CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN

Jessie parked in the Hollywood Green Thumb parking lot.

She and Ryan were listening intently on speaker as Sergeant Cutter updated them on developments in the case.

"I just got off with the coroner, Dr. Roone," he told them. "He says he discovered something that he didn't pick up in his initial exam of Chloe Henshall. There was a hair embedded in her neck that didn't match her own. He's trying to identify it now."

"Did he have any preliminary conclusions?" Ryan asked excitedly.

"Just that he tested it against hers and it didn't match," Cutter said. "He says it was so deep in the neck tissue that, if it wasn't hers, it almost certainly came from the murder weapon, which we know was leather. If that was a belt, he's hoping it might be a hair from the murderer, but since he doesn't have a suspect's hair to compare it to, he can't make any firm determination. He is testing it to see if he can determine any other markers that might be of use."

"Did he have a timetable for that?" Jessie asked.

"He thought he'd have something by tomorrow for sure but couldn't promise anything sooner than that."

"Would it help if I called and put the screws to him?" Ryan wanted to know. "We're worried about another murder today and every scrap of evidence could be a difference-maker. In fact we're about to question a suspect now and if we knew if that hair matched his, it would help enormously."

"To be honest, Detective," Cutter replied, "I think it would be counter-productive. Roone knows the stakes, and I could tell he was feeling the pressure. He"s not slacking, I assure you. I told him to call the second he had something, and he promised he would. I recommend we let him do his work."

Jessie tended to agree. When Ryan looked over, she silently nodded to let him know that.

"Okay, thanks Sergeant Cutter, "Ryan said. "You obviously know how to reach us, so we'll wait to hear back from you."

He hung up, and they got out of the car. As they walked through the parking lot, which was adorned with large potted plants placed in between parking rows, they reviewed what they knew about the owner of Hollywood Green Thumb.

"According to what Beth sent us," Jessie said, looking at her phone, "Karl Van Hart is forty-two. He emigrated from Austria fifteen years ago and has had this business for a dozen years. It was mostly a one-man operation for the first few years, just him and his truck. But about a decade ago, he got a few high-income customers in the Hollywood Hills and began to specialize in that clientele. He eventually hired a crew of gardeners and bought multiple trucks. Now, he has a staff of eight: two folks in the office and six gardeners in addition to himself. Apparently, he still occasionally does jobs for his most important clients."

"No criminal record?" Ryan asked.

"There was an issue with unpaid taxes to the city a while back," Jessie said, "but it looks like it was more of a miscommunication than anything. He paid the back taxes and hasn't had any hiccups since."

"Sounds like he's either a solid citizen or using that as a front for something nefarious," Ryan replied as they approached the front door. "Hard to give the guy the benefit of the doubt when he doesn't make an effort to get back to us about a murder investigation."

That conversation stopped as they walked in. The receptionist, a young woman with a short black bob, looked up at them with a plastered-on smile.

"How may I help you?" she asked.

"We need to speak to Mr. Van Hart," Ryan told her.

"I"m sorry but Mr. Van Hart has meetings for the rest of the afternoon," she said, trying to sound apologetic. "Perhaps I can help you, or we can schedule an appointment for another time. What"s this regarding?"

Even before he spoke, Jessie could see that her husband had lost patience with the niceties of the moment.

"It's regarding a murder investigation," he said, holding up his badge, "so he's going to have to push his meetings. Which is his office?"

The young woman gulped hard and pointed at the one closed door at the end of the hall.

"Thanks," Ryan said, starting that way.

Jessie followed him without a word. Once Ryan Hernandez got a bee in his bonnet, there was no point in trying to slow him down. She knew because she was exactly the same way.

Ryan opened the door and stepped inside. As Jessie did the same, she took in the situation. The entire office was a monument to Van Hart's work. There were plants on almost every surface, from bookshelves to counters to windowsills, as well as two tall ones rising from large pots on the floor.

Van Hart was seated behind his desk, also littered with small plants, talking on the phone. The man had longish black hair, a neatly trimmed beard and mustache and wore a work shirt.

"What is the meaning of this?" he demanded in an accent that was still strong but easy to understand.

"Hi Mr. Van Hart," Ryan said casually, as if his visit had been expected, "glad we could get together. I"m Detective Hernandez with the LAPD, and this is Ms. Hunt. We"ve been trying to reach you all day to have a friendly chat down at our station, but it feels like you"ve been ignoring us, so we thought we"d come to you. You might want to call your friend back."

Van Hart looked at the phone before realizing he needed to speak into it at that point.

"I'll call you back," he said quickly, then hung up and looked at them. "I got your co-worker's message, Detective, but I didn't know it was such a pressing matter. I thought I could call you at the end of the day."

"You didn't think multiple messages asking you to come in to discuss several murders involving clients of yours was pressing?" Ryan asked skeptically.

"No," he insisted, "why would a gardening service be important to such a thing? We just do our work and move on. With very few exceptions, I don't know the details of these people's lives. I assumed you were—what's the phrase—casting a wide net. I was happy to help but thought it was probably a waste of time. I'm sorry if I misinterpreted the importance of the situation."

Jessie was as dubious as Ryan. She couldn't think of very many people who wouldn't make a request to discuss a murder case a priority. To her mind, that was an indication of either idiocy, arrogance, or guilt. She wondered which best applied to Van Hart and decided to find out.

"You can make up for that ‘misinterpretation' by being forthcoming now, Mr. Van Hart," she said, cutting to the chase. "Have you ever personally worked at the homes of Erin Podemski, Sydney and Gabriel Ashe, or Chloe and Sean Henshall?"

The man paused, either stalling or trying to remember. "I used to do work for the Henshalls," he finally said. "They were one of my first clients and I went there with my crews as late as three or four years ago. But I eventually handed them off to others. As far as the Ashes go, I visited them for an initial consultation, along with a couple of my guys, when they were considering hiring me, but never actually worked at their home. The name Podemski doesn't ring a bell, which makes me think it was handled from the start by one of my team members."

"I assume you can check your database to see which of your team members did work at the Henshall and Podemski homes and joined you for the Ashe consultation?" Jessie prodded.

"Of course."

"Do that now, please," she told him. "Check for employees who have been at those homes in, say, the last six months."

Though he clearly didn't like being ordered around, Van Hart did as he was instructed. While he was searching, Jessie stood up and put her hands on his desk, leaning forward as if she wanted to look at the monitor. But in truth, she had a different motive for her actions.

She'd noticed a single hair lying on the surface of Van Hart's desk and thought it could be used to compare against the one found in Chloe Henshall's neck. She pinched the hair between her thumb and forefinger, then stood upright to await the results of Van Hart's search. It took less than thirty seconds for him to come up with an answer.

"Only two of my current people have been to all three properties in that time. One, Roberto Garza, is currently on his honeymoon in Acapulco. He got married last weekend and won't be back until Sunday. The other is one of my team captains, Emilio Vega. He's currently out on a job."

"Tell us about Emilio," Jessie said, sitting back down.

Van Hart shrugged. "He's a hard worker, has been with me for almost a decade. He's maybe forty, divorced I think. I don't really get into my people's personal lives that much."

"Where is the job he's currently working?" Ryan asked.

"In the Hills, like almost all of them."

"Is he leading a team today?" Jessie asked.

"No," Van Hart said. "This is a smaller maintenance job, just some mowing and pruning a few trees. It will probably take less than two hours."

"We need the address," Ryan said.

Van Hart wrote it down and handed it over.

"Thanks," Ryan said, handing over a card of his own. "Now I want you to call this number and ask for Jamil Winslow. Give him everything you have on Vega, from address to social security number, got it?"

Van Hart nodded nervously. Ryan started for the door, but Jessie held back a moment.

"And Mr. Van Hart," she warned. "Please don't call Vega to let him know we're coming. That could be construed as aiding and abetting. You don't want that."

Van Hart nodded again, and as she left, Jessie noted with satisfaction that whatever arrogance the man had displayed when they entered was now gone.