Mary, Mary

several theories through the VICAP system, looking for any kind of match to the rash of murders in L.A. Anything even remotely close.
    Something finally came up that caught my attention. A triple murder more than six months earlier.
    It had happened in New York City, though, not L.A. But the murders took place in a movie theater, the Sutton on East 57th Street, and the details were intriguing at first blush.
    For one thing the murders remained unsolved. There’d been nothing even close to a solution by the NYPD. Just like the murders in Los Angeles.
    There was no apparent motive for the New York killings either. That last bit was important. Maybe this series of pattern killings began a lot earlier than anyone had thought up to now. And maybe the killer was from New York originally.
    I pulled up the NYPD detective notes on the case and read them through. A patron inside the movie theater, as well as two Sutton employees, had been killed that afternoon. The detective’s working theory was that the theater workers had walked in on the killer just after he killed a man named Jacob Reiser, from Brooklyn. Reiser had been a film student at NYU, twenty years old.
    But then something else caught my eye—the murder weapon listed in the report. Based on the bullets removed from the bodies, a Walther PPK had been used.
    The gun used in the L.A. murders had also been a Walther PPK, though apparently an older model.
    But there was something else that grabbed me:
The murders in New York had happened in the men’s room.

Chapter 52
    GREAT NEWS— I was accruing enough hotel points for a lifetime of free rooms. The problem was that I never wanted to see another hotel for as long as I lived. West Los Angeles didn’t offer much in the way of distractions, either. I lay on the bed flipping through my notes again, a half-eaten chicken sandwich and a warm soda next to me.
    When the phone rang, I gratefully picked up. It was Nana Mama.
    “I was just thinking about pork chops and spoon bread,” I told her. “And here you are.”
    “Why are you always buttering me up, Alex?” she asked. “Trying anyway. You going to tell me you’re not coming home next weekend?”
    “Not exactly.”
    “Alex —”
    “I’m coming home. And believe me, there’s nothing more I want than to leave this case far behind. But I’m also going to be back and forth some.”
    “Alex, I want you to think long and hard about how much time you really need to be out there in California. Turns out, this new job is worse than your last one.”
    Apparently, my post-custody trial grace period was over. Nana was back to her old self, laying it on with a trowel. Not that she was entirely wrong.
    “How are the kids?” I finally asked. “Can I talk to them?”
And give my ears a rest from you, old woman
.
    “They’re fine and dandy,
Daddy
. Just for the record, so am I.”
    “Did something happen?” I asked.
    “No. Just a dizzy spell. It’s nothing at all. I saw Kayla Coles today. Everything’s fine. Dr. Coles checked me out. I’m good for another ten thousand miles.”
    “If I know you, and I
do
know you, that means a big dizzy spell. Did you pass out again?”
    “No, I
did
not
pass out,” she said, as if it was the most ridiculous idea she’d ever heard in her life. “I’m just an old woman, Alex. I’ve told you that before. Though, God knows, I don’t look or act my age.”
    When I asked Nana to give me Kayla Coles’s phone number, though, she outright refused. I had to wait for Damon to get on the line and Nana to get off; then I told him to go up to my desk and get me Kayla’s number from my Rolodex.
    “How’s she seem to you?” I asked him. “You need to take care of her, Day.”
    “She seems pretty good, Dad. She wouldn’t tell us what happened. But she went out grocery shopping and made dinner tonight. I can’t tell if there’s anything wrong or not. You know Nana, how she is. She’s
vacuuming
now.”
    “She’s just showing off. Go vacuum for her. Go ahead now. Help your grandmother.”
    “I don’t know how to vacuum.”
    “Then this is a good time to learn.”
    I finished up with the kids and then called Kayla Coles, but I got her answering service. I tried Sampson next and asked if he could swing by the house and check on Nana, who had partly brought him up, too.
    “No problem,” he told me. “I’ll show up hungry tomorrow for breakfast, how’s that?”
    “Sounds like a win-win to me. Also, a very believable