by M. Z. Kelly
“They’ve got no employment records for him,” Selfie said. “We also talked to Mr. Bernstein. He didn’t remember him but said he might have been a temp. I guess they use a lot of temporary workers for odd jobs and security work.”
“We were able to get a photo of Galen Marshall from CRS,” Molly added.
She used a remote and his photo appeared on one of the monitors. I knew from the records we’d run that Marshall was thirty-six. He was rather plain looking, with brown hair and eyes. He looked like somebody you’d pass on the street and never think twice about.
“We blew up the group photos from the studio for the three years Reeder worked there and compared them with Marshall’s photo,” Molly added. “It doesn’t look like he was in any of the photographs.”
“If he was a temporary employee, it wouldn’t be likely,” Oz said.
Alex finally spoke up. “Like I said, we’re drawing blanks all around.”
I looked at Oz. “How do you want us to proceed?”
“Why don’t you plan on going downtown and meeting up with Leo. Maybe you can locate Quail and talk to him.” He turned back to Selfie and Molly. “Is there any point in going back to Bernstein Studios?”
He got two headshakes. Molly said, “I think it’s a dead end.”
Oz looked back at Alex and me. “Okay, maybe Leo has some ideas.” His vision narrowed on my partner. “Even if he is past his prime.”
NINETEEN
“Why don’t you keep your big mouth shut?” I asked Alex as he drove Selfie, Bernie, and me to meet with Leo.
As we were leaving the station, Selfie had asked to come along and Oz agreed. Alex had told our crime analyst that she looked ridiculous in her tiara and that she was about as far as you can get from being a beauty queen. Our crime analyst was upset and had quietly left the tiara at the station. My partner’s actions and insensitivity had irritated me to the point where I couldn’t keep quiet about what he’d said.
Alex glanced at me. “I’ve got a right to my opinion and I’m going to express it.”
I took several controlled breaths, ignoring him. Selfie was obviously still hurt by what he’d said and was sitting silently in the back seat with Bernie.
Alex went on, “And just so you know, I think talking to Reeder’s former boyfriend is another waste of time.”
“Okay, let’s hear it. You disagree with everything we do on this case. Why don’t you come up with a few ideas of your own? You complain about everything but offer nothing.”
“Afghanistan.”
“What?”
“Reeder was producing a series that was against the war in Afghanistan. I think somebody disagreed with what he was doing and ended his life.”
His theory had come out of nowhere and we had nothing indicating what he’d said had any validity. “Who do you think disagreed with him?”
Alex shrugged. “I’m not sure yet but I’m going to find out. I’m going to drop you and…” He glanced into the rear view mirror. “…the princess off at cold case so you can work with the dinosaur. In the meantime, I’ll pursue my own leads.”
I glanced at his fleshy profile, thinking he was not only ugly on the outside but also the inside. “That’s the best idea I’ve heard all day.”
After Alex dropped us off, we met Leo in his office. I briefly explained what happened. The big detective leaned back in his chair, interlocked his fingers behind his head, and smiled. “Alex and me had what you might call a difference of opinion. I think that’s the real reason he’s off working on his own.”
“What kind of difference of opinion?”
The smile was still there. “Let’s just say that your new partner got himself a giant wedgie.”
Selfie and I stared at one another, trying to suppress our laughter. “What caused that?” I asked.
Leo sat forward and shuffled the papers on his desk. “There are a lot of things I can tolerate in this life, but I draw the line when it comes to somebody disrespecting their elders.”
I understood what he meant. Alex had been dumb enough to tell Leo to his face that he was past his prime.
“Just for the record,” I said, “I think you’re prime time.”
He stood up. “I knew there was a reason I liked you. Let’s go talk to Jason Quail.”
As we drove, I took a moment and filled Leo in on my case with the feds, also mentioning that I’d probably have to go back to Denver at some point.
Selfie then told us she’d gotten hold of Galen Marshall’s mother before leaving the station, and she’d given her some details about his life. “According to mom, he’s pretty unstable and violent. He even had a couple of 5150 holds placed on him when he was younger and they lived up north.”
In California, individuals who were considered a danger to the health and safety of themselves or others could be detained with probable cause for up to seventy-two hours. The psychiatric hold for that evaluation fell under Section 5150 of the Welfare and Institutions Code. The designation was reserved for people with serious mental health issues and it told me that Galen Marshall was deeply disturbed.
Selfie went on, “Mom also said she thinks our boy is homeless, living in shelters. She gave me the name of an ex-girlfriend, Lisa Jones. I’ve got Molly trying to track her down.”
“Did you happen to ask mom if her son is left handed?” Leo asked.
I turned, seeing Selfie’s smile. “It was on our list of questions. She confirmed Galen is a leftie.”
Leo glanced in the rearview mirror. “Just so you know, sweetheart. I think you and Molly are, not only smart as hell, you’re damn fine to look at.”
I glanced into the backseat and saw that Selfie was blushing as she thanked him. Earlier, when our crime analyst had been busy with a phone call, I’d told Leo about Alex’s comments to her. I knew that the big detective had given her the compliment to bolster her fragile self-esteem. I was grateful for what he’d said.
Bruce Reeder’s best friend and former lover, Jason Quail, lived in a condo near Highland in Hollywood. We knew from record checks that he worked as an IT manager for a health care company. When we’d called and made arrangements to visit him he was reluctant to talk to us, but had agreed when I told him we’d come to his home if he didn’t want to meet us at his place of employment.
After introductions we took seats around a table that was filled with computers, where Reeder said he did a lot of his work. His condo was sparsely furnished and messy, with dishes piled up in the kitchen sink.
Leo began the discussion. “As Detective Sexton mentioned when she called, we’re taking another look at Mr. Reeder’s homicide. We wanted to get your perspective on things.”
Quail brushed the brown hair off his forehead. He was in his forties, with hazel eyes and a pinched forehead that looked like it could use a dose of Botox. “I don’t have a perspective. Bruce’s murder is ancient history. I have no idea why he was killed.”
“You were involved with him at the time of his death. Tell us about that.”
He shrugged. “We were in a relationship…” He sniffed. “We were in love…”
I had the sense that, after all these years, Quail still had feelings for Reeder. “Were there any problems in your relationship?” I asked.
Quail fixed his gaze on me. “Are you insinuating that I had something to do with his murder?”
I glanced at Leo, deciding to play hardball. “We’re the ones asking the questions.”
He broke eye contact and sighed. “We had our ups and downs. It was rocky at times but…” He looked at me again. “I had no reason to kill him.”
I sensed he wasn’t telling us something and played a hunch. “He was cheating on you, wasn’t he?”
I got another sigh and a nod. He hung his head, and brushed a hand through his hair. “Bruce had been seeing someone else before…” He took a moment, brushing the tears off his cheeks. “He wasn’t faithful.”
“Who was he seeing?” Leo asked.
Quai
l shrugged. “I don’t know. I just…I overheard a phone conversation he had with someone and later confronted him. He admitted the affair.”
“Did you break things off?”
He shook his head. “Like I said, I was in love with him. I couldn’t just walk away.”
I leaned in closer to him. “And you still have no idea who he was involved with?”
I got another headshake. “Maybe it was someone from the studio where he worked. I’m not sure.”
“What makes you think that?”
“Bruce was a workaholic, he was always at the studio. I don’t think he had time to meet anyone somewhere else.”
We left Jason Quail about forty minutes later, not getting anything more. We stopped for coffee at a nearby shop and talked about what we’d learned.
“Maybe we’re missing someone who was working at the studios with Reeder,” I said after sipping my latte. I looked at Selfie. “Are you sure that you and Molly cleared everyone in the photographs?”
“I think so, but we could go back and take another look.”
Leo agreed, “Let’s do that.” His eyes remained fixed on our crime analyst. “I was just thinking about what you said the other day, about this crime being personal. What we learned today might fit with that.”
Selfie smiled, probably appreciating his acknowledgment. She fingered a piercing above her left brow. “I also think there was a tipping point. Something happened between our victim and his killer that set things in motion.”
I agreed with her, adding, “Maybe Reeder was in a relationship with his killer and was also cheating on him. He doesn’t sound like the monogamous type.”
Selfie’s phone chirped. After checking the screen she said, “Molly just sent me an address for Galen Marshall’s former girlfriend. She lives over in Reseda. I’ve also got a number. I can try calling her and see if she’ll meet with us.”
I broke off a piece of my muffin and Bernie wolfed it down. “Go ahead.” I glanced at Leo. “Maybe our cold case is starting to heat up.”
***
Galen Marshall’s former girlfriend worked for a plumbing supply company. After Lisa Jones gave Selfie a half-dozen reasons why she couldn’t meet, Leo got on the phone. He used his deep baritone to get the point across. Jones relented and agreed to meet us at noon in a park that was near where she worked.
We found Marshall’s ex at a picnic table where she was working on a Subway sandwich. I knew from the record checks that Lisa Jones was twenty-eight and single. She was a pretty girl, with brown eyes and even features. It made me wonder what she ever saw in someone like Marshall.
After introductions, we took seats at the table. Bernie sniffed at some nearby dandelions before settling down as Leo explained why we were there. “Your former boyfriend is a suspect in a case we’re working. Do you know where he’s living now?”
Jones shook her head. “I have no idea and I never want to see him again.”
“Why is that?”
“Galen is…he’s not a very nice person. I just don’t want to have anything to do with him.”
I purposely softened my tone and said, “How long were the two of you together?”
She drew in a breath, and I sensed she was controlling her emotions. “I guess it was about three years, off and on. We broke up…” Her gaze drifted off. “I haven’t seen him in over a year.”
“You said Galen wasn’t very nice. What exactly did you mean?”
Her eyelids grew heavy. “He was…he hit me.” She blinked back her tears. “He was unstable, always accusing me of cheating on him. It wasn’t true.”
What she’d said made me think about Lindsay and sent a wave of depression through me. I tried to put the thought out of my mind and refocus on the task at hand. “Did Galen ever mention knowing a man named Bruce Reeder?”
“Not that I remember.”
“Mr. Reeder worked at Bernstein Studios as a producer. He was murdered about ten years ago.”
“Murdered?” She hissed out a breath, looking away.
“What about the studio? Did Galen ever mention it?”
Jones looked at Leo. “Actually, yes…at least I think it was the same studio. Galen said something about doing some work there once. I’m not sure what he actually did.”
My pulse quickened. “Do you know if he could have worked there about ten years ago?”
She shook her head. “I’m not really sure. I just remember him saying something about the people he worked with not being very nice.” Her forehead tightened. “Do you think…are you here because you think Galen murdered someone?”
Leo answered. “It’s possible. What else can you tell us about Galen?”
The anxiety in her voice increased. “Just that…like I said, he was mean. He didn’t really get along with anyone.”
“Was there anyone in particular he was having a conflict with that you remember?”
“He was just unhappy and blamed everyone for his troubles.”
“Did he ever mention a young woman named Carla Hodge?”
He shook his head. “Not that I recall.”
I decided to ask the money question. “What about knives, Ms. Jones. Did Galen own knives?”
She looked away but I saw her tears. Her voice was just above a whisper. “Yes. Lots of them.”
I reached over and touched her arm. “He hurt you, didn’t he?”
There was a nod, more tears.
I glanced at Selfie, then Leo, before asking her, “What exactly did he do?”
She brushed away her tears and didn’t answer right away. She controlled her sobbing long enough to reach down and lift up the bottom of her cotton blouse. She turned away, so that I could see her back.
“The bastard did this,” she sobbed.
I saw there were scars traveling the length of her back. One of the marks looked like the initials G.M. had been carved into her lower back.
After a moment, she pulled her blouse down and began crying again.
I gave her a moment, then asked, “Did you ever go to the police about what he did?” She shook her head. “Why not?”
She finally stopped crying and brushed her tears away. “Galen said he would kill me if I did. I believed him.”
After I told her how sorry I was, I pulled a photograph of the knife used to kill Bruce Reeder and Carla Hodge out of my briefcase and showed it to her. “Did you ever see Galen with a knife like this one?”
She sniffed and nodded. “It was one of his favorites. It’s the one he used on me.”
TWENTY
When we got back to the station, we met with Lieutenant Oz for a few minutes to update him on what we’d learned.
I told the lieutenant, “Galen Marshall’s ex-girlfriend and his former boss have now tied him to being in possession of the knife that killed both Bruce Reeder and Carla Hodge.”
“And Lisa Jones told us that Marshall worked at Bernstein Studios at one time,” Leo added. “There has to be a connection between him and Reeder.”
“We also talked to Jason Quail,” I said. “He said Reeder wasn’t being faithful to him. He wasn’t sure who he was involved with but said Reeder was a workaholic and it was probably someone from the studio.”
“Molly and I are willing to go back to the studio tomorrow,” Selfie said. “We’ll also take another look at the group photographs to be sure we didn’t miss something. Maybe Marshall changed his appearance over the years.”
“Tomorrow’s Saturday,” Oz said. “It can wait until Monday.” He turned to Leo and me. “Where is Alex?”
I shrugged. “He said something about having a theory that somebody Reeder worked with on his last production had it in for Reeder. He might have gone back to the studio.”
Oz’s forehead creased, but he didn’t respond. He looked back at Selfie and Molly. “I take it we still don’t have any leads on where Galen Marshall might be living?”
Molly, who had on a dress and heels, making me think she might have a date after work, answ
ered. “His mother thinks he’s homeless, so we might try the shelters.”
Bernie wandered over from the corner where he’d been resting. Oz nuzzled him as he spoke. “Let’s make that our priority Monday morning. It’s been a busy week. I want you all to have a nice weekend. We’ll get a fresh start on this Monday morning.”
After the meeting, I walked with Leo to the parking lot. It was the first time we’d been able to talk privately about the case I’d been working with the feds. His voice was full of concern. “Heard it was a pretty bad scene in Colorado. How are you dealing with everything?”
I took a breath, unsure how to answer. “I’m…I guess…” I saw no reason to sugarcoat everything. “To tell you the truth, I’m not sure. I don’t think what happened is over and I’m going to have to go back.” We stopped at my car. “I’m not looking forward to it.”
The compassion I saw in Leo’s eyes reminded me of Pearl Kramer. “I can understand. I worked some pretty bad cases back in the day.” His ever present smile widened. “All I’m saying is I’m here for you if you need anything.”
It was my turn to smile. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate that. It’s not like I can talk to my partner about anything.”
“Next time, try giving him a big wedgie. It might help loosen him up.”
***
Since my outing with Noah was tomorrow, I’d made an appointment for seven that night at my brother’s hair salon on Melrose. After leaving work I stopped and got a sandwich and then took Bernie to a park, where I gave him his kibble and took him for a walk.
I found Robin at his work station just after seven, tidying up. My brother has short, spiky brown hair and eyes the color of a summer sky. His back was to me and as I studied him for a moment, I thought about the long road he’d traveled before coming out as gay. I realized that I was closer to Robin than anyone else I knew and I was proud of the person he’d become.
After a hug I took a seat in his chair and said, “Big date tomorrow. I need your A-game.”
