of the two-six with a grudge against me, and I especially didn't think I had any murderers on my squad. The process to become a police officer included psych profiles, mental evals, and endless personality tests and interviews. Wackos were supposedly weeded out early on.
'Maybe someone pinched them.'
That seemed more likely. I didn't carry a purse, and most of my outfits had oversized pockets to hold all of my
