Hush: Chapter 1
Title: Hush
Genre: 1950s Neo Noir
Rating: M
AN: Thanks to lovelylytton for beta-ing.
So, you’ve come for a story, have you? A good old fashioned yarn of sex, murder and scandal? Yeah, I suppose you’ve come to the right person. Who better to give you something like that than a cop in Los Angeles? And not just any cop, no, you’ve struck it lucky. You find yourself with a Lieutenant in the Homicide division; I must have seen a few things in my time, heard some doozies from others in my profession, maybe made a deal or two with some shady characters, fucked a few roundheels, put some wiseguys behind bars...
Well, you’re on the nose with your assumptions, but I’m not usually one to sit in a bar and swap tales over a beer and peanuts. I normally like to keep things close to the chest, I don’t get any swell of pride by telling others about the ones I put in the chamber, in fact I’d rather forget ‘em. It doesn’t do any good to let the dead haunt you, not when there’s so much else to try and cope with already. You don’t need to add smoke to a fire. Once I close a case, I try and do everything I can not to think about it. How can you do that, you ask? Easy enough, you plunge yourself into the next one, you focus on the new dead body, and you don’t stop, whatever you do, you don’t give up until it’s finished. And then you move onto the one after that.
I’ll talk on this one occasion, though, just this once. This one got to me. This one hit me hard and for a man whose job involves death and the worst of humanity on a regular basis, that’s sayin’ something.
It wasn’t a mystery why, though. That’s an easy question to answer: the dame. Every man has his weak spot. Well, she was definitely mine. She was one person who was in more pain than I could ever be. She was all alone, just like I was.
So why am I telling you all of this? I don’t know, maybe I’m hoping it’ll give me some kind of cathartic release.
Perhaps I should start with the basics. The name’s Walter Jacinto Summers - my mother was Brazilian, which is where I get the exotic middle name from, if you’re curious. I prefer it to ‘Walter’. Walter was my father’s name. It makes me feel like an old man when people use it, and it makes me miss him. He was a good enough guy, it was hard for him to raise me on his own but he tried, and I was grateful for that. He was a veteran of the war, see? While he was away on duty my mother had taken two to the chest by some thug who wanted the change in her purse, so it was just him and me for a while. He died when I was nineteen. I became a cop after that.
My friends call me Jace.
Everyone else just calls me ‘Detective’.
I have to admit, it gets you a lot of respect, that title, but I suppose it’s because most people who use it are desperate. To them, you’re the one who’s going to give them all the answers, who’ll explain why their loved ones have been ripped away.
“Why, detective?” they’ll ask. “How could this have happened? Who could do such a thing?”
The worst part of it is I don’t always have the answer. I’m most certainly not the benevolent being who’ll give them what they’re looking for. I’m just a Homicide detective. One meagre chump in a City meant to be filled with angels.
You still want that story? Fine, you’ll get it, but it’s not really mine. Hell, I don’t really think it’s hers either. Just to warn you, it doesn’t exactly have a happy ending, murder never does, of course, but I wouldn’t call it a sad one, either. Life isn’t like that, is it? It’s not easily defined into categories, it’s all shades of grey, some lighter, some dark. No logic to it most of the time. It just flows on, with or without you.
Anyway, I’m digressing. Where were we? Ah, yes, the story. It was a case I took a little while ago. It caused a few headlines, was a bit of a sensation in the papers. It even made it to the news in the picture houses.
It all started with Leah Hinley, better known by her stage name ‘Beryl Kingdom’, so it was no surprise that a lot of people were interested. Youngest daughter of the late Councilman Hinley, her mother’s family were big almond exporters which meant she’d had money coming out of her ears since the day she’d been born. It certainly helped her acting career. You see, Beryl wasn’t just a rising star, she was already up there, and she was all set to headline in one of the most expensive movies ever made to date.
She was a beauty alright, you had to give her that. She may have bought her way into everything else, but what a broad - bright eyes and a wicked smile that made any fella who saw her pictures tight in his pants. No one knew what colour hair she really had, but she used to favour red; it suited her best, one of the secretaries back at the station had said so. It was a good thing too, because that was to be the last colour she’d ever have.
Bright red hair and a smokin’ green dress. That’s how we found her; only problem was, she was dead.
~*~
“You drive like you’re a snail.”
Jace cut his light blue eyes at the man sitting next to him in the passenger’s seat of his 1951 Ford Customline Fordor, watching him as his large arm hung loosely out of the car window, a cigarette dangling from his rough fingertips. “You could have taken the bus home, you know. Or better yet, walked.”
Napoleon Vincinetti, better known as ‘Leo’ to his friends, smirked like the arrogant son-of-a-bitch that he was and took a long drag from his cigarette. “I could have,” he said, “but you were dumb enough to give me a ride.”
The police radio crackled to life, and an old, feminine and slightly nasal voice cut above the soft crooning of Dean playing on the sound system. “Incident along Highway forty three, two miles south of division seven, I repeat, incident along Highway forty three, two miles south of division seven. Requesting Homicide presence at the location.”
Leo glared at Jacinto, daring him to pick up the receiver and answer. “Don’t. You’re off duty.”
When Jacinto reached for it, Leo practically growled. “She should be calling it into the station.”
“You know how Betty likes to give me the good ones.”
Leo rolled his eyes chocolate brown eyes. “Your relationship with the older secretaries is disturbing.”
Jacinto’s smile was a mile wide at how it irritated his friend. “This is Detective Summers,” he said, holding down the button on the receiver with one hand, his other hand still steady on the wheel. “We’re on route forty three, heading north, we’ll take it. What’s the nature of the incident?”
“Adult female. Found just off the highway by a family who stopped on their way home.” There was a pause, and then all formal pretence was abandoned. “I think it’s someone famous, Jace.”
Leo threw his hands into the air, huffing. “Copy that, Betty, I’ll give you all the details over coffee tomorrow morning.”
The old, feminine, nasal voice named Betty sounded pleased. “You’d better. I’ll bring the almond cake.”
“You sure your other half will approve?”
“He knows I always keep a slice or two just for you. Have fun, handsome.”
Jace played along. “You too, sweetheart,” he said before hanging up the receiver and stepping a little heavier on the gas pedal.
“You’re supposed to taking me home.” Leo was no longer in the mood to sit back and smoke. He flicked his cigarette out of the window with as much force as possible, the lighted end flying away from the car like a firefly caught up in the wind. “I’m not Homicide anymore, I’m Vice. Vice doesn’t handle famous women if they’re not breathing.”
Jace shook his blonde head, not buying the spiel. “You can’t tell me that you’re not curious.”
Leo practically harrumphed, looking away into the black abyss that was the night time, unable to deny the truth of Jace’s words.
“You don’t have to say or do anything, just come and watch.”
Leo turned his head from the window to glare, as if Jacinto had just asked him to do the impossible.
He received a shrug in response. “It’s not my fault you put a suspect into a two day coma.”
Very few people had the guts to bring up that incident, let alone without adding on heaps of sympathy at the injustice of it all. “What does-”
“I’m just saying,” Jace interrupted, “If you’d held your temper like a normal human being, you wouldn’t have been in this situation.” He took a cursory glance at his former partner before darting his eyes back to the darkness outside. Leo had tilted his fedora low, casting an evasive shadow over his eyes and hiding his reaction to Jace’s comment. “You know you’re dying to find out what’s going on and you’re just mad because you’re stuck chasing after pro-skirts, bookies and misbehaving minor celebrities instead of real criminals.”
“Shut your trap and drive.” Leo was fuming, but he let the comment slide, forgiving Jacinto his daring just like he always did. “Speed up, you want to get there before those rats with cameras mess up my crime scene.”
“My crime scene.” Jace corrected.
Leo wanted to hit him.
~*~
“I’m Detective Summers, this is Detective Vincinetti, what’s happened?” They had arrived at the sight: the beginnings of a forest area which lined the highway. It had been cordoned off by rope and three police vehicles, but all their protection seemed to do was attract the attention of passing drivers who slowed down to a nearly complete stop in order to get a peek at the show. The press were already there, more than likely it was them who had called it into the police, and had probably moved the body into more dramatic poses while they were at it.
“Get those leeches out of here before they trample over more evidence!” Leo had yelled out when a particularly intrusive photographer pushed his way passed him to get a picture of the police officers examining something in the mud.
“Take it easy detective! We’ve got to earn our living, same as you!” As if the insult just rolled off his back, the man whipped out a small spiral notepad from his front pocket and pulled a small pencil from behind his ear, tucking the camera under his armpit. “Say,” he said, giving the detective a crooked smile, “you got any details yet? Can you confirm her identity? Is it really the Beryl Kingdom?”
Leo shoved the man away like he was an annoying fly and made his way to the body, where Jacinto was standing. As an afterthought he turned to one of the uniformed police officers who was apparently milling around with nothing better to do and pointed to the journalist who had just accosted him for information. “Check him, will you? Make sure he didn’t take anything.”
The policeman smiled and then winked. “Yes, sir. Always happy to do my duty.” He began rifling through the man’s pockets amid vehement protesting.
“You’re all crooks, you know that?! Every last one of you!”
Freeing him of some cash, a pack of cigarettes and extra film, the policeman smiled brightly. “At least we don’t make our money scandalising the dead.”
The photographer shook his head. “You sure about that?” He was shoved onto the hood of the police vehicle and patted down for his comment.
~*~
“So what have you got?” Leo had his hands in his pockets, his hat tipped back slightly and camel-coloured trench coat tucked behind him, as if he was a child deliberately stopping himself from reaching for the cookie jar.
Jacinto pointed with his notepad to the woman lying in the mud and grass, both hardened from the cold. Her skin had a blue tint to its pale edges but the weather wasn’t cold enough, even in the depths of winter, to freeze her. Her upper body was covered in dark clumps of drying or matted, already dry blood. Most, if not all of it, originated from the open gashes in her skull. From her position, and the mud and foliage littering her body, it looked like she’d been dragged by the arms from the edge of the road. “Found by a father who was driving his family home. His young son needed to stop for a bathroom break. Poor kid wet his little pants when he saw the body.” He moved his hand to indicate a little patch of moistened earth a few feet from Leo. “That’s the spot, there.”
“Looks like your killer was in a rush to dump her, or maybe he found it was heavier than he thought it would be.” Leo squatted down to peer further into the wooded area behind them. “If he’d pulled the body a few feet deeper, it probably would have never been found.” He shook his head, “Sloppy work. I’d say it was an amateur, and given the trauma around the head it seems whoever pulled this number on her had a score to settle, and big hands.”
“Or a weapon of some kind,” Jace added.
“You find fragments of something?”
“A small shard of glass embedded in the larger wound. Now tell me something I don’t know, I didn’t drag you out here for your looks.”
Leo ignored the jab, they’d traded them all day, every day back when they’d been partners, and they were never taken seriously. Instead he was all business as he lifted his arm out and flicked out two fingers in a gesture for Jace to pass him his pen. Jace obliged, watching as Leo used it to tuck some of the victim’s bloodied hair behind her ear, away from her face. “Well I can give you an unofficial ID of the body.”
Jacinto sighed and shook his head lightly. “This is going to make my job difficult.” The fact that Leo could identify the woman, even with such a heavily bruised face, meant that he was sure as to who it was. “Beryl Kingdom?” Jace asked, knowing he didn’t need to, but hoping that he was wrong.
“Looks like it.”
“The press is going to be crawling all over this.” He rubbed his left eye, suddenly tired. “Do you know anything about her family? Married? Parents?”
“All I do is watch her movies, I don’t know her life story.” Leo stood up, gave Jace back his pen and then dusted his hands. “Did the canvassing crew manage to find any footprints?”
“No such luck, the ground must have been hard when she was dumped. I’m guessing from the decomp that she’s only been dead for around twenty four hours.” Jace bent down and took out the same pen he’d handed Leo, using it to test the mobility of the victim’s arm. “She’s probably only just coming out of rigor.” He noted the darkness of her maroon nail polish, matching perfectly with what would have once been pristinely applied lipstick. He saw how her nails were broken in places, chipped in others: her hands were bruised, she’d put up a fight. “She’s still wearing her jewellery.” It was impossible to miss the two diamond rings, one on each hand although neither were on her wedding finger, but that wasn’t unusual with celebrities, they often didn’t show if they were married or not. Jace looked up to her wrist and caught sight of a shimmering golden bracelet, he let his eyes wander over her body, checking her neck and then her ears, spotting glittering green stones, most likely emeralds, amongst the diamonds wrapped around her neck and studded into her earlobes.
“Excuse me.” Leo stepped aside to allow one of the uniformed officers to take a few close up photographs of the body. After snapping a few shots the young man lowered his camera and gave Leo a look. “Did I hear you right, detective? Is this really her?”
“Looks that way.” Leo pulled out a cigarette and lighter from his trench. He took his time lighting it, using his left hand to shield the little flame from going out. “Of course, you can never be sure until you get a positive ID. You find anything like that yet? Purse? Wallet?”
The man shook his head in the negative. “I only just saw one of her pictures yesterday. I took my fiancee and her mother out for dinner. I think the movie was a little too racy for Mrs Brisco, though. You a fan of hers?”
“I think every red blooded male is, or was anyway.” Leo took in a drag and puffed it out while his eyes travelled along the corpse. “She was one stacked dame.”
The officer’s eyes diverted from Leo to her breasts. His eyebrows lifted. “I’ll say.”
Jace called him over. “Get a few shots of her hands, then bag them along with her feet. I’m done with the body. Make sure and let the forensics boys know that I want them to check for sexual activity.” He stood up and walked up to Leo, explaining the reason for his last statement. “She’s not wearing any underwear.”
“Only you’d have the balls to check for something like that now.”
“She wasn’t robbed. Looking at her dress and make up, she was all dolled up for a reason. Either she was going to a party, or she was entertaining somebody. It looks like it was the latter.”
“I’m pretty sure they’ll know all about it.”
Jace smiled as he looked towards the journalists Leo was referring to. “I hope you didn’t yell at too many of those reporters,” he said. “I at least need them to tell me who her next of kin is.”
Leo let out a small cloud of grey smoke and gave his ex-partner a shrug. “Good thing you’re the charming one. I think I’m going to ask one of these fine officers to give me a ride home while you handle this,” he said as the two of them made their way from the crime scene to the edge of the highway, where policemen tried to block out an ever increasing number of arriving journalists from entering the area. “You should thank Betty for all the fun you’re about to have.”
“Her almond cake is worth it.”
If I’d known then what I know now, I would have thought twice about that last part...
Genre: 1950s Neo Noir
Rating: M
AN: Thanks to lovelylytton for beta-ing.
So, you’ve come for a story, have you? A good old fashioned yarn of sex, murder and scandal? Yeah, I suppose you’ve come to the right person. Who better to give you something like that than a cop in Los Angeles? And not just any cop, no, you’ve struck it lucky. You find yourself with a Lieutenant in the Homicide division; I must have seen a few things in my time, heard some doozies from others in my profession, maybe made a deal or two with some shady characters, fucked a few roundheels, put some wiseguys behind bars...
Well, you’re on the nose with your assumptions, but I’m not usually one to sit in a bar and swap tales over a beer and peanuts. I normally like to keep things close to the chest, I don’t get any swell of pride by telling others about the ones I put in the chamber, in fact I’d rather forget ‘em. It doesn’t do any good to let the dead haunt you, not when there’s so much else to try and cope with already. You don’t need to add smoke to a fire. Once I close a case, I try and do everything I can not to think about it. How can you do that, you ask? Easy enough, you plunge yourself into the next one, you focus on the new dead body, and you don’t stop, whatever you do, you don’t give up until it’s finished. And then you move onto the one after that.
I’ll talk on this one occasion, though, just this once. This one got to me. This one hit me hard and for a man whose job involves death and the worst of humanity on a regular basis, that’s sayin’ something.
It wasn’t a mystery why, though. That’s an easy question to answer: the dame. Every man has his weak spot. Well, she was definitely mine. She was one person who was in more pain than I could ever be. She was all alone, just like I was.
So why am I telling you all of this? I don’t know, maybe I’m hoping it’ll give me some kind of cathartic release.
Perhaps I should start with the basics. The name’s Walter Jacinto Summers - my mother was Brazilian, which is where I get the exotic middle name from, if you’re curious. I prefer it to ‘Walter’. Walter was my father’s name. It makes me feel like an old man when people use it, and it makes me miss him. He was a good enough guy, it was hard for him to raise me on his own but he tried, and I was grateful for that. He was a veteran of the war, see? While he was away on duty my mother had taken two to the chest by some thug who wanted the change in her purse, so it was just him and me for a while. He died when I was nineteen. I became a cop after that.
My friends call me Jace.
Everyone else just calls me ‘Detective’.
I have to admit, it gets you a lot of respect, that title, but I suppose it’s because most people who use it are desperate. To them, you’re the one who’s going to give them all the answers, who’ll explain why their loved ones have been ripped away.
“Why, detective?” they’ll ask. “How could this have happened? Who could do such a thing?”
The worst part of it is I don’t always have the answer. I’m most certainly not the benevolent being who’ll give them what they’re looking for. I’m just a Homicide detective. One meagre chump in a City meant to be filled with angels.
You still want that story? Fine, you’ll get it, but it’s not really mine. Hell, I don’t really think it’s hers either. Just to warn you, it doesn’t exactly have a happy ending, murder never does, of course, but I wouldn’t call it a sad one, either. Life isn’t like that, is it? It’s not easily defined into categories, it’s all shades of grey, some lighter, some dark. No logic to it most of the time. It just flows on, with or without you.
Anyway, I’m digressing. Where were we? Ah, yes, the story. It was a case I took a little while ago. It caused a few headlines, was a bit of a sensation in the papers. It even made it to the news in the picture houses.
It all started with Leah Hinley, better known by her stage name ‘Beryl Kingdom’, so it was no surprise that a lot of people were interested. Youngest daughter of the late Councilman Hinley, her mother’s family were big almond exporters which meant she’d had money coming out of her ears since the day she’d been born. It certainly helped her acting career. You see, Beryl wasn’t just a rising star, she was already up there, and she was all set to headline in one of the most expensive movies ever made to date.
She was a beauty alright, you had to give her that. She may have bought her way into everything else, but what a broad - bright eyes and a wicked smile that made any fella who saw her pictures tight in his pants. No one knew what colour hair she really had, but she used to favour red; it suited her best, one of the secretaries back at the station had said so. It was a good thing too, because that was to be the last colour she’d ever have.
Bright red hair and a smokin’ green dress. That’s how we found her; only problem was, she was dead.
~*~
“You drive like you’re a snail.”
Jace cut his light blue eyes at the man sitting next to him in the passenger’s seat of his 1951 Ford Customline Fordor, watching him as his large arm hung loosely out of the car window, a cigarette dangling from his rough fingertips. “You could have taken the bus home, you know. Or better yet, walked.”
Napoleon Vincinetti, better known as ‘Leo’ to his friends, smirked like the arrogant son-of-a-bitch that he was and took a long drag from his cigarette. “I could have,” he said, “but you were dumb enough to give me a ride.”
The police radio crackled to life, and an old, feminine and slightly nasal voice cut above the soft crooning of Dean playing on the sound system. “Incident along Highway forty three, two miles south of division seven, I repeat, incident along Highway forty three, two miles south of division seven. Requesting Homicide presence at the location.”
Leo glared at Jacinto, daring him to pick up the receiver and answer. “Don’t. You’re off duty.”
When Jacinto reached for it, Leo practically growled. “She should be calling it into the station.”
“You know how Betty likes to give me the good ones.”
Leo rolled his eyes chocolate brown eyes. “Your relationship with the older secretaries is disturbing.”
Jacinto’s smile was a mile wide at how it irritated his friend. “This is Detective Summers,” he said, holding down the button on the receiver with one hand, his other hand still steady on the wheel. “We’re on route forty three, heading north, we’ll take it. What’s the nature of the incident?”
“Adult female. Found just off the highway by a family who stopped on their way home.” There was a pause, and then all formal pretence was abandoned. “I think it’s someone famous, Jace.”
Leo threw his hands into the air, huffing. “Copy that, Betty, I’ll give you all the details over coffee tomorrow morning.”
The old, feminine, nasal voice named Betty sounded pleased. “You’d better. I’ll bring the almond cake.”
“You sure your other half will approve?”
“He knows I always keep a slice or two just for you. Have fun, handsome.”
Jace played along. “You too, sweetheart,” he said before hanging up the receiver and stepping a little heavier on the gas pedal.
“You’re supposed to taking me home.” Leo was no longer in the mood to sit back and smoke. He flicked his cigarette out of the window with as much force as possible, the lighted end flying away from the car like a firefly caught up in the wind. “I’m not Homicide anymore, I’m Vice. Vice doesn’t handle famous women if they’re not breathing.”
Jace shook his blonde head, not buying the spiel. “You can’t tell me that you’re not curious.”
Leo practically harrumphed, looking away into the black abyss that was the night time, unable to deny the truth of Jace’s words.
“You don’t have to say or do anything, just come and watch.”
Leo turned his head from the window to glare, as if Jacinto had just asked him to do the impossible.
He received a shrug in response. “It’s not my fault you put a suspect into a two day coma.”
Very few people had the guts to bring up that incident, let alone without adding on heaps of sympathy at the injustice of it all. “What does-”
“I’m just saying,” Jace interrupted, “If you’d held your temper like a normal human being, you wouldn’t have been in this situation.” He took a cursory glance at his former partner before darting his eyes back to the darkness outside. Leo had tilted his fedora low, casting an evasive shadow over his eyes and hiding his reaction to Jace’s comment. “You know you’re dying to find out what’s going on and you’re just mad because you’re stuck chasing after pro-skirts, bookies and misbehaving minor celebrities instead of real criminals.”
“Shut your trap and drive.” Leo was fuming, but he let the comment slide, forgiving Jacinto his daring just like he always did. “Speed up, you want to get there before those rats with cameras mess up my crime scene.”
“My crime scene.” Jace corrected.
Leo wanted to hit him.
~*~
“I’m Detective Summers, this is Detective Vincinetti, what’s happened?” They had arrived at the sight: the beginnings of a forest area which lined the highway. It had been cordoned off by rope and three police vehicles, but all their protection seemed to do was attract the attention of passing drivers who slowed down to a nearly complete stop in order to get a peek at the show. The press were already there, more than likely it was them who had called it into the police, and had probably moved the body into more dramatic poses while they were at it.
“Get those leeches out of here before they trample over more evidence!” Leo had yelled out when a particularly intrusive photographer pushed his way passed him to get a picture of the police officers examining something in the mud.
“Take it easy detective! We’ve got to earn our living, same as you!” As if the insult just rolled off his back, the man whipped out a small spiral notepad from his front pocket and pulled a small pencil from behind his ear, tucking the camera under his armpit. “Say,” he said, giving the detective a crooked smile, “you got any details yet? Can you confirm her identity? Is it really the Beryl Kingdom?”
Leo shoved the man away like he was an annoying fly and made his way to the body, where Jacinto was standing. As an afterthought he turned to one of the uniformed police officers who was apparently milling around with nothing better to do and pointed to the journalist who had just accosted him for information. “Check him, will you? Make sure he didn’t take anything.”
The policeman smiled and then winked. “Yes, sir. Always happy to do my duty.” He began rifling through the man’s pockets amid vehement protesting.
“You’re all crooks, you know that?! Every last one of you!”
Freeing him of some cash, a pack of cigarettes and extra film, the policeman smiled brightly. “At least we don’t make our money scandalising the dead.”
The photographer shook his head. “You sure about that?” He was shoved onto the hood of the police vehicle and patted down for his comment.
~*~
“So what have you got?” Leo had his hands in his pockets, his hat tipped back slightly and camel-coloured trench coat tucked behind him, as if he was a child deliberately stopping himself from reaching for the cookie jar.
Jacinto pointed with his notepad to the woman lying in the mud and grass, both hardened from the cold. Her skin had a blue tint to its pale edges but the weather wasn’t cold enough, even in the depths of winter, to freeze her. Her upper body was covered in dark clumps of drying or matted, already dry blood. Most, if not all of it, originated from the open gashes in her skull. From her position, and the mud and foliage littering her body, it looked like she’d been dragged by the arms from the edge of the road. “Found by a father who was driving his family home. His young son needed to stop for a bathroom break. Poor kid wet his little pants when he saw the body.” He moved his hand to indicate a little patch of moistened earth a few feet from Leo. “That’s the spot, there.”
“Looks like your killer was in a rush to dump her, or maybe he found it was heavier than he thought it would be.” Leo squatted down to peer further into the wooded area behind them. “If he’d pulled the body a few feet deeper, it probably would have never been found.” He shook his head, “Sloppy work. I’d say it was an amateur, and given the trauma around the head it seems whoever pulled this number on her had a score to settle, and big hands.”
“Or a weapon of some kind,” Jace added.
“You find fragments of something?”
“A small shard of glass embedded in the larger wound. Now tell me something I don’t know, I didn’t drag you out here for your looks.”
Leo ignored the jab, they’d traded them all day, every day back when they’d been partners, and they were never taken seriously. Instead he was all business as he lifted his arm out and flicked out two fingers in a gesture for Jace to pass him his pen. Jace obliged, watching as Leo used it to tuck some of the victim’s bloodied hair behind her ear, away from her face. “Well I can give you an unofficial ID of the body.”
Jacinto sighed and shook his head lightly. “This is going to make my job difficult.” The fact that Leo could identify the woman, even with such a heavily bruised face, meant that he was sure as to who it was. “Beryl Kingdom?” Jace asked, knowing he didn’t need to, but hoping that he was wrong.
“Looks like it.”
“The press is going to be crawling all over this.” He rubbed his left eye, suddenly tired. “Do you know anything about her family? Married? Parents?”
“All I do is watch her movies, I don’t know her life story.” Leo stood up, gave Jace back his pen and then dusted his hands. “Did the canvassing crew manage to find any footprints?”
“No such luck, the ground must have been hard when she was dumped. I’m guessing from the decomp that she’s only been dead for around twenty four hours.” Jace bent down and took out the same pen he’d handed Leo, using it to test the mobility of the victim’s arm. “She’s probably only just coming out of rigor.” He noted the darkness of her maroon nail polish, matching perfectly with what would have once been pristinely applied lipstick. He saw how her nails were broken in places, chipped in others: her hands were bruised, she’d put up a fight. “She’s still wearing her jewellery.” It was impossible to miss the two diamond rings, one on each hand although neither were on her wedding finger, but that wasn’t unusual with celebrities, they often didn’t show if they were married or not. Jace looked up to her wrist and caught sight of a shimmering golden bracelet, he let his eyes wander over her body, checking her neck and then her ears, spotting glittering green stones, most likely emeralds, amongst the diamonds wrapped around her neck and studded into her earlobes.
“Excuse me.” Leo stepped aside to allow one of the uniformed officers to take a few close up photographs of the body. After snapping a few shots the young man lowered his camera and gave Leo a look. “Did I hear you right, detective? Is this really her?”
“Looks that way.” Leo pulled out a cigarette and lighter from his trench. He took his time lighting it, using his left hand to shield the little flame from going out. “Of course, you can never be sure until you get a positive ID. You find anything like that yet? Purse? Wallet?”
The man shook his head in the negative. “I only just saw one of her pictures yesterday. I took my fiancee and her mother out for dinner. I think the movie was a little too racy for Mrs Brisco, though. You a fan of hers?”
“I think every red blooded male is, or was anyway.” Leo took in a drag and puffed it out while his eyes travelled along the corpse. “She was one stacked dame.”
The officer’s eyes diverted from Leo to her breasts. His eyebrows lifted. “I’ll say.”
Jace called him over. “Get a few shots of her hands, then bag them along with her feet. I’m done with the body. Make sure and let the forensics boys know that I want them to check for sexual activity.” He stood up and walked up to Leo, explaining the reason for his last statement. “She’s not wearing any underwear.”
“Only you’d have the balls to check for something like that now.”
“She wasn’t robbed. Looking at her dress and make up, she was all dolled up for a reason. Either she was going to a party, or she was entertaining somebody. It looks like it was the latter.”
“I’m pretty sure they’ll know all about it.”
Jace smiled as he looked towards the journalists Leo was referring to. “I hope you didn’t yell at too many of those reporters,” he said. “I at least need them to tell me who her next of kin is.”
Leo let out a small cloud of grey smoke and gave his ex-partner a shrug. “Good thing you’re the charming one. I think I’m going to ask one of these fine officers to give me a ride home while you handle this,” he said as the two of them made their way from the crime scene to the edge of the highway, where policemen tried to block out an ever increasing number of arriving journalists from entering the area. “You should thank Betty for all the fun you’re about to have.”
“Her almond cake is worth it.”
If I’d known then what I know now, I would have thought twice about that last part...