“Then I guess we just walk straight in,” she said, getting out of the car.
She marched up the sidewalk, with Sam hurrying to catch up. By the time she reached the path leading up to the Tanaka’s Mediterranean-style mansion, the various news crews had swarmed her.
“Is this the work of a serial killer, Ms. Hunt?” one female reporter asked with surprising restraint before her voice was drowned out by a cacophony of shouted questions. “Is this a hate crime?” “Does the killer hate immigrants, women, or both?” “Is this case getting special treatment because of Edward Cain’s donations to police causes?”
She pressed ahead, pretending to ignore all the questions. The reporter asking about Cain got a little too close, bumping into her and making her stumble slightly. She had to fight the urge to give him a shove.
Luckily, Sam did the honors, “accidentally” slamming into the guy as he tried to clear a path for them. As they ducked under the police tape, an officer held up his hand, indicating that the press couldn’t go any farther.
When they reached the front door, an officer that Jessie vaguely recognized but had never met greeted them. He was very tall—easily six foot four—with thinning brownish-gray hair anda neatly trimmed mustached. Jessie guessed that he was in his late thirties.
“Come on in,” he said, “we can do introductions away from the prying eyes of the media.”
“Thanks,” Sam said as they stepped inside the foyer and waited for him to close the door. Once he did, the noise from outside was quickly muffled.
“I’m Sergeant Garrison Matheny, Wilshire Station,” he said, shaking their hands. “Thanks for getting here so quickly.”
“Not a problem,” Sam said. “I’m Detective Sam Goodwin. This is our profiler, Jessie Hunt.”
“Good to meet you,” Jessie said.
“Likewise, Sergeant Matheny replied. “Before I fill you in, maybe you should tell me what you already know so I don’t repeat old information.”
“Our research team filled us in on the basics on the drive over,” Jessie told him. “Please let us know if we have any of this wrong. But from what we understand, the victim is Yuki Tanaka, age 30. She’s been a resident of the U.S. for five years and married David Tanaka three years ago. He’s 33 and is a marketing executive with a studio. We were told that, like the victim from this morning, she was found in the dining room with puncture wounds to the neck and chest, and that there was a green card on a plate at the table.”
As she described what they knew, Jessie once again found herself wondering why the killer would use scissors. They seemed so inefficient compared to a traditional knife. In fact, their use seemed so intentional that she felt it had to be significant in some way. But how?
"That's all correct," Matheny said. "We've only been here for about half an hour. The M.E. and crime scene folks arrived about fifteen minutes ago."
“Any conclusions yet?” Sam asked.
“I don’t want to get anything wrong so I’ll let them update you directly,” he said. “Here’s whatIcan tell you. The body was found by the couple’s housekeeper, name of Alina Arturo. She said she usually comes on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. But the Tanakas were having a dinner party tonight and Yuki asked if she could come today as well. Arturo said that when she arrived, the door was unlocked.”
“Is the husband here?” Sam asked.
“No,” Matheny explained. “Apparently, he had to attend some studio premiere events in New York this weekend. We tried to reach out but he’s on a flight back right now. We don’t believe he’s aware of what happened yet and sent officers to meet him when he lands at LAX. We want to get to him before the media does.”
As Jessie listened, she noticed that the hallway leading away from them had paw print tracks. As she squinted, she got an odd shiver up her spine. The prints had the rusty color of blood to them.
“What’s this all about?” she asked pointing at them.
“Those are from the Tanaka’s miniature schnauzer. It’s covered in the blood. We think that she curled up near the body. There’s a dog-sized indentation in a bloody section of carpeting next to Tanaka’s head.”
Jessie allowed a moment for his words to sink in. The thought of Yuki Tanaka’s small dog snuggling up next to her dead owner gave her a new kind of pang. The awfulness of this case matched that of any other she’d encountered. But somehow that detail unsettled her in a way she’d never experienced before.
“Can you take us to the dining room please?” she asked quietly.
Matheny led the way, although they could have found it themselves just by following the paw prints.
“Where’s the housekeeper now?” Sam asked as they walked down the hall.
“She’s in the backyard with a support officer,” Matheny said. “She’s clearly in shock but was able to answer our questions coherently. Hopefully she can do the same for you.”
When they reached the dining room, Jessie was slightly surprised to see that Cheryl Gallagher was here too. The deputy medical examiner was on the other side of the dining room table. Yuki Tanaka was not sitting in the chair next to the plate with the green card. Jessie noted that the chair had blood stains on the back. She suspected that the body might have slipped off the chair and was lying on the carpet, which would explain how Mitzi got so close and bloody. Gallagher looked up and saw them.
“When I heard about the circumstances of the case, I volunteered,” she said, answering their unasked question. “I figured that if anyone could pick up on patterns between the crime scenes, it would be me.”
“Sounds reasonable,” Sam said. “Pick up on any yet?”
