The White Angel Murder Read Online Free PDF Page A

the living room. The carpet was tattered and cigarette burns adorned it like spots on a leopard. He noticed the sliding glass door. The frame looked worn, an off shade of gray. But the lock was new chrome.
    “ Did you guys replace the lock on the sliding door?”
    “ No,” the male said. “Why?”
    “ Is that the same lock as when you moved in?”
    “ Yup.”
    “ How long have you lived here?”
    “ Bout seven months.”
    Stanton began walking down the hallway and the male followed him. They walked into the bathroom and Stanton glanced quickly at the bathtub. He then went to the bedroom. The door was open and he walked in and stood in the entryway.
    There was a single bed and a nightstand, clothes strewn on the floor. One window overlooking the parking lot. He sat on the bed. The closet was full of sneakers and tank tops. A few posters of women in bikinis and Bob Marley were nailed up. There were no stains on the carpets other than cigarettes, nothing on the walls or ceiling. It now held only ghosts of what had happened.
    Stanton rose. “Thanks for letting me look around.”
    “ No worries. Hey, why were you wanting to look around anyway?”
    “ Someone came through here once that I wanted to see. But they’re gone.”
     

8
     
    Stanton walked into the little barbeque shack as soon as they opened. He had been waiting in the car until nine and watching the surfers pack up their things and head to their day jobs.
    The shack was much bigger than the exterior let on. There were at least twenty tables and a few booths. A large bar sat at one end and the kitchen was to the right of the entrance. It was dark and there were few windows, most of the illumination provided by neon beer signs throughout the space.
    “ Can I help you?” a young girl said.
    “ I’m looking for the owner.”
    “ Tim? He’s in the kitchen. I’ll get him.”
    Stanton went and sat at the bar. He ran his fingers along the top and felt the notches from drunks placing bottles down too hard. A small bowl of peanuts was next to him and he noticed a bottle cap inside.
    “ How’s it going?”
    Tim was tall with a belly and thick arms. He towered above Stanton and threw a rag he used to wipe his hands over his shoulder.
    “ Good.”
    “ I’m the owner. What can I do for you?”
    “ Jonathan Stanton. I’m with the San Diego Police Department. I’m doing some follow up on Tami Jacobs.”
    “ I smoke a joint in the back and you roll up in minutes. Beautiful young girl’s raped and killed and you can’t find who did it.”
    Stanton saw the anger in his face and said, “The Department’s got its head up its ass most of a the time. That’s why I’m here. I’m gonna find who did this.”
    The cadence and volume of his voice matched Tim’s.
    “ Yeah. Well, I ain’t got that much to tell you. Police already talked to me when it happened.”
    “ I know. But there was something I wanted to ask you about.”
    “ What?”
    “ You had her on the schedule to work a shift the morning she was killed. I don’t see her as a morning person. Did she always work them?”
    “ No, her shift was nights I think. If she was working morning means she traded shifts with somebody.”
    “ Do you know who?”
    “ Been too long, man. Couldn’t say.”
    “ Any way you could find out?”
    “ I don’t keep schedules for longer than a few months. Probably deleted it.”
    “ Could you check anyway?”
    “ Yeah, I guess I could.”
    Stanton placed his card on the table. “Thanks. Please call me if you find that name.”
     

9
     
    The body had stiffened to the consistency of a 2 x 4.
    It lay in the sand, one arm up, reaching for help that never came. The surf rolled in on the beach and the sun was rising above the horizon, painting the ocean a soft hue of orange.
    A group of sand crabs were crawling over the corpse and Maverick “Hunter” Royal kicked them off with his wingtips. One fell near him and he crushed it, a green gelatin splashing up over