‘How do you know?’

‘Not Jenny’s style. She’ll chat and flirt with everyone, guys and girls, but she’s not the kind of girl you can simply pick up in a nightclub. He chatted to her for a few minutes and then left.’

‘What did this guy look like?’

‘I couldn’t really tell you. I just remember he was tall and very well dressed, but other than that…’ Pietro shook his head. ‘I’m not very good with faces.’

‘Did you see her talking to anyone else?’

‘Not that I can remember, but then again, it was Friday night, I was too busy to really notice.’

‘Can you remember if you’ve ever seen this tall, well-dressed man in here… before or since Friday?’

‘Sorry.’ Another shake of the head. ‘If I have, he didn’t stick out. The only reason I remember him from Friday is because I saw him chatting to Jenny.’

‘Do you know if they left together?’

‘I didn’t see. But as I’ve said before, it’s not Jenny’s style.’

‘Did she seem high or drunk?’

‘Not at all, just tired really.’

Hunter grabbed a card from his beat-up leather wallet. ‘If you ever see the tall guy in here again, stop whatever it is that you’re doing and you call me, do you understand?’

‘Yeah, sure.’ D-King had asked for exactly the same thing.

‘My cell phone number is on the back.’

Pietro examined both sides of Hunter’s card and placed it in his back pocket. ‘She’s not OK, is she?’ he asked with tenderness in his voice.

Hunter hesitated for a moment, but revealing the truth would probably make Pietro keener to help. ‘She’s dead.’

Pietro closed his eyes for an instant. It was hard for him to believe that he would never again see Jenny’s smile or her warm eyes. He would never again hear her soft voice. ‘And you think this tall guy did it?’

‘We don’t know, but it looks like he was the last one to have talked to her.’

Pietro nodded as if he understood what he had to do.

Thirty-Three

The next day started with Hunter and Garcia taking a drive up to George Slater’s house in Brentwood.

‘Wow, this looks nice,’ Garcia said, admiring the striking building. Even by the lofty standards of Hollywood the house was impressive. It was positioned at the end of a narrow lane, shadowed by oak trees. The carved lintels and immaculate white front made the house stand out on a street of distinguished residences. On the east side of the house, overlooking a gorgeous garden was a detached double garage.

‘Being a lawyer has its advantages I guess,’ Hunter replied as he parked his car on the driveway. They made their way along the cobblestone walkway, up the small flight of stairs to the front door and pressed the ‘call’ button on the video-entry system.

‘Yes,’ the reply came just a few seconds later.

Both detectives lifted their badges to the small camera on the wall and introduced themselves.

‘Can you give me just a minute?’ The voice was soft and feminine, but Hunter detected the slight quiver that came from having cried for hours.

‘Of course, ma’am.’

They waited patiently for almost a minute before they heard the sound of approaching footsteps. The door opened to reveal a very attractive woman with golden blond hair that she had up in a slicked-back bun. Her lipstick was a pale shade of red and her make-up subtle, just not enough to disguise the dark circles under her sad hazel eyes. Hunter put her age at around thirty-two. She was wearing a light black chiffon dress that suited her body perfectly. Her grief made her looked tired and frazzled.

‘Hello!’ She had a stunning presence about her, with a sort of delicate superiority. Her posture was perfect.

‘Thank you for seeing us, Mrs Slater, I hope this is not too much of an inconvenient time.’

Catherine forced a shy smile and stepped aside. ‘Please come in.’

The house had a hint of scented candles, jasmine perhaps, but the air inside felt cold and impersonal. The walls were white and Hunter noticed the even whiter squares revealing where pictures had once hung.

She showed them into what looked to have been an office. The book shelves were now empty and the sofa and armchair were covered with large white dustsheets. The room was brightly lit as the curtain that once protected it from the sunlight had been taken down. Cardboard boxes scattered around the room completed the ‘moving away’ decoration.

‘I’m sorry about the mess,’ she said, pulling the dustsheets from over the sofa and placing them behind the large hardwood desk that stood just a few feet from the window. ‘Please have a seat.’

Hunter and Garcia took the sofa while Catherine sat in the armchair opposite them. She noticed the inquisitive look on Hunter’s face and offered an answer even before the question.

‘I’m moving back to Alabama. I’ll stay with my parents for a little while until I decide what to do. I have no business here anymore, the only reason I came to LA was so George could take a position with Tale & Josh,’ she said in a sad and fragile voice. ‘Can I get you anything to drink? Coffee, tea?’

‘No thank you. We’re OK.’

Catherine tried to renew her smile but her lips simply faded into a thin line. ‘George loved a cup of tea in the afternoon,’ she whispered.

‘How long have you lived in LA, Mrs Slater?’

‘We moved here two and a half years ago, and please, call me Catherine.’

‘And your husband had a job with Tale & Josh from the start?’

‘Yes,’ she replied with a slight nod.

‘Did he follow a common routine? I mean other than work, did he regularly go to any other places like sports clubs, bars, nightclubs?’

‘George never had much time for anything, he was always working. He would stay late in the office at least three times a week. He didn’t go to any sports club or gym. He’d never been a very physically active person.’ Catherine’s gaze wandered towards the window and she seemed to stare at nothing for a while. ‘The only social engagement he liked to keep was his Tuesday-night poker game.’ Her eyes started to get tearful and she reached for the box of tissues on the desk.

Hunter and Garcia exchanged a quick, tense look. ‘Do you know who he played poker with? Was it work friends or…?’

‘Yes, other lawyers from his firm. Maybe some other people, but I can’t be sure.’

‘Have you ever met any of them?’

‘I’ve met other lawyers from Tale & Josh, yes.’

‘I mean, have you ever met any of your husband’s poker buddies?’

‘I’ve never been to any poker night if that’s what you’re asking.’

Hunter detected a tone of arrogance in her voice. ‘Do you know where they played? Was it a club, someone’s house?’

‘George told me that every week they played in a different house. They took turns hosting it.’

‘Really? How about here? Did you ever host it?’

‘No. I wouldn’t let him.’

‘And why is that?’ Garcia asked surprised.

Catherine’s eyes still showed the signs of fought-back tears. She looked dazed and still in shock. ‘I’m a Christian, Detective Garcia, and I don’t approve of gambling. Even though George had sworn there was no money involved, I just wouldn’t have it in my house.’

‘No money?’

‘No. He said they did it for the social aspect of it.’ She pulled a new tissue from the box and softly brought it to the corner of her eyes. ‘He hasn’t gambled for many years.’

Garcia raised his eyebrows in surprise. ‘Did he used to gamble?’ he asked.

‘Years ago. But he gave it up after we met. I asked him to.’

‘Casinos?’

She hesitated for a moment as if what she was about to say embarrassed her. ‘No, dog-racing… greyhounds.’

Hunter swallowed dry. ‘Greyhounds? Are you sure?’ The surprise in his voice more than evident.

‘Yes, I’m sure.’

Garcia shivered.

‘And are you sure he’d given it up? I mean, are you sure he hadn’t been to any greyhound tracks lately?’