Page 6 of The Perfect Illusion (Jessie Hunt #39)

It was well past lunchtime, but Jessie wasn't hungry.

She and Brady were holed up in a conference room at LAPD’s West Los Angeles station, where they’d been reviewing every data point they could find on Patricia Hollinger.

That hadn’t stopped Brady from ordering a foot-long sub which he’d inhaled more than eaten, leaving nothing but drops of mayo and mustard on both the table and his slacks as evidence that the sandwich had ever existed.

Jessie was too focused on making progress in the case to eat.

And they were nowhere near as far along as she would have hoped.

They had managed to talk to Rosa Montero back at the house, but only briefly. They delayed letting Robert Hollinger reveal the truth about what happened to Patricia until they posed a few questions. According to the housekeeper, Patricia seemed fine when she left her in the main bedroom.

“She was a little anxious about picking the right dress for the evening,” Rosa had explained, “but nothing more than that. I wished her a good night, went to the bathroom downstairs, collected my things, and was gone by just after six.”

That matched the timeline on the security footage. When they brought up pageant accessories Patricia might have worn, Rosa looked completely befuddled by the question and demanded to know what was going on.

At that point, Hollinger couldn't hold back any longer and told her the truth. After a brief moment of denial, she broke down, crying uncontrollably. When her level of upset escalated to a near panic-attack, the EMTs on scene had to sedate her and take her to the hospital. Hollinger went with her.

They had made some progress since they came to the station. The CSU team had determined that the murder weapon—very likely a jagged piece of glass from the smashed painting frame—was not at the crime scene.

“Maybe the killer took it with them,” Brady surmised, “either to avoid leaving evidence, or possibly due to a cut. Even wearing gloves, it’s possible that they might have suffered some kind of injury.”

It wasn't a crazy theory, and the CSU folks were already checking to see if all of the blood found in the bedroom belonged to Patricia. They had already concluded that no fingerprints besides those of Patricia, Robert, and Rosa were in the bedroom.

"You guys have any luck lately?" Jessie asked Jamil and Beth over the speakerphone line they'd shared all day. She felt bad as this was the third time she'd asked essentially the same question in the last two hours. If they had something new, they surely would have told her.

The HSS research team was not known for resting on its laurels.

Jamil was a legitimate genius, skilled at filtering through massive databases, sorting surveillance video into manageable buckets, or making complex financial records understandable, all seemingly without even trying.

What required actual effort for him was the social side of the equation.

His proficiency on that front didn’t always match his intellectual abilities.

Luckily, his deputy more than compensated for him in that area.

Beth was as adept with people as Jamil was with numbers.

Her perpetually chill, friendly vibe was the complete inverse of Jamil’s jittery intensity.

And while not a human supercomputer like him, she had an incredibly sharp mind, which people tended to underestimate because she was an attractive, six-foot-plus former college volleyball star.

“Nothing yet,” Jamil said patiently. “We usually look for any unusual financial patterns with either spouse, something that might suggest malfeasance, or even blackmail. There’s nothing like that here, at least not so far.”

“What kind of patterns are you finding?” Brady asked.

“On the personal front, lots of standard stuff,” Beth said.

“They lived a lavish lifestyle. Lots of travel.

He owns a sailboat. They co-own a private jet with another couple.

She shopped a lot. But honestly, it's nothing we haven't seen before.

There are also a ton of charitable donations.

The homeless shelter addition cost $9 million, and they footed the bill for half of that. "

"And on the corporate side, everything looks above board so far," Jamil added. "Obviously, I need to do a lot more digging. He has a lot of business costs but nothing jumps out at me yet."

“What sort of costs are we talking about?” Jessie asked.

“He has all kinds of consultants,” Jamil explained. “Everything from financial advisors to communications gurus to marketing experts. None of it seems out of the ordinary, at least not on the surface. Of course, I plan to dive much deeper.”

“What about this person who reached out about judging a pageant?” Brady asked. “Considering how Patricia was found, that seems worth pursuing.”

"We have been," Beth assured him. "Since her husband gave us full access to her phone, I've been going through her calls and texts for the last month, just to be safe. So far, I haven't found anything that seems even vaguely connected to pageants. Jamil is doing the same with her e-mail."

"That's been a little trickier," the head of research conceded. "Mr. Hollinger didn't know any of her passwords, so it took a while to crack them. But my searches so far haven't revealed—hold on."

“What is it?” Brady asked excitedly.

“I just noticed that Patricia occasionally CCs e-mails to herself at another e-mail account,” he said. “I’m trying to access it now.”

Everyone else waited silently as they listened to Jamil’s fingertips fly across his keyboard. After thirty seconds, they all heard him speak more enthusiastically than Jessie thought possible.

“Yes!” he whispered breathlessly.

“Care to share with the group?” Jessie wondered.

"Patricia Hollinger has a really old AOL account," he explained.

"It uses the same password as her other ones, but it looks like she mostly stopped using it about a half dozen years ago.

But she set up the account to forward e-mails sent there to her current ones.

There have only been two in the last six months that weren't spam.

They're both from someone named Marcus Sullivan. "

“What do they say?” Jessie asked.

"I'll screenshot them for you," Jamil said, "But they're related. Apparently, he runs several pageants in Orange County. In the first e-mail, dated ten days ago, he says: Long time, no talk. It’s been far too long. Would love to catch up by having you be a guest judge at Miss Costa Mesa Pageant. He goes on to provide details. Her response came the same day. It’s just one word: No. ”

“That’s pretty definitive,” Beth muttered.

“And the second e-mail?” Brady wanted to know. “What does it say?”

“It’s from three days later,” Jamil told them. “It says: Just checking back in to see if you’d reconsider judging. I’d love to discuss the possibility more but this is my only contact information for you. Please get back to me. He then reiterates the offer details.”

“And you have no indication that she ever replied to that one?” Jessie confirmed.

“Correct,” Jamil said.

“One might wonder if Marcus got a little more aggressive in his attempts to get in touch,” Brady mused.

"It's definitely worth looking into, "Beth said animatedly.

"I just started checking into Marcus Sullivan's background, and it's not all peaches and cream.

He's had multiple allegations of sexual harassment made against him by various pageant contestants over the years.

I'm finding at least two out-of-court settlements in the last decade.

He was even charged with assault once a dozen years ago, although the charge was dropped when the alleged victim refused to testify.

The prosecutor's notes indicate that he thought the woman was threatened, though they couldn't prove that. "

“Does Patricia Hollinger’s name come up in any of those harassment allegations?” Brady asked.

“Back then, her last name was Corning, so I’ve been searching that,” Beth said. “But I’m coming up empty.”

“Just because nothing official shows up doesn’t mean harassment wasn’t happening,” Jessie noted. “And based on her terse reply to his offer, I’m guessing that Patricia was none too pleased to get any kind of communication from Sullivan. I think it’s time we pay him a visit to find out why.”