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“I think that these killers plan it all. They book the room, book the hooker, rape and kill her in a place that’s a contaminated crime scene by definition.
“Then they wash her off in the shower, clean up any hairs and fibers on her body.”
“Don’t forget the perfume.”
“Right, thank you,” I said. “Then they spray her privates, dress her up, comb her hair, and make her up like a little doll.”
“They used the suitcase to bring in the clothes. Used it again to take out the body,” said Jacobi. “That ‘bruiser’ simply rolls it out to the car.”
“And then they plant her so we can find her.”
I was about to wonder out loud where they got the clothes, when my cell phone rang.
It was Conklin.
“I ran Alex Logan’s name and credit card number, Lieutenant. Wait until you hear this. Alex Logan is a woman. I pulled up her license info—petite blonde, twenty-three years old. I think we found Caddy Girl.”
“What else have you got?”
“I went to her apartment building, Lieutenant. Nice place on Jones. According to her doorman, she hasn’t been home in a while. I also called American Express, and her card is active. There’s only been one charge in the last ten days. The Hotel Triton on September fifteenth.”
“I’ll call the DA. Get a search warrant for her apartment. Richie?”
“Yes, ma’am?”
“You’re gonna be a star.”
I hung up and turned to Jacobi, who was watching me, his fork in the air.
“What is it, Boxer?”
“Conklin made her,” I said. “The perps used her credit card to book Sandy Wegner and pay the hotel tab. Alex Logan is Caddy Girl.”
Chapter 63
I LOOKED OUT over the squad room the next morning, anticipating a giant leap forward in the Car Girl case.
The victims had names, and with that crucial bit of news, there was a decent chance that the lives of Alex Logan and Sandy Wegner would intersect in a big fat lead that would help us nail their killers.
I could see Jacobi and Conklin through the glass, working the phones, reaching out to the girls’ parents, when a beam of sunshine sailed past Brenda’s desk and came through the gate.
It was Claire with a young woman in tow. She rapped on my office wall, and I waved her in.
“Lindsay, this is Bunny Ellis.”
“Nice to meet you—and welcome.”
Claire’s new assistant had gray eyes, slightly crossed, and a gap between the front teeth of her Crest-strip smile. The cosmetic flaws made her look touchingly appealing.
“Bunny was helping me get Misses Wegner and Logan ready to be released to their families,” Claire said. “Tell the lieutenant what you told me, Bunny.”
“I’ve been sooooo fascinated by these murders, you know? Such young women and such brutal —”
“The short version, child.”
“I’m sorry. It’s about their perfume, Lieutenant Boxer. I noticed it when they were brought in, but I didn’t know it was important.”
“Please go on,” I said, thinking about that haunting scent the killers had sprayed on the young women’s genitalia.
