Bailey and I watched him. “Fellini wasn’t really stretching much, was he?” I said.
Bailey’s mouth twisted in a half smile. I knew it was all she could manage. “Want to head over to the coroner’s?” she asked.
“Sure. And we need a specialist to look at that plant debris.”
“Dorian’s probably already got someone.” Bailey got back on the freeway and headed for North Mission Road. “I’ve been wondering whether the aunt…”
“Janice.”
“Right. Whether she was lying? Now that we know Brian’s in New York, since he used Hayley’s iPad there…”
I’d been thinking about that too. “She sure didn’t sound like she had anything to hide. But then again, you never know.”
Bailey nodded. “Just wondering.”
“Did you ever find out what name that ticket to Paris was purchased under?”
Bailey smacked the steering wheel. “Damn. I’ll check into it when we get back.”
The coroner’s office was a bust. The pathologist who was assigned to our case, Dr. Vendi, wasn’t available, and Scott was out in the field, so I couldn’t bribe him into giving us a look at any preliminary notes. Bailey left instructions to bag and tag the plant debris for analysis, just to be on the safe side, and we drove back to the Police Administration Building.
“Graden said he’d tell the brass about Hayley,” I said.
“I’m sure there’ll be a presser of some kind pretty soon, then. You better get ready.”
The murder of a superstar director’s daughter was big news, and that meant both Bailey’s shop and mine would be under siege. “I’ll make the call when we get upstairs.” It really wasn’t a DA’s bailiwick to talk to the press before there was a suspect in custody, but Vanderhorn would want in on it anyway. Thanks to yours truly, he could legitimately claim that the DA’s office was working closely with the LAPD. Just as Bailey was pulling into the parking lot, the clouds opened up and big fat drops began to splatter the windshield.
She looked up at the sky. “I got a feeling this one’s going to be the real deal.”
As if to prove her right, a deafening clap of thunder boomed and a jagged streak of lightning cut across the sky.
“Damn, it’s the apocalypse,” I said.
“And not a bit too soon.”
As we headed for Bailey’s desk, I was, for a change, presentable and ready to run into Graden. Of course that meant there was no way I was going to see him.
Bailey picked up a manila envelope that was on top of her in-box stack. “Looks like we got Brian’s birth records.” She handed the envelope to me and picked up the phone.
