The Wedding Guest (Alex Delaware #34) - Jonathan Kellerman Page 0,3
VIP area?”
“Doesn’t look like it ever was one, nothing pimped-up about the second floor.”
“Maybe back in the day this place was a pioneer of income equality.”
* * *
—
He huffed and began climbing the stairs. At the top, a third left took us down a narrow, low-ceilinged hallway. Four doors, three of them closed.
A suited, gloved, and masked crime scene tech squatted near the open door. Beyond her was a small bathroom. Urinal and sink to the left, wooden stall straight ahead. The floor and walls were inlaid with yellowish tiles that had once been white.
Cramped, windowless space. A mélange of foul odors.
The stall door was propped open. A dark-haired young woman lay facing us on the floor. Late twenties to early thirties, wearing a blood-red, one-shoulder dress that had ridden up to mid-thigh. Pantyhose trailed up to what looked like red bicycle shorts.
She was diminished by death but still beautiful, with smooth skin and delicate features. Hints of cream in her skin where the terminal pallor hadn’t set in.
Luxuriant wavy black hair fanned the dirty floor as if arranged that way.
I asked if it had been.
Milo said, “Nope, the girl who found her thought she was sleeping, poked her, and she slid and ended up like this.”
The tech lowered her mask. “Hair falls that nicely, you’ve got a good cut.” Young, Asian, serious. “I’m not being mean, she hasn’t skimped. The dress is Fendi, the shoes are Manolo, and the hair is awesome.”
Milo said, “Thanks for the tip.”
I said, “The girl who found her, what was she doing up here?”
Milo said, “Trying to find a place to pee. She knew about this john because she’d been up here before the wedding. One of the bridesmaids. Those other rooms are where the wedding party got dressed and prepped.”
The tech pointed to a yellow pool to the left of the body. “That’s from the girl who found her, not the victim. Her bladder didn’t hold out.”
I said, “Where is she?”
“In Moe’s group.”
I studied the body. Didn’t need to get close to see the ligature band on the dead girl’s neck. Deep enough to cut into flesh and create a blood-flecked necklace.
“Garrote?”
The tech said, “Looks like something thin and strong, like a wire.”
“Or a guitar string. Any musicians at the wedding?”
Milo said, “A maniac into real death metal, downstairs? I should be so lucky. Nah, just a deejay.”
I said, “A bit more pressure and we’d have a near decapitation.”
Both of them looked at me. “No insight, just an observation.” But I wondered about the precise exertion of force.
I turned to the tech. “Strangulation but she didn’t evacuate?”
The tech said, “She actually did a bit—there’s a little mess under the dress but she’s wearing a body shaper and it held stuff in.”
She lifted the dress, pointed to the girl’s inner thigh. The suggestions of a stain where the pantyhose met the shaper. “Not much from what I can see but we’ll know more when she gets to the crypt.”
She shrugged. “She doesn’t look like she needs a shaper. Maybe she’s a body perfectionist, didn’t eat much beforehand ’cause she wanted to rock the dress and that’s why there’s not a whole lot of feces. Or she’s just not a big evacuator, some people aren’t.”
Hearing the woman discussed that way, seeing her exposed, made my throat ache. I turned away and waited until the red dress was dropped back into place. “What makes you figure an hour ago?”
Milo said, “Leanza Cardell—girl who found her—said she was cold, so at least an hour.”
The tech said, “Liver temp fits one to three hours, but you know how that is, this ain’t TV.”
I said, “When did the celebration start?”
Milo said, “Ceremony was at a Unitarian church in the Valley at five. Reception was called for seven but you know traffic, my guess would be seven thirty, eightish but I’ll confirm.”
“It couldn’t have happened too early, with the rooms being used for the wedding party. So maybe closer to nine.”
He thought about that. “Good point.”
The tech nodded.
I said, “C.I.’s are gone already. Easy I.D. or none?”
Milo shook his head. “Zip. She’s dressed for the wedding but Leanza doesn’t know her and she claims to know everyone from the bride’s side. Which is most of the crowd. I took a screen shot of her face, sent it to the Three Musketeers. Once you agree, they’ll start showing it to the guests and the staff.”
“Why wouldn’t I agree?”
“I dunno, maybe you had some psychological thing in mind.” He looked