Page 46 of The Perfect Accomplice

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.

---