“That sounds promising,” Sam said. Jessie turned around to see that he’d found her. He handed over the coffee he’d gotten her.
“Thanks,” she said, before returning her attention to Jamil. “So are we thinking that someone hacked into their membership rolls and is using it as a hit list?”
“There might be a less conspiratorial option,” Jamil said. “The program director, a woman named Elena Martinez, was fired three months ago, after allegations that she was embezzlingIILA funds. She was removed after a vote of the board. Both Tanaka and Williamson voted to let her go and Cain spoke in favor of her dismissal at the meeting where she was fired.”
“Wow, that feels like a pretty good motive,” Beth said from her desk.
“It could be,” Jamil agreed, before adding, “although it may be more complicated than that. The board has 11 members, including the president. So if it was Martinez who did this, I’m not sure why these three women—including one who wasn’t a board member—were targeted.”
“Maybe they were just the first ones and the other eight are at risk too,” Sam theorized.
“Should we send out warnings to the other board members?” Beth wondered. “Or to everyone who supported her firing at that meeting?”
“Let’s not jump to conclusions,” Jessie cautioned. “before we assume that Elena Martinez is on a killing spree targeting the people who fired her, maybe we should have a chat with her.”
“I have her home address,” Jamil said.
“That’s great,’ Sam said, “but since it’s approaching 8 A.M., maybe we can get her work address too.”
Jamil shook his head. “Based on everything I’m seeing, she hasn’t gotten another job since she lost the IILA one. I think the home address is probably your best bet.”
Jessie turned to Sam. “I guess I’m taking this coffee to go.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Jessie was wired on caffeine and adrenaline.
With rush hour traffic, it had taken them nearly forty-five minutes to get to Elena Martinez’s Hollywood apartment. By the time they pulled up across the street at 8:30, she had consumed her entire 20-ounce coffee.
“Should we request backup?” she asked as they got out of the car.
“I think we should be okay if we proceed with caution,” Sam said. “I figure that there’s no reason to overreact. After all, if she’s innocent, she should still be willing to share information on the victims, even if she resented them. And if she’s guilty, us showing up shouldn’t automatically freak her out. She’d have to assume we’d want to question her, considering the IILA connection. Still, I’ll have my holster unsnapped.”
Jessie was less sanguine. If Martinezwastheir killer, that meant she’d assaulted three women with just a pair of scissors. That didn’t suggest someone who would automatically react rationally if the cops showed up at her door. But Sam was the detective, and when it came to stuff like police procedure, she was inclined to defer to his experience.
Martinez’s apartment was in a modern, six-story complex in the heart of Hollywood, at the corner of Sunset and Vine. Each unit had a good-sized balcony. The building had an exterior entrance, along with a locked interior one manned by a security guard at a desk in the lobby. Sam held up his ID when they got to the vestibule separating the entrances and the burly, bearded guard buzzed them in.
“We’re here to speak with Elena Martinez,” he said. “Do you know if she’s here?”
The guard’s eyes widened a little at the request. This might have been more excitement than he expected on a Monday morning.
“Actually, she is,” he said. “I just let her in about twenty minutes ago.”
“Do you know where she was coming from?” Jessie wondered.
"Yeah, there's an indoor rock climbing gym two blocks east of here," he said. "She likes to go there early most mornings before work."
“Before work?” Sam repeated, surprised.
“Yeah, I think she works at some immigration non-profit or something. She said it’s tough work and climbing is a stress-reducer.”
Jessie and Sam exchanged a knowing glance. Apparently Elena Martinez was keeping her employment status a secret, at least from the security guard. Whether that was out of embarrassment or fear that if word got out, it could put her home at risk, who knew? But she was clearly trying to keep it under wraps from some folks.
“We have her living in unit 404,” Sam said. “Is that correct?”
“Yeah,” the guard said. “Should I call up to let her know you’re coming?”
“Actually, we’d rather you not,” Jessie told him with a firmness that let him know it wasn’t up for debate.
