The temperature had shot up to the mid-seventies, causing Frank Gonzales to sweat even more profusely. He had called Rachel into his office the following morning to discuss the forensics results from Phoebe’s apartment.

‘Checking the vacuum cleaner was a smart idea,’ he conceded. ‘Someone emptied it, but there were a few long blonde hairs still in there. Preliminary results show some were Phoebe’s; some were not. We’ve requested further analysis on those.’

‘Any other results back?’

Gonzales shook his head. ‘Everywhere had been scrubbed down with bleach and ammonia. Same with the linens and Phoebe’s clothes: every single item had been washed at high temperatures and steam pressed. Every dish, plate and fork had been put through the dishwasher; the garbage pail was empty, and bleached. Never seen a crime scene like it; not in thirty years.’

‘Wow.’ Rachel leaned back in her chair.

‘So I talked with Mr and Mrs Stiles and they said this wasn’t like Phoebe at all. She was messy, kind of sloppy. Left dirty clothes where they fell, never cleaned the kitchen.’

‘Could a maid have cleaned it?’

Gonzales shook his head, which made the beads of sweat on his forehead trickle towards his nose. ‘I don’t think so. The real estate company that Phoebe rented the place from didn’t provide any sort of maid service, nor did the building’s management. And it’s unlikely that Phoebe could afford that kind of additional service.’

‘Officer Brading said forensics found something on the floor?’

‘That’s the good news. In the hallway there were traces of materials associated with body decomposition. They contain Phoebe’s DNA.’

‘So… it’s likely she died there and was kept there for a while.’

‘It looks that way.’

Rachel fixed her gaze on Gonzales’ face. ‘The person who cleaned up is our killer.’

He shrugged. ‘Or an accomplice to the killer. There were some skin cells that weren’t Phoebe’s found on the cushions: another good call. I’ll update you when we have those results.’

‘Lieutenant, I think we may have to review the timeline; specifically, time of death. Phoebe shot a commercial on the second of February.’ Rachel pulled a package out of her bag. ‘This was delivered to my motel, just as I was leaving. It’s a disc of the footage, but I haven’t had a chance to look at it yet. Can we do it now? We probably ought to view it together.’

Gonzales looked uncomfortable. ‘Mr and Mrs Stiles are on their way here to sign the paperwork for the release of their daughter’s remains. They viewed them yesterday, against my advice. It was pretty rough on them.’

‘They might like the chance to watch this,’ suggested Rachel. ‘In fact, seeing her alive might be helpful.’

Rachel fought back a vivid mental image of Trevor and Pamela looking down at their daughter’s skeletal remains, sodden, half-dissolved shards of flesh still clinging to the bones. She cleared her throat, ‘Listen, I’m sorry I didn’t tell them how badly… how far gone she was. I should have done. I wimped out.’

Gonzales gave her a steady look. ‘I appreciate your honesty, Detective. There’s just no kind way to tell relatives something like that. I prepared them as best I could. Even so,’ he exhaled hard, ‘they still insisted on seeing her. I only hope it gave them some closure.’

‘Believing in closure’s a bit like believing in unicorns,’ observed Rachel, ‘It’s a nice idea, but that’s about all.’

---

The Stiles’ arrived ten minutes later, and the four of them went to a meeting room where there was a large computer monitor and space for four chairs. After a certain amount of wrestling with the technology, and calling for assistance, Gonzales played the CD.

‘Lovely Locks…’ breathed the voiceover.

The opening shot was of a girl running along a rain-streaked street. She was dressed in a flimsy red silk dress, stark against grey sky, dark brick and slick cobblestones. Within the five seconds or so of the shot’s duration she was drenched: her hair slicked around her face and neck. Cut to the head and naked shoulders of the girl, shampooing her hair with improbably lush suds (Nobody uses that much shampoo in real life, thought Rachel). Then a hairdryer was blowing through her gleaming blonde locks, fanning them. The final shot was the girl, impeccably coiffed with bouncing waves, looking back over her shoulder with a smug smile.

‘… makes long hair lovely again.’

There was the obligatory pack shot, then the footage came to an abrupt end.

Absolute silence.

‘She looks very pretty,’ Pamela Stiles said tentatively, clutching her handkerchief to her mouth. ‘Could we see it again – d’you mind?’

They watched it again. And again. Rachel had looked through many images and video clips of Phoebe, but never seen her as close up as this. Conventionally pretty, heart-shaped face with regular features and the dazzling blue-white, people-pleaser smile.

‘She looks different somehow,’ Pamela observed after the disc was finally ejected. ‘There’s something… I can’t put my finger on it. I suppose it’s her hair being wet. And all that make-up they use.’

‘Well, we know she’d changed her appearance,’ Rachel reminded her, putting the disc back in her bag. ‘Her hair colour, and getting her teeth done. And then there’s the professional lighting, and the footage may have been digitally altered in post-production. It’s quite common practice.’

Pamela put both hands to her cheeks. ‘I don’t know, it’s just… there’s something… off… about her.’

‘It’s just strange, seeing her like that.’ Derek put his arm round his wife. ‘It’s the shock.’

Gonzales leaned forward in his chair. ‘I told you guys over the phone that the County Medical Examiner has agreed to release the body. So you just need to sign some papers, then you can go ahead and make arrangements for repatriation.’

Pamela’s face crumpled again at this word.

‘I’m sure Detective Prince will be happy to give you any procedural assistance you need.’ He shot a forced smile in Rachel’s direction. ‘For as long as she’s still here.’

---

Early evening found Rachel back at the Ventana Vista, swimming in water that was now warm enough to be soothing rather than bracing, trying to get her thoughts in order. She was missing being able to talk through the case with her colleagues, especially Brickall. He had a sharp, logical brain and was good at sifting the pieces of the jigsaw puzzle to create a picture. This is what we know, he would say, listing the relevant facts in order, and this is what we need to find out.

She showered and sat at the small desk in her room with her notebook. She preferred to do this with pen and paper rather than a tablet or laptop; the process tuned in the analytical hemisphere of her brain.

• Apartment block – someone must have seen something
• Phoebe’s phone – she probably communicated with her killer – where is it now?
• Commercial producers – what did they notice/discover about Phoebe?
• Check timeline with Medical Examiner
• Friends P’s made in LA?

Her phone pinged with a message from Joe.

Tried to leave everything tidy on Saturday morning. He added a goggle-eyed emoticon. Where are you and when are you back?

Rachel started typing – The States, and I have no idea – when the phone rang in her hand.

‘Frank Gonzales. You’ll probably want to get over here. We’ve made an arrest.’