by M. Z. Kelly
There were more tears as Graham came over and hugged Erin Collins. We gave them another couple of minutes before the pastor began a litany of questions, apparently unconvinced of our findings.
After he ran out of questions, Graham called a couple of women who belonged to his church to come over and offer support. There was more crying before our victim’s mother became semi-coherent again. It took the better part of an hour before she could respond to our questions.
“When did you last talk to Jenna?” Ted asked, lowering his voice and softening the tone.
“About…I guess it was…Tuesday.” She looked at Graham for confirmation. Something about the look and the way they’d interacted earlier made me think they might be in a relationship.
“It was just before dinner, a little after four,” Graham confirmed. The pastor was a big guy, but soft in the middle like he didn’t get much exercise. He looked to be a couple of years older than Erin Collins. “She liked to walk on the beach at sunset.”
“Was Jenna having problems with anyone, maybe someone at school or her church who might have wanted to harm her?” I asked.
Graham answered, the angry edge in his voice resurfacing. “If something happened to Jenna it certainly didn’t have anything to do with our church. She was…” His eyes misted over and his voice became choked with emotion. “We’re like a family. This is completely devastating.”
“What about school?” I asked, looking at Collins. “Was Jenna having any problems there?”
A head shake and a sigh followed. She finally said, “Jenna was almost a straight-A student and had lots of friends. None of this makes any sense.”
“What about a boyfriend?” Ted asked. “Was your daughter dating anyone?”
Another head shake. “No.” There was a long moment of silence before she added, “Jenna’s friends were all dating but she wasn’t…” Collins’ watery gaze moved away from Ted and found me. “She wasn’t ready. My daughter was…she was still a little girl in many ways, unsure of herself.”
A few minutes later, while her pastor was making some more phone calls, I took Jenna’s mother over to an outside balcony where I closed the door behind us. I wanted privacy, a chance to talk to her away from Graham for a moment.
I found the woman’s watery eyes. “I need you to be honest with me. Was your daughter sexually active?”
Tears filled her eyes and she shook her head. “No…like I said, Jenna was…just a child in many ways.” Her eyes found me. “Was the girl you found…was she…”
I lied. “We’re not sure. I’m just covering all the bases.” I gave her a moment and then asked, “What about Jenna’s relationship with Mr. Graham? How did they get along?”
“Okay. Joshua’s strict and sometimes they argued but…he loves Jenna like a daughter.”
“You two are dating, I take it?” A nod. “Does he live here?”
She hugged her sides and nodded again. “We’ve been together for about six months.”
I turned as the patio door opened and Joshua Graham came outside with Ted following. The pastor said, “I’d like to be involved in any discussion. I’m like…” His voice became choked again. “We’re a family, so I’d like to help any way that I can.”
I decided that Joshua Graham was either a control freak or he was afraid of what Jenna’s mother might say to me. I turned back to Erin Collins. “Did your daughter have a tattoo?”
Collins’ voice pitched higher. “What?”
“On her ankle…a tattoo that said John 3:16.”
Collins tears came harder now. She nodded, her shoulders slumping as she sobbed.
“Some of the kids got together on a field trip,” Joshua Graham said. “It was misguided but I think it was their way of expressing…” He reached over and held Collins, unable to continue.
After a moment, I asked about the ring we’d found on Jenna’s body. “It was a gold band on her left ring finger.”
“What?” Erin Collins said. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
“I don’t remember Jenna ever wearing a ring,” Graham confirmed.
I gave them a few moments as they broke down again. Then I asked Jenna’s mother about her daughter’s relationships again. “Is there anyone you can think of who was causing Jenna any problems?”
She shook her head. “No…she was such a good girl…I can’t believe this is happening.” She broke down again. One of the women from her church who had arrived brought over a glass of water.
“Is Jenna’s father in the picture?” I asked, after she’d regained some composure.
“He’s an asshole,” Graham said, again answering for her.
I started to ask him what he meant when Collins said, “Martin’s not…we haven’t spoken in a couple of years. My ex is behind on child support so…I don’t even know where he’s living.”
While she went to retrieve Jenna’s father’s last known address, Ted asked Graham about his church. “It’s the West Fellowship Congregation, on Warner Street,” he said. “I’ve been the pastor there for…I guess it’s been almost two years now.”
I decided to see if he’d be truthful about his relationship to our victim’s mother. “You and Mrs. Collins…are you…together?”
His gaze held on me and he hesitated before finally saying, “We’ve been dating for about six months.” He paused and his eyes turned inward. “I’m not sure…”
He seemed unable to continue. “What aren’t you sure about?”
His eyes found me but then fell away. “While I’m a man of God, Detective, and I’ve had to deal with loss before, I’m not sure how we deal with any of this. It’s…” He glanced over at the women who had come over to offer support. “It’s testing my faith.”
My eyes held on Graham but I didn’t respond. I wondered if during a time when Erin Collins needed all the help and support she could get, her pastor and boyfriend could find the strength to provide it. I finally said, “How did you and Jenna get along?”
His watery eyes found me and his answer had a defensive ring to it. “She was like my daughter. There were no problems.”
We spent another forty-five minutes with Erin Collins and Joshua Graham, asking follow-up questions and providing details to Jenna’s mother about how she could contact the coroner’s office for details about the release of the body. We didn’t learn anything new, other than again being told that Jenna was pretty much liked by everyone, something that her mother’s church friends confirmed.
Before we left, I asked Jenna’s mother if we could see her room. “Why?” she asked, her watery eyes finding me.
“It would help us connect with her.” I held on her eyes. “I would greatly appreciate it.”
She clutched her sides and led us down the hallway. She opened a bedroom door and said, “I’ll wait for you in the living room.”
Ted and I spent about ten minutes in Jenna’s room, while Bernie sniffed around the floor. Her bedroom was typical of a girl her age, with posters of the band One Direction on the wall and dirty clothes piled in a corner.
I found a cell phone on her nightstand on top of a Bible. I took a moment, plugging in the phone to charge it before going through the call history, emails, and text messages. There was nothing that looked remarkable, just a few messages back and forth to girlfriends, most of them to someone named Susie.
When we left the room, I showed them the phone and asked about the text messages.
“Susie was…is Jenna’s best friend,” Erin Collins said, through her tears.
I glanced at the phone, back at her. “I have Susie’s phone number from her texts, but would you happen to have an address?”
She shook her head. “I’m not sure.”
“Did Jenna have a computer or an iPad that she used?”
A head shake. “Just her phone.”
Before leaving, we got permission to take Jenna’s phone and said that we’d be in touch. As we closed the door I saw Erin Collins, her pastor, and his flock all fall in
to one another’s arms, sobbing.
After we got to the car and I’d settled Bernie into the backseat, I said to Ted, “It seems like our victim was almost too good to be true.”
Ted held on my eyes for a moment before starting the car. “Maybe she was. Hard to say.”
“And Joshua Graham?” I didn’t give anything up regarding my feelings about the pastor, wanting Ted’s impression.
His gaze drifted off. “Not sure, but he seemed a little…” His eyes found me. “Maybe a little intense.”
I knew that we’d both picked up on the same bad vibe. “Let’s run a record check on him. See what, if anything, we turn up.”
Ted agreed with me as he pulled away from the curb and then said, “I wonder how he really got along with Jenna.”
As we drove to the coroner’s office in Los Angeles my gaze drifted to the blur of traffic around us. I closed my eyes for a moment. I again saw the dead girl who had haunted my sleepless night and asked, “Did Joshua harm you, sweetheart?”
The question remained in my mind, along with images of Jenna Collins. I didn’t get an answer, but I promised myself that I would find out everything I could about Joshua Graham.
SEVEN
Ted and I spent the rest of the afternoon in the autopsy suite at the coroner’s office in downtown Los Angeles. Brie was methodical as she worked over our victim, going over each step of the procedure. I’d seen a lot of autopsies but it never got any easier, especially when the victim was a young girl who had her life snuffed out almost before it had begun.
When she was finished, I took a seat across from my friend in her office to go over the findings. Ted had excused himself to use the restroom, so we chatted for a moment. Brie seemed exhausted and I thought it might have something to do with the age of our victim. I then asked about her new living arrangements. She and Phyllis, or Phyl as she sometimes called her boyfriend, had moved from the carriage house at Ravenswood where Brie had lived after separating from her husband.
“I rented a house over in Monterey Park that’s just a few minutes from here,” Brie said, brushing her dark hair from her eyes. “It’s small but convenient.” Her gaze found me but then moved off, losing focus.
I regarded her for a moment. “Is everything okay with you?”
We heard a door close as she found my eyes again and said, “I’m just a little tired.” I saw that Ted was heading in our direction as Brie added, “Would you have some time to go out for coffee tomorrow?”
I reached across the desk and squeezed her hand, sensing that she needed to talk. “I’ll make time. Let me see how my day shapes up in the morning and then I’ll send you a text.”
Ted took a seat next to me and nuzzled Bernie for a moment as Brie began summarizing her findings.
“I’m pretty confident that the TOD was thirty-six to forty-eight hours before we examined the body yesterday. The petechial bleeding is indicative of a lack of oxygen. But the markings and bruising around our victim’s neck are very faint. It’s likely consistent with some manual manipulation, but I don’t think this was your typical strangulation.”
I glanced at Ted, back at Brie. “You think something else constricted the airflow?”
“I think she was held down and manually restrained, but it’s possible a plastic bag was used to inhibit the air supply.”
Just the thought of the way she described Jenna Collins being murdered sent a shiver down my spine. “Anything in the way of trace or DNA?”
Brie shook her. “No signs of defensive wounds either. She was sexually assaulted but there’s nothing in the way of semen. If there was other evidence it was probably lost when the body was washed.”
“Not much to go on,” Ted said. “Any thoughts on the insects?”
Brie met his eyes. She tried to speak in a controlled manner. “There were several stings in the mouth and…”
When she didn’t go on, I thought she might be struggling with her emotions. I was also horrified by what she’d said. “You mean the wasp was inserted before…”
“Yes, the stings were pre-mortem. The wasp and spider must have been inserted sometime before she was asphyxiated. It’s also possible that the airway was constricted and she went into anaphylactic shock as a result of the stings. We’ll know more when we get the test results back.”
Ted and I exchanged a glance, shocked by what she’d said. Brie then went on, “As I mentioned before, you’re going to need to talk to an entomologist.”
I glanced at my phone, maybe trying to take my mind off what she’d told us. I checked an earlier message. “I got a text from Selfie. We have an appointment at UCLA at five.”
Brie retrieved the insect specimens she had removed yesterday and handed over the plastic container. I heard the now familiar soft buzzing sound, indicating the wasp was still alive.
“There are a couple of other things,” Brie went on. “The body was washed with sodium hypochlorite. It’s a household bleaching agent, commonly found in a variety of over the counter products, but it can also be formulated as a germicidal soap that’s often used by morticians during the initial cleansing of a body.”
“Maybe our guy works in the funeral industry,” Ted speculated, before Brie went on.
“The body was also sprayed with a chemical called Chlorpryifos. It’s a crystalline chemical compound that’s used in residential and commercial settings to control insects. The same substance was found sprayed around the body.”
“He wanted to preserve the girl,” I said, giving voice to what had come to mind while at the crime scene. “He also wanted the scene to look untouched.”
Brie’s eyes held on me. “That seems likely to me.”
We were quiet for a moment before Brie told us about one other finding. “The skin around the gold band on our victim’s ring finger is un-calloused and there’s no differentiation in the melanin coloring beneath the ring and surrounding tissues. I don’t think it’s something our victim wore every day. It could have been placed on her finger, either postmortem or just before death.”
After saying our goodbyes and me telling Brie that I’d text her about going for coffee tomorrow, Ted and I walked to our car. We stopped in the parking lot and I let Bernie sniff around a flowerbed as we talked about the autopsy findings.
“We need to check with the local morticians and mortuary schools, run record checks, and see if anyone has a record,” Ted suggested.
My gaze wandered over to the city skyline. The day was clear and cool, in contrast to yesterday’s rainstorm. I looked back at Ted. “We can put Selfie and Molly on it. It’s also possible that our suspect bought the germicide used to wash her online. It’s probably pretty easy to obtain, but maybe we can trace any orders that were shipped locally by suppliers.” Bernie tugged on his leash, pulling me away from Ted for a moment.
My partner came over to us and I went on, “I still think the setting is the key to what happened. Our suspect wanted the girl posed, untouched by insects, so that she would look…” I searched for the words to explain what I was thinking. “…so that she would almost look like she was sleeping.”
“And he didn’t want any bugs around, except for the ones he put in her mouth.” Ted shook his head, his eyes now also finding the L.A. skyline. “It’s not only sick as hell, it’s pretty damn weird.” He then found my eyes again. “Any thoughts about the ring on her finger?”
I shrugged, remembering a case where an insane killer had symbolically married his victims before murdering them. “Maybe he had some kind of delusional belief that he was married to the girl. Not sure.” I checked my phone for the time. It was closing in on the rush hour and I knew that traffic would be bad. “It’s getting late. Let’s head over to UCLA. Maybe the entomologist can shine some light on a few things.”
***
Selfie texted us on the way to the university, telling us that she’d meet us there. When we met up with her in the parking lot, she told us, “My curiosity got the better of me, so I thought I’d
tag along and hear what the bug guy has to say.”
As we walked across the ivy-covered campus, I filled her in on the autopsy results, asking that she and Molly run record checks on anyone who locally worked in the funeral industry and might have a criminal record.
We stopped near an ivy-covered brick building. Selfie summarized her feelings about the case. “Even on the Hollywood scale of odd and creepy, this crime seems like it’s off the charts.”
I glanced at the building that announced it was the Department of Integrative Biology and Physiology, then back at Selfie. “Let’s hope our bug guy can help us put it back on the charts.”
A few minutes later we met with Dr. Barden Jernigan in an office that was lined with glass containers that held hundreds of insect specimens, most of which I’d never heard of or seen before.
After introductions, Selfie went over to the specimen cases and put on her glasses. Her eyes were distorted by the glasses when she turned back to Jernigan. “I had no idea there were this many bugs in the world.”
“A small sample,” the entomologist said, coming over to her as Ted and I followed.
The forensic entomologist was probably in his forties. His dark eyes seemed unnaturally large for a face that contained squat features. He was bald, except for a fringe of dark hair. His rather unattractive appearance made me think of something I’d once read about people eventually looking like whatever they dealt with in their jobs. Being a homicide cop, I hoped that wasn’t true.
Jernigan went on, “Depending on whom you ask, there are six to ten million species of insects in the world.” He removed his glasses and regarded Selfie. “And, please, don’t call them bugs. I detest the term.”
Selfie raise her pierced eyebrows, glanced at Ted and me, but didn’t respond.
We chatted about his collection for a couple of minutes. We learned that Dr. Jernigan had personally collected many of the insects on treks to every continent on the earth. We eventually took seats across from him at his desk as Bernie sat beside me, his tail rhythmically brushing the floor like a broom.
