Free The Assailant by James Patrick Hunt Page B

the murder weapon.”
    The girl was flopped forward onto the steering wheel.
    Hastings said, “Who found her?”
    â€œThe morning cleaning woman. She told the manager and the manager called us,” Escobar said. “The M.E. and the technicals are on their way.”
    â€œYou’ve spoken with the manager?”
    Escobar looked to Deputy Hill, the ranking patrol officer. Hill caught the questioning glance and said, “I did. He’s waiting in the office, if you want to follow up with him.”
    The detectives hesitated.
    Technically, it was outside the city’s jurisdiction. But there was less friction between city and county on such things than there would be between city and federal. For his part, Hastings had always held St. Louis County in fairly high regard. They were a professional outfit, and that could not be said of every law enforcement agency. Good leadership and a culture that did not foster or tolerate corruption kept them clean.
    Escobar was a county detective and Hastings was a municipal lieutenant. But they answered to different supervisors. Hastings held no rank over Escobar and they were both aware of this.
    Escobar said, “Well, George, I know it’s premature, but do you think this girl was killed by your guy?”
    â€œI don’t know yet,” Hastings said. “I’ll tell you what we’ve got downtown: a young call girl, probably high dollar, strangled by someone she seems to have willingly gotten into a car with. Idon’t really have any suspects. My leads are . . . well, she’s got a long list of clients and we have yet to go through all of them.”
    â€œWas she married?”
    â€œNo. We’ve checked to see if she had an estranged boyfriend. Someone outside of her work. But, again, it’s early.”
    Early. They were nearing the end of the first forty-eight hours and they hadn’t yet chased down all their leads. In fact, if someone wanted to be blunt, they could argue that they hadn’t really started. A sixty-year-old man whom they cleared and allowed to get on a plane. Well, at least they knew he hadn’t killed this one.
    Yeah, it was still in the early stages, and now another woman had been murdered. A city with a greater population of around two million, yet both detectives were beginning to believe that there was one killer involved. And if that was true, the killer had something of an advantage over them, because he was not waiting around for them to find him. He wasn’t staying still. He was looking for his next victim.
    Escobar said, “What else you got?”
    â€œNot much, I’m afraid. She worked for Tia’s Flower Shop. That’s an outfit run by Bobbie Cafaza. You know of her?”
    â€œNo. I never worked vice. Is she located in the city?”
    â€œYeah.”
    â€œWe believe this girl works for an agency called Treasures. You heard of that?”
    â€œNo. You?”
    â€œWe’re aware of it. It’s run out of North County. Spanish Lake,to be specific. Not a madam, but a guy named Roland Gent. Ever hear of him?”
    â€œNope.”
    â€œHe’s a sweetheart. Small-timer. But smart, though.”
    â€œAnyone talked to him yet?”
    â€œNo. Not yet. Listen, George, there may be different killers here. But if not, they may want to create a joint task force. Hell, they might even want to bring the feds in, give ’em an excuse to send their behavioral-science guys out here, tell us country boys about astrology and mama complexes and that sort of shit. Why don’t I call the chief deputy and you call your chief of detectives and let them decide how to proceed?”
    â€œI’m good with that,” Hastings said. “It’s your county, but would you mind if I spoke with the cleaning lady and the manager?”
    â€œNow?”
    â€œYeah.”
    â€¢
    Hastings corralled the manager and the cleaning woman in the motel’s front