“Lots of leads but nothing definitive yet,” she admitted. “We just got word a second ago that a local judge is going to approve a warrant to have unoccupied homes on the Strand searched. But he’s not letting us start until tomorrow at eight a.m. I guess he’s trying to find a compromise, but it doesn’t help us much. I’m worried about another attack tonight.”
“I can try to lean on him,” Decker offered. “But sometimes that backfires with judges in these independent jurisdictions.”
“That’s okay,” Jessie said. “I don’t want to risk him pulling the warrant altogether. Besides, we’re about to take another run at a suspect soon. His lawyer is on his way. We’re hoping we can still get him to talk.”
“Do you like him?”
“He doesn’t have a good alibi for any of the attacks. And he’s definitely a shady character. But is he a killer? Too soon to tell.”
“Well, keep me posted.”
“Yes sir,” she said and almost ended the call. But a thought made her stay on the line. “Captain, are there any plans for Garland Moses’s funeral? Is anyone planning anything?”
“I am,” he said, sounding surprised that she didn’t know. “He has a niece back east who’s coming out but they weren’t close. She asked me to handle things. There will be a service on Friday. He was Jewish and his faith prefers it happen sooner than that. But there’s been a massive outpouring from all over the country. At least fifty FBI agents plan to attend, several hundred LAPD folks as well. Even some families of victims are flying in to honor the man who gave them some measure of peace. We wanted to give them all time to make it. I assumed you’d want to be there.”
“Yes sir.”
“We’ll make sure to save you a seat. In the meantime focus on this case. But don’t forget to take care of yourself. You’re my top profiler now. I can’t afford to have you out of commission.”
“No sir,” she said before realizing he’d already hung up.
No pressure there.
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
The second Jessie stepped back into the station, she could sense that the energy of the place had changed.
Glancing through the window of the interrogation room, she saw that Barnard Hemsley’s attorney had arrived. Ryan was in the break area, having an animated conversation with Jamil Winslow, the police researcher they’d been working with all day.
For someone so young and inexperienced, Jessie had been impressed with him. He was only twenty-four and Manhattan Beach wasn’t exactly a criminal hotspot, so her expectations for the junior staffer assigned to them were low. But Jamil, short and skinny, was sharp, relentless, and seemingly indefatigable. Even at this late hour, he showed no sign of slowing up. He was also ambitious, having already asked if there were any openings at Central Station. She promised she’d look into it.
“What’s up?” she asked when she joined them.
Both men looked up at her. She could tell from their excited expressions that something had happened.
“Why don’t you tell her?” Ryan suggested.
The younger man nodded and dived right in.
“Lots of updates for you,” he said breathlessly. “First, the GPS on Hemsley’s phone shows him at his office at the time of all three murders, as well as the attack on Detective Hernandez. Of course, that proves little based on the theory that he could have left it there while committing the crimes.”
“Okay,” Jessie said. “That helps a little. We certainly can’t eliminate him based on that.”
“Right,” Jamil agreed. “But more interestingly, he had connections to both female victims. Detective Hernandez showed photos of both female victims to Brandee. She didn’t know Priscilla Barton. But she did recognize Kelly Martindale. She said that she and Hemsley would sometimes see Kelly out at clubs in the area with ‘an old dude’ that Barney knows.
“Barney and Carl are friends?”
“No,” Jamil corrected, “at least not according to Brandee. In fact, she said that Hemsley considers Carl an arrogant jerk. But they definitely know each other from when Hemsley lived on the Strand.”
“Okay, that’s something we can work with,” Jessie said.
“There’s more,” Jamil said. “Guess who owns the house Barnard Hemsley used to live in, before he sold it at a loss?”
“I couldn’t possibly.”
“Garth and Priscilla Barton! He sold them the place about a year ago.”
Jessie looked over at Ryan, who was smiling.
“What are the chances that these are all coincidences?” he mused.
“It’s a small community,” Jessie countered. “And knowing these people doesn’t mean he had a motive for killing them.”
“No,” Ryan conceded. “But it’s more than we had before. And if this is some kind of obsessive stalker fetish thing, we now have proof that he was at least aware of both these women. Plus, according to what Brandee told us, he has easy access to that brand of stockings. Tell her the other thing, Jamil.”
“Oh, right,” Jamil said excitedly. “Based on court records, at least three of Hemsley’s recent clients have homes within a block of either the Bloom or Landingham residences.”
Ryan picked up from there.
“So it stands to reason that he might have met with those clients at home, within peeping distance of the houses where these attacks took place.”
Jessie considered the information.
“All of that is supposition,” she pointed out unconvincingly. “None of it is definitive.”
“No,” Ryan conceded. “But nothing we’re finding makes him seem less guilty.”
Jessie nodded. She couldn’t argue with anything he’d said, though something still made her reluctant to jump on the Barney train.
“Let’s go talk to him and his lawyer,” she offered. “Maybe he’ll be chattier if confronted with all this. Thanks, Jamil.”
The young researcher smiled enthusiastically. Jessie suspected this was the biggest case he’d ever dealt with and he was riding the adrenaline high.
When they stepped into the interrogation room, Barney was seated, while his lawyer remained standing. The man was the same height as his client but perhaps a hundred pounds lighter and ten years older. He was bald, save for a narrow strip of gray along the back of his head. He had a mild manner which was reinforced by the sweater vest and Dockers he wore.
“Giles Orlean,” he said, extending his hand to both of them. “I represent Mr. Hemsley. It’s an honor to have such celebrated law enforcement personnel in our sleepy little town.”
“Not so sleepy of late, Counselor,” Ryan pointed out.
“And not so celebrated either,” Barney piped up. “Giles here told me about your reputation, Jessie. I didn’t realize you were the chick who was under fire for going on racist Facebook rants. Maybe that explains my unprovoked, violent arrest. Trying to overcompensate by bringing down a rich white guy, huh?”
Jessie held her tongue, fully aware that Barney was trying to bait her in front of his lawyer.