The Target by L.J. Sellers Read Free Book Online Page B

someone who’s a fan.”
    Hawthorne spoke up. “Let him. In fact, I want to keep the case. I can run it from a wheelchair with Cortez and Harris doing the legwork. I can’t afford to take any time off.”
    “I don’t know.” Riggs rubbed his dark, shaved head.
    Cortez had to fight for this one. “Avery and his wife are private people, and their contact information isn’t public. But the widow’s name is Veronica Scappini. She’s a part-time model, and I contacted the agency and acquired her phone number and address.” He hoped he’d demonstrated his resourcefulness.
    Riggs didn’t look impressed. “A gimp and a newbie? We’ll see how you do.”
    “Thank you, sir.”
    “Keep me updated, because I’ll be taking the calls from the press and the fans. The sergeant turned to leave. “Better get to work.”
    Cortez pulled up a chair and took out his notepad. “What’s next after I talk to the wife? Phone and bank records?”
    “Yes, but I’ll make those calls. You need to do the legwork and find out where the victim was yesterday and who saw him.” Hawthorne sat up, grimacing. “What did the medical examiner say after I left in the ambulance?”
    “Avery died between eight and ten last night.” Cortez tried to remember the blood-pattern terminology, but couldn’t come up with it. “Blood had pooled on his side, so the ME thinks he died right there on the floor. The autopsy is tomorrow.” Cortez hadn’t decided whether he would attend. The report would be the same either way.
    “Ask them to send us everything, including photos, as soon as it’s done. I’ll have uniforms question people in the crime scene area, but I’m not optimistic about a witness.”
    “I’ll track the victim’s timetable.”
    “Harris will read through the paperwork as soon as we have the phone and credit card statements.”
    Cortez thought it was unfair to give all the boring stuff to Harris, but he wanted to question witnesses, so he didn’t say anything. Harris would have to fight her own battles. He stood, eager to get going. “I’ll go talk to Veronica Scappini now.”
    “Remember, she’s a suspect, no matter how pretty she is.” Hawthorne reached for his call button. “Go easy and learn what you can, but be skeptical of everything she says.”
    “Copy that.” Cortez couldn’t wait to tell his mother about his assignment. What if his name and picture ended up in the newspaper after he arrested the murderer? Maybe Risa Rispoli, the reporter he liked, would finally go out with him.
    In his car, he called the medical examiner’s office and asked to speak to one of the pathologists. After a long wait, a woman’s voice came on the line. “This is Dr. Dean.”
    Cortez introduced himself. “I’m investigating James Avery’s death. He was brought in today. I know the staff is busy, but considering Mr. Avery’s status, I hope you’ll prioritize his blood work. The media will be calling every day until we give them some information.”
    A pause. “Who exactly is James Avery?”
    How could she not know?
“He’s a movie star. You know the Jack Kramer series?”
    “I don’t watch many movies. But I’ll do what I can to move his toxicology along.”
    “Thank you. Please send the report and the photos to me and Detective Hawthorne as soon as you have them.” He gave her their email addresses. “Please treat Mr. Avery’s corpse as respectfully as possible.”
    “We always do.”
    James Avery’s house in La Jolla surprised him. The single-level home sprawled across a hill near the ocean with a three-car garage on a lower level in front. But its modesty seemed unusual for a movie star. Then Cortez remembered that James Avery had a home in Hollywood as well. And Avery wasn’t exactly an A-list movie star anymore. He should have been, but the cruel industry tossed people aside if they started to go gray or put on weight. Avery had chosen not to dye his hair or starve himself the way some actors did. Cortez