‘Sorry, Cassie. I better take this.’

She stood up and walked away from the table. Her mother looked up from her garden and smiled.

‘Hi, Kate. It’s Josh.’

‘Hello, Detective Harper.’

‘Look, we haven’t the luxury of playing that silly fucking game, Kate.’

‘What’s happened?’

‘Jordan Weislander – in the district attorney’s office -‘

‘I know who he is, Josh. I was there remember.’

‘Last night Weislander was at home cooking dinner for his wife and two friends when he opened his icebox and found a human tongue sandwiched between his choice cuts of veal.’

‘So it is to do with Gleason.’

‘Yep, sure looks like it. More or less at the same time a homeless guy was admitted to California Hospital Medical on Hope Street. He woke up after taking god knows what – booze, drugs or both – to find himself without a tongue. Apparently it had been cut out when he was unconscious.’

Kate was too shocked to speak.

‘Look, I know we’re going through our own problems now –‘

‘You could say that.’

‘But, Kate. Don’t take any risks. I know you – I’ve seen the way you work in the past. This is serious, dangerous. Whoever we’re dealing with here is clearly a psychopath with no regard for anyone.’

‘Do you have any leads yet?’

‘We should have some names soon. I’ve got the whole team working on it. I’ll let you know what happens.’

‘Okay.’

‘Also, I’ve just heard that the Times is leading on the story tomorrow – you and the kid, Cassie and the fingertips, Weislander and the tongue. God only knows how it got out – but if the journalist Cynthia Ross –‘

‘Not her again.’

‘Yeah. Anyway, if she calls you, do me a favour and say no comment, will you?’

‘Yes, of course.’

‘Sorry, I’ve got to go.’

‘Bye.’

Kate returned to the table. She told Cassie what Josh had said. The news left the two women even more fearful than before.

13

‘Fuck,’ said Josh as he picked up the newspaper. The Sunday edition of Times featured the story as an exclusive on the front page, along with the headline, ‘GROTESQUE GIFTS LINKED TO GLEASON, DEAD SERIAL KILLER’. The story was bylined Cynthia Ross and was illustrated with photographs of Kate, Cassie, Weislander and a large image of Gleason himself staring out of the page.

Two nights ago, February 9, Jordan Weislander, prosecutor in the office of the state’s district attorney, opened the icebox in his Pasadena home to discover a human tongue. Investigations by the Times have revealed that he is the third person to receive a grotesque present of human body parts since the beginning of the new year.

Over the past two weeks, three people closely connected with the notorious Bobby Gleason serial killer case have received similarly chilling gifts. On January 25, Kate Cramer, the forensic artist who created an accurate likeness of Gleason – an image that led to his arrest - was taking photographs at her beach house in Malibu when she spotted a baby in the water. Despite trying to revive the 15-month old – identified as Sara-Jane Gable, daughter of a Los Feliz couple – the baby was pronounced dead at the scene.

On February 2, Cassie Veringer received a package of human fingertips at her apartment in Venice Beach. Ms Verginer would have been the last murder victim of Gleason – the notorious serial killer whose reign of killings lasted from 1992 until 1997 – had she not escaped from his vehicle and fled to safety. Before her daring escape Cassie, blind as a result of juvenile glaucoma, managed to feel the face of her attacker and it was with her help that Kate Cramer successfully created such a detailed portrait of the serial killer. Gleason’s other victims were Teresa Collins, 17, Frances Silla, 19, Elizabeth Ventura, 18, Tracey Newton, 18, and Jane Gardener, 20.

Despite repeated requests neither the LAPD nor any of the three persons directly involved – Jordan Weislander, Kate Cramer or Cassie Veringer – would comment on this story.

As this newspaper reported only a few weeks ago, it is ten years since Gleason was arrested. Police sources would not comment on whether the publication of this recent article has any bearing on the new developments.

Bobby Gleason was arrested in January 1997 and he was sentenced to death a year later. However, in July 2000, Gleason, 49 – who was on Death Row in San Quentin State Prison - was discovered dead in his cell He had committed suicide.

He threw the paper across his desk. That’s all he needed, some kind of fucking media circus. And true enough, two minutes later Karen Cain – the media spokeswoman for his division – was on the phone relating the dozens of requests from journalists asking for more information. He told her he would draft a brief statement.

‘But what about a press conference?’ she said. ‘You know that’s what these guys want. They want to see you up there, and they want to talk to Weislander, Kate Cramer and Cassie Veringer.’

‘No way,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry, but I’m not going to allow Kate Cramer and Cassie Veringer to be eaten alive by a pack of vultures.’ He took a deep breath as he assessed the situation. ‘Look, it’s against my better nature, but if needs be, I’ll take the press conference.’

‘But Cramer and Veringer are off limits? You sure? There’s nothing like a spot of female vulnerability to get people’s attention.’

God, she made him sick. At times he thought she was just as bad as some of the corpse-feasting crime reporters out there.

‘Afraid so.’

‘Okay, I’ll get back to you. And no new leads I can give these hungry babies?’

‘Not yet,’ he said, finding it difficult to retain his composure. ‘But I’ll see what I can come up with. Also, can you find out how Cynthia Ross got the story?’

‘She’s one tough lady, she might not tell me much, but I’ll try.’

‘Great. Speak later.’

As he cut the line he wondered whether sometimes he was doing his job for the sake of the entertainment industry – for the viewers of the news networks, the readers of supermarket tabloids, the internet geeks obsessed by conspiracy theories – and not the safety of the general public. He didn’t have the time to think about that at the moment. He had serious work to do.