In the weeks that followed, they ended up bumping into each other several times. Becky was always very talkative and funny, while Jeff was content to listen and laugh. Her sense of humor shining through in every conversation.

Jeff finally gathered enough courage to ask Becky out for dinner after a few months of supermarket meetings. She was hesitant at first, but she’d decided to accept.

They’d arranged to meet the next Monday at the Belvedere restaurant in Santa Monica, at 8:30 p.m.

Forty-Four

Washington Square is located at the beach end of Washington Boulevard, just across the road from Venice Beach. It’s home to several well-known bars and restaurants, including the Venice Whaler. Monday nights aren’t their busiest night, but the place looked full of activity with a colorful young crowd in shorts and beach shirts surrounding the large bar. The atmosphere was relaxed and pleasant. It was easy to see why Isabella would’ve enjoyed a drink or two at this bar.

Hunter and Garcia arrived at the Venice Whaler at five-thirty and by six-thirty they’d talked to every member of staff, including the two chefs and the kitchen porter, but the more people they talked to, the more frustrated they became. Long or short hair, beard or no beard, it didn’t matter. No one seemed to have ever laid eyes on anyone that resembled any of the computer-generated sketches.

After talking to the entire staff, Hunter and Garcia decided to ask a few of the customers, but their luck didn’t change and Hunter wasn’t surprised. This killer was too careful, too prepared, took no risks and Hunter had a strong suspicion that picking potential victims out of busy and popular bars wasn’t really his style – it was too dangerous – too exposed – there were too many factors he couldn’t control.

After leaving a copy of the sketches with the manager they moved on to the next bar on their list – Big Dean’s Café. The outcome was a carbon copy of what had happened at the Venice Whaler. No one remembered seeing anyone that looked like any of the images.

‘This is turning out to be another wild goose chase,’ Garcia commented, visibly bothered.

‘Welcome to the world of chasing psychopaths,’ Hunter said with a cheesy smile. ‘This is what it’s like. Frustration is a major part of the game. You’re gonna have to learn to deal with it.’

It had just gone eight o’clock when they came to the third and final bar on their list for the night – Rusty’s Surf Ranch where beech-colored wood was the main theme. Behind the small bar a single barman was happily serving the loud crowd of customers.

Hunter and Garcia approached the bar, grabbing the attention of the barman. Half an hour later and the entire staff had been asked the same questions and shown the same pictures – nothing. Garcia couldn’t hide his disappointment.

‘I was really hoping for some sort of a break tonight…’ He thought better of what he’d just said. ‘OK, maybe not a break, but some kind of development,’ he said, rubbing his tired eyes.

Hunter surveyed the restaurant floor for some seating space. Luckily a party of four were just leaving, vacating a table.

‘Are you hungry? I could do with some food – let’s grab a seat.’ He pointed to the empty table and they both made their way towards it.

They checked the menu in silence, Hunter struggling to make a decision. ‘I’m actually starving. I could have half of this menu.’

‘I bet you could. I’m not that hungry, I’ll just have a Caesar salad,’ Garcia said indifferently.

‘Salad!’ Surprise in Hunter’s voice. ‘You’re like a big girl. Order some proper food, will you?’ he demanded dryly.

Reluctantly, Garcia reopened the menu. ‘OK, I’ll have a chicken Caesar salad. Is that better, Mom?’

‘And some BBQ back ribs to go with it.’

‘Are you trying to make me fat? That’s way too much food.’

‘Trying to make you fat? You are a big girl,’ Hunter said laughing.

The waitress came up to take their order. Apart from the Caesar salad and the back ribs, Hunter also ordered a California burger and some fried calamari for himself together with two bottles of beer. They sat without saying a word, Hunter’s observant eyes moving from table to table, resting on each occupant for only a few seconds. Garcia regarded his partner for a minute and then placed both of his elbows on the table leaning forward, his voice low as if whispering a secret.

‘Is there anything wrong?’

Hunter moved his stare back to Garcia. ‘No, everything is fine,’ he said calmly.

‘You’re looking around like you’ve seen something or somebody.’

‘Oh that. I do that a lot when I’m in public places, it’s like an exercise that has carried on from my criminal psychology days.’

‘Really… like what?’

‘We used to play this game. We’d go out to restaurants, bars, clubs, places like that and we’d take turns picking a subject in the crowd, watching him or her for a few minutes and trying to profile them as best as we could.’

‘What, just by watching them for a minute or so?’

‘Yeah, that’s right.’

‘Show me.’

‘What? Why?’

‘I just wanna see how it works.’

Hunter hesitated for a moment. ‘OK, pick someone.’

Garcia looked around the busy restaurant but his eyes were drawn to the bar. Two attractive women, one blond, one brunette, were having a drink together. The blond one was by far the more talkative of the two. Garcia had made his choice. ‘Right there, over at the bar. See the two girls by themselves? The blond one.’

Hunter’s gaze fell on his new subject. He observed her, her eye and body movements, her quirks, the way she spoke to her friend, the way she laughed. It took him only about a minute to start his assessment.

‘OK, she knows she’s attractive. She’s very confident and she loves the attention she gets, she works hard for it.’

Garcia lifted his right hand. ‘Wait up, how would you know that?’

‘She’s wearing very revealing clothes compared to her friend’s. So far she’s run her hand through her hair four times, the most common “notice me” gesture, and every so often she furtively checks herself against the mirror behind the bottle shelves at the bar.’

Garcia observed the blond girl for a while. ‘You’re right. She just checked herself again.’

Hunter smiled before carrying on. ‘Her parents are rich and she’s proud of that. She makes no effort to hide it from anyone and she knows how to spend their money.’

‘Why do you say that?’

‘She’s drinking champagne in a bar where ninety-five percent of the customers order beer.’

‘She could be celebrating.’

‘She isn’t,’ Hunter said confidently.

‘How do you know?’

‘Because she’s drinking champagne and her friend is drinking beer. If they were celebrating her friend would be sharing the bottle with her. And there was no toast. You always toast when you celebrate.’

Garcia smiled. Hunter continued. ‘Her clothes and handbag are all designer. She’s never placed her car keys back into her handbag, preferring to leave them on the bar in plain view, and the reason for that is probably because her key ring shows some prestigious car emblem, like a BMW or something. She’s got no wedding ring and anyway she’s too young to be married or have a well-paid job, so the money has to come from somewhere else.’

‘Please go on.’ Garcia was starting to enjoy the exercise.

‘She’s got a diamond-encrusted W on her necklace. I’d say her name would be either Wendy or Whitney, those being the two favorite names beginning with W of rich parents in Los Angeles. She loves flirting, it boosts her ego even more, but she prefers more mature men.’

‘OK, now you’re pushing it?’

‘No I’m not. She only returns eye contact from more mature men, ignoring the flirtation of younger guys.’

‘That’s not true. She keeps on checking out the guy standing next to her and he looks quite young to me.’