The Postcard Killers

   Would she have had the strength to do it? The neck was tough. It was full of muscles, sinews, and ligaments. But above all, why would she have killed her parents?

    He took it for granted that the twins had murdered the guardian who had embezzled the whole of their inheritance.

    And who was Sandra Schulman, the friend mentioned by the gardener?

    He would have to track her down, too. And the boyfriend, William Hamilton. For some reason he suddenly saw Dessie Larsson before him, her long hair and graceful profile, her slender fingers, her vigilant green eyes. Had the mob of journalists finally given up waiting outside Dessie’s door?

    Had she gone back to her old routine?

    Was she thinking of him? Was she all right?

    Irritated, he shrugged off the thought. He had more work to do in L.A.

Chapter 110

    WILLIAM HAMILTON, OR BILLY as his friends called him, opened the door with his long, dirty blond hair standing on end and wearing nothing but a pink bath towel.

    “What?” he said abruptly, blinking in the dim light from the stairwell.

    “What now?”

    “Police,” Jacob Kanon said, holding up his badge, obscuring the NYPD.

    “Can I come in? Of course I can.”

    “Shit,” Billy said, frowning, but letting the door swing open. Jacob took that as a yes and stepped into the apartment. It wasn’t bad, the apartment. It was on Barrington Avenue, just a few miles from Westwood Village and the UCLA campus. It was at the top of the building, with a large terrace overlooking the pool and a garden. There was a fashionable kitchen/bar and an open gas fire.

    “What the hell’s the matter this time? What do you people want now?”

    Billy sank into a white corner sofa facing the artificial fire. The towel slid open, revealing well-muscled, suntanned thighs.

    “Honey, who is it?” a woman’s voice called from one of the bedrooms.

    “Mind your own business,” he muttered under his breath.

    “I’m here about Sylvia and Malcolm Rudolph,” Jacob said, sitting down on the sofa without being asked. Billy let out a low groan.

    “What the fuck? I’ve already answered a load of dumb questions! When am I supposed to have found the time to slum around Europe? I still don’t have a passport. I’ve got a job here.”

    “Doing what?” Jacob asked, fighting an instinctive dislike of the guy on the sofa.

    Billy straightened his shoulders. “Actor,” he said.

    “Wow,” Jacob said. “What have you been in?”

    Billy’s shoulders sank a bit. He wiped his nose. “I’m a musician, too. And I’m working on a script for television.”

    Jacob tried to look impressed. He wasn’t, not in the least. He thought that a baboon could probably write a script for television.

    “You met Sylvia when you were studying performance drama at UCLA…”

    Hamilton spread his arms.

    “Okay, this is how it is: I tried to save Sylvia from her crazy brother. Their relationship got seriously fucked up when Sandy disappeared. Malcolm was totally obsessed with her. You following me, taking notes?”

    Jacob interrupted him.

    “Disappeared? Who disappeared? Sandra Schulman?”

    Irritated, Billy Hamilton got up and walked up and down in front of the fire.

    “They were going up to the Mansion to get the last of their stuff, but I had an audition and couldn’t go. They waited for her, but Sandy never showed up for the car trip. No one knows what happened to her. Mac took it real bad. We all did.”

    Jacob sat there without moving, trying to fit the information together in his head.

    “Malcolm Rudolph and Sandra Schulman were a couple?”

    “Well, yeah. Ever since high school. She came from Montecito. They were neighbors.”

    “Darling, who are you talking to?” called the woman in the bedroom. “I’m lying here waiting for you.”

    “Shut the fuck up!” Billy shouted. “I’m busy!”

    He sniffed and wiped his nose again. “I don’t know what else to tell you, dude.”

    Jacob took that as a signal to move on and started toward the door.

    “Where was Sandra Schulman living when she disappeared?” he asked.

    “Same place as Sylvia and Mac. Apartment on Wilshire and Veteran. Ask me, they might have been a threesome. Except that Sylvia was jealous of Sandy. Very… Hey, are you going? Already? What a shame.”

    “What was the number? The apartment on Wilshire?”

    Hamilton looked scornfully at him.

    “What do I look like, fucking Google?”

Chapter 111

    JACOB WENT BACK TO his car and made a phone call.

    Carlos Rodrнguez answered with the same crackling sн as he had at the gate of the Rudolphs’ mansion in Montecito.

    “Jacob Kanon here,” Jacob said. “NYPD? We spoke yesterday.”

    “Sн, seсor. їQuй pasa? How can I help you, Detective?”

    “Just one more question. It’s about Sandra Schulman. You said she was with them at the Mansion that last weekend before the auction? Is that correct?”

    “Sн. Why?”

    “You’re quite sure?”

    “Sandra used to play here since she was a little chiquitita. Of course I recognized her. She and Malcolm were boyfriend and girlfriend.”

    “How did Sylvia feel about her?”

    “Oh, I don’t know. She liked having Malcolm to herself. They were very close, brother and sister.”

    “Did you speak to Sandra that evening at the house?”

    “Sн, claro! She kissed me on the cheek.”

    Jacob pushed the hair from his forehead.

    “You said the twins left in the middle of the night. Did you see them drive away?”

    “Pero claro que sн. They woke me up. The gate can only be opened manually, from inside the lodge.”

    “Did you notice if Sandra Schulman was in the car?”

    There was silence at the other end.

    “It was late at night,” he said. “You couldn’t see anything inside the car.”

    “But you spoke to the Rudolphs?”

    “With the seсorita. She was driving.”

    “But you didn’t actually see Sandra Schulman leave the property?”

    There was a moment’s silence.

    “She must have gone with them, because they didn’t leave her behind.”

    Jacob covered his eyes with his hand.

    “Thanks,” he said. “That’s all I needed to know.”