Page 10 of The Perfect Accomplice

“Hey,” he protested from the driver’s seat. “These Hollywood Hills streets are crazy. Do you want to make me crash?”

"Exactly," she shot back. "There are endless hairpin turns, and you're taking all of them at twenty miles over the speed limit. I know you're doing it just to freak me out, like you always do when we get up here. But it's not as amusing as you think it is. So please slow down or I will punch you again."

“It’s a little amusing,” Ryan insisted, fighting off the chuckle in the back of his throat.

“What’s going to be amusing is how pathetic you look sleeping on the couch tonight if you don’t reel it in, Hernandez,” she warned.

“Okay, okay,” he said, slowing down dramatically. “Besides, we’re here.”

He came to a stop in front of the address Parker had given them and grinned, delighted with himself.

“Do you think that pissing me off and making me carsick is the way to my heart?” she asked incredulously.

“I’m just trying to keep things spicy, Ms. Hunt,” he said, hopping out of the car. “Anger is just the flipside of passion, right?”

“When’s your next session with Dr. Lemmon?” Jessie wanted to know.

“Next week,” he said, “why?”

“Because I think you should run that theory by her and see if she approves of your methods. You might be surprised.”

She got out of the car and headed for the house without another word, happy to let him ponder if she was really mad or just messing with him. As she walked up the path to the front door, she did her best to put her mild nausea out of her head and focus on what was in front of her: a crime scene.

Like many Hollywood Hills homes on the cliffside of the street, the front of the house wasn’t especially memorable. It looked like a standard ranch-style house, likely built in the 1960s or 70s, at least based on the Brady Bunch-home style architecture. But as she knew from visiting many of these homes in the hills, looks were often deceiving.

If this house was anything like the others she’d encountered, the back would be much more impressive. Built into the side of the hills, these houses were often three or four stories, only going downward instead of up.

An officer stood guard at the front door, just inside the yellow police tape that warned onlookers away. Jessie showed him her identification just as Ryan caught up.

“Right,” the young officer said, “Sergeant Cutter has been waiting for you. Go on in. Everyone is in the living room, down the hall to the left.”

Jessie ducked under the tape and followed his directions with Ryan right on her heels.

“You’re not really mad at me, are you?” he whispered as they walked.

“That depends on how you drive back down the hill,” she told him.

Before he could respond, the hallway opened up to reveal a giant living room with floor-to-ceiling windows along the back wall. They highlighted a gorgeous view of the canyon and beyond that, downtown Los Angeles.

In the living room were multiple officers and crime scene techs. They all looked up when Jessie and Ryan entered. One of them, a thin, thirty-something guy with tightly shorn blond hair moved toward them.

“Thanks for coming,” he said, extending his hand and shaking both of theirs. “I’m Sergeant Mack Cutter. I’ve been holding down the fort until you could get here.”

“Nice to meet you, Sergeant,” Ryan said, and Jessie nodded in agreement.

"Same," Cutter said. "Sorry it's under these circumstances, but I've always wanted to work with the two of you. This is an honor."

“Thanks,” Jessie replied. “Mind if we dive right in?”

“Of course,” Cutter said. “The victim is outside by the pool. The crime scene unit is collecting evidence out there and in here. There’s no sign of forced entry. She had a security system, which wasn’t triggered, though there are no cameras. The coroner just left; said he’d have preliminary findings in a few hours but left his card if you want to get in touch before then. He wrote his initial impressions on the back.”

He handed over the card for Dr. Michael Roone, whom Jessie had never worked with. Jessie flipped it over to find several notes scrawled on the back. They read rough time of death between 6 p.m. and midnight. Cold weather complicates assessment. Clear evidence of strangling, likely cause of death, though not definitive yet.

"Well, that gives us somewhere to start, at least," she said, handing the card to Ryan.

"There's more," Cutter noted. "We've got the victim's assistant, who discovered the body in a back bedroom. Where would you like to begin?"

Ryan looked over at Jessie deferentially. “Thoughts?” he asked.

---