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of Mary Smith's landscape all along. She started with him, and now, I don't
know, maybe she's ending with him. Maybe this represents some kind of closure
for her. Maybe her story is over."
"Doubtful," Fielding said, without even looking at Page. "Too much anger
expressed here. Too much rage in Griner's murder. Have you seenThe Grudge ?
Not important. Forget I said it."
"What about the blue Suburban?" I asked. "Any progress there?" As of that
afternoon, LAPD hadn't turned up anything promising, which was a little
surprising given the urgency.
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Fielding pulled out a handkerchief, took off his glasses, and began to polish
them before he spoke. "Nothing yet," he finally said. "But as long as you
brought it up, let me make one thing clear. I'm not Detective Galletta. I'm
her boss, and I'm not going to be checking in with you at every turn.If the
Bureau wants to take full jurisdiction on this case, they could argue for it.
After the way things have gone around here, I'd almost welcome it. But until
then, you just do your job and try not to screw up my investigation any more
than you did Detective Galletta's. I hope we're clear."
It was bald cop-to-cop loyalty. Without asking a single question, he decided
I had wasted the case for Jeanne. I'd seen this kind of thing before, even
understood it a little. But I couldn't keep quiet now.
"Little piece of advice," I told him. "You should know what you're talking
about before you start throwing accusations around. You're just going to make
your own job harder."
"I don't see how that's possible at this point," he said curtly. "Now I think
we've covered everything. You know how to reach me if you have questions, or
hell, even if you have something that will help us out."
"Absolutely."
I could have punched him in the back of the head as he walked away. It was
maybe the only thing that could have taken our first meeting to a lower level.
"Great guy," Page said. "Lots of personality, social skills, the whole
package."
"Yeah, I'm all warm and fuzzy inside."
Instead of dwelling on it, I turned back to the work. If the lines of
communication with LAPD were going to be strained further, we needed our own
analysis more than ever. Page didn't ask me to, but I walked him through my
process. We worked in a spiral out from the bodies, as anyone else would, but
much more slowly.
First we covered the condo, inch by inch; then we worked out to the hallway,
front and back stairs, and then the grounds around the building.
I was curious to see how Page's patience held, or if everyone his age was too
hurry-up to do this work right. Page did just fine. He was really into the
case.
We were outside when we got word from the Bureau's electronic surveillance
unit. At 5:30 that morning, another e-mail had shown up at Arnold Griner'sL.A.
Times address.
A letter from Mary Smith had arrived  written to the man she had just
killed.
Chapter 73
To: agriner@latimes.com
From: Mary Smith
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To: Arnold Griner:
Guess what? I followed you home to your new apartment, after you had dinner
with friends at that Asia de Cuba place on Sunset.
You parked under the building and took the stairs up the back. Huffing up a
single flight? I could see that you're out of shape,Arnold . And out of time,
I'm afraid.
I waited outside until your apartment lights came on, and then I followed. I
wasn't as afraid anymore, not like I used to be. The gun used to feel strange
and unwieldy in my hand. Now it's like I barely know it's there.
You haven't installed a dead bolt on your back door. Maybe you've been
meaning to but you've been too busy with the move; or maybe you just felt a
little safer in the new place so it didn't seem to matter. You'd be right
about that last part. It doesn't matter not anymore.
It was dark in the kitchen when I came in, but you had the lights and TV on
in the living room. There was also a carving knife on the counter next to the
sink, but I left it where it was.
I had my own, which is something you probably already knew about me  if you
read my other e-mails.
I waited for as long as I could bear to in the kitchen, listening to you and
your companion. I couldn't hear exactly what you were saying to each other,
but I liked the sound of your voices. I even liked knowing that I'd be the
last person to ever hear them.
Then the nervousness started to come back. It was just a little at first, but
I knew it would get worse if I waited much longer.
I could have left the condo right then if I wanted to, and you'd never even
have known I was there.
That's one way you're like the others. No one seems to know I'm around until
their time comes. The Invisible Woman, that's me. That's a lot of us,
actually.
When I waltzed into the living room, you both jumped up at the same time. I
made sure you saw the gun, and you stayed still after that. I wanted to ask if
you knew why I came for you, why youdeserved to die, but I was afraid I
wouldn't finish if I didn't do it right away.
I pulled the trigger, and you fell flat on your back. Your roommate [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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