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“Harboring a criminal is in i
tself a crime,” Garcia interjected.
“I’m not harboring anyone,” Luke assured them. “I have absolutely no information on either pimps’ death.”
Catherine watched the detectives’ expressions harden and couldn’t help but think of Violet, who had the requisite long, blonde hair, but who didn’t appear to be strong enough to even slap a man, let alone plunge a knife into his guts. She raised her hand. “If I might be permitted to ask a question?”
“Yes, of course,” Detective Salzman responded defensively.
“You described the crimes as brutal. I thought the men were simply stabbed.”
Garcia rocked back on his heels and smoothed out the ends of his golden tie. “There are stabbings and there are stabbings, Mrs. Brooks. An enraged killer can murder a victim several times over with multiple stab wounds. The woman in red is so calm and cool, she uses a single deep thrust to the belly to slice through the aorta, and then widens the wound when she withdraws the blade.”
“That must take considerable force,” Catherine offered.
“Definitely,” Salzman agreed, “to say nothing of a vicious lust for blood.”
“Would a teenage girl possess that kind of strength?” Catherine asked pointedly.
“She must,” Garcia replied.
Luke knew where Catherine was heading and stepped in. “Mrs. Brooks believes your killer is a man in drag. He could be a rival pimp or someone who lost a daughter or sister in the flesh trade.”
Garcia and Salzman exchanged startled glances. “What an interesting theory, Mrs. Brooks,” Garcia responded. “Do you consult with many of the police departments in the county, or do you usually keep such imaginative thoughts to yourself?”
Clearly he believed that’s what she ought to be doing now, but Catherine refused to give in. “Sometimes the obvious is overlooked, but clearly the killer wishes to be seen. I’d love to hear your theory as to why.”
Salzman snapped closed her notebook and rose to her feet. “We’d really hoped you’d be more cooperative, Dr. Starns.”
Luke stood as she did. “Believe me, I’m the very soul of cooperation when it comes to the police, but there’s no evidence to convince me there’s even a tenuous link between the stabbings and Lost Angel.”
“You’re being deliberately obtuse, Dr. Starns,” Garcia shot back at him. “And don’t think we don’t recognize a diversion when we hear one. Most of the drag queens in Hollywood would faint at the sight of blood, so Mrs. Brooks’ theory makes as little sense as your refusal to help.”
Neither Luke nor Catherine responded before the detectives left the office. “I really thought detectives would be more open to a variety of possibilities,” she mused aloud.
“I’m sure they are when it’s their own ideas they’re considering. Come on let’s forget them and get some lunch.”
She preceded him through the door. “I doubt they’ll just disappear. Do you suppose they’ll keep Lost Angel under surveillance?”
Luke cursed under his breath. “Probably, which means I’ll have to discuss the murders at this afternoon’s counseling session.”
As they crossed the courtyard, she drew to an abrupt halt and tugged on Luke’s arm. “You’d know this. Aren’t the overwhelming majority of serial killers male?”
He nodded. “Yeah, they sure are. The next time Garcia and Salzman appear, and they will, I’ll remind them of it. I’ll also give you the credit for the thought, since they seem to be particularly incensed by your observations.”
“Why was that?”
“You made them appear incompetent, which is easy enough to do. What did you think of Garcia’s flashy tie?”
“I thought it an odd choice. Shouldn’t a detective strive to blend in rather than stand out in a crowd?”
Luke glanced toward the hall’s open doorway. He could hear laughter and the scraping of chair legs as kids got up to go back for seconds. His stomach growled, and he urged Catherine on toward the entrance. “They weren’t on a stakeout, so their clothes probably don’t matter.”
“Not yet, maybe, but are they likely to park across the street and watch for blondes?”
“Maybe I ought to ask Toby to entertain them,” Luke countered.
“Are you speaking to him?”
