Final Judgment

by Marcia Clark

  I can really pull off a poker face in court. But I pay for that skill by having zero ability to hide my feelings when it comes to my personal life. I walked into the living room and sat down on the couch. Niko had already lit the fire. I stared at the flames for a moment as he joined me. I clasped my hands together in my lap so he wouldn’t reach for them and looked him in the eye. “You almost killed a man during a bar fight in Chicago. According to the police, you used the very same move on him that was used to kill Bryan. I wonder why I had to hear about that from the cops instead of you.”

  Niko looked stricken. He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it. It took a few moments before he could gather himself. “First of all, the cops are wrong. I chopped him in the neck, yes. When he came at me with a knife. The guy was crazy. But that was not an internal decapitation—which, by the way, is done from behind. I don’t know where the police got that, but they’re wrong. If I’d used that move, the guy would be dead.”

  I took that in. If true, it changed the picture I’d had—quite a bit. In that case, Niko hadn’t lied—to the cops or me. And it’d be easy to verify whether the blow had been to the front of the guy’s neck or the back. There’d be photos and descriptions of the injury in police reports. If Niko was telling the truth, it was one hell of a sloppy mistake to claim that the incident in Chicago bore any resemblance to Bryan’s murder. But it sounded exactly like the kind of dumb thing O’Malley might do. Not Kingsford. He was pretty meticulous from what I’d seen. But right now, I had another question. “And you didn’t tell me about this because . . . ?”

  Niko dropped his gaze and swallowed. “It’s not exactly my proudest moment. As a martial artist, I’m supposed to avoid confrontation. I shouldn’t have gotten into it with that idiot. But he was hitting on this woman and wouldn’t stop. She was getting scared. I told him to move on and leave her alone. He told me to fuck off and get out of his face. I stepped between him and the woman, and he took a swing at me.” He stopped and sighed. “And you can guess the rest, but you don’t have to. I’m sure you or Dale can get the police reports. It’s all there.” He hung his head.

  If he was suggesting I get the reports, then he knew they’d back him up. So not only did he not lie about that fight, but the only reason he’d gotten into it in the first place was to protect a woman from a knuckle dragger.

  Damn that Michy—and Alex—for being so right about him. And I had to admit that my reaction to the possibility of Niko’s lying to me was beyond ironic. Although I’d never affirmatively lied to him, I certainly hadn’t told him about any of my . . . extracurricular activities. I didn’t even want to imagine how he’d react if he ever found out about the body count I’d racked up.

  I needed to let him know that it was safe to tell me the truth, no matter how bad he thought it was. I looked into his eyes. “You get to choose what to share with me. I’m not one of those people who thinks couples need to live in each other’s pockets. But whatever you do decide to tell me, just know that I’ll never judge you.” I paused and smiled. “Certainly not for pounding some asshole who deserved what he got—and a whole lot more.”

  The tension left Niko’s face, and he smiled back at me. “You know, you’re pretty amazing.”

  I felt anything but amazing. In fact, I felt guilty as hell for thinking the worst of him. “You’re not so bad yourself.” I took his hand. “And I’ll get into it with Kingsford and O’Malley tomorrow.”

  Niko leaned in and kissed me softly. I returned the kiss with a little more urgency. I whispered in his ear, “About dinner. Maybe we can order in later?”

  He smiled and stood up as he pulled me to my feet. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

  He held me by the hand as he led me into the bedroom. My kind of fairy-tale ending.

  I’d been afraid to even let myself hope things would turn out this way.

  TWENTY-ONE

  I called Dale on the way to the office the next morning and told him what Niko had said about the bar fight in Chicago. “It was a chop to the front of the neck, not an internal decapitation. Can you pull the reports?” Dale said he’d do what he could.

  Which turned out to be quite a lot—and fast. When I got in, Michy said, “You got an email from Dale with a few attachments.” She gave me a smug look. “Judging by that—and the way you’re floating on air—I’d guess you owe me some money.”

  I’d stopped at the bank on the way in, knowing I was going to suffer through a day of I told you sos. I dropped the hundred-dollar bill on her desk. “How long am I going to have to hear about this?”

  Michy picked up the bill and gave it a snap. “Good question. Probably until it gets old—”

  I interrupted, “It’s officially old.”

  She smirked. “For me, that is. Until it gets old for me.”

  Alex came out of his office wearing a very similar smirk. “And me. So don’t expect this to end anytime soon.”

  I shook my head. “You guys must lead really boring lives. I’d feel sorry for you, but I actually have to get some work done.” I turned on my heel, went into my office, and closed the door behind me.

  I sat down at my desk and opened the email from Dale. Sure enough, he’d already scored the reports from Chicago PD. Knowing Dale, he had a buddy in the department he’d been able to tap for a favor. Dale had buddies and connects everywhere. It’s a good skill to have in general, but it’s especially helpful for detectives. Having friends in the right places can save a lot of time.

  I scanned the reports. And just as Niko had said, they clearly showed that the blow to the victim’s neck bore no resemblance to the way Bryan had been killed. I called Dale. “Did you have a chance to read the reports?”

  He gave a snort. “Yeah. It’s not even close.”

  I was royally pissed off. That stupid mistake had sent me down a really bad spiral—and could’ve cost me a relationship. “What the hell made them think they could stretch that bar fight into anything remotely relevant to Bryan’s murder?”

  Dale sighed. “I can only guess. But I’d bet O’Malley talked to someone at Chicago PD who didn’t bother to read the report and just jumped to the wrong conclusion.”

  I huffed. “And O’Malley ran with it.”

  He didn’t sound happy about it. “Look, that’s just my guess. But remember, you weren’t even supposed to know about the whole Chicago thing. I’m sure Kingsford would’ve checked the report before saying anything to you.”

  “Right.” And then I never would’ve known that Niko had almost killed a guy. All in all, I guess it’d worked out for the best. I’d always wanted to know all I could about him. That cooled my jets a little.

  Dale interrupted my musing. “So what’s your plan? You looking into the other investors?”

  The good thing about this case was the long list of people with ample motive to want both Bryan and Tanner dead. “I was thinking your buddies Kingsford and O’Malley should be working on that. Any idea if they are?”

  A phone started to ring in the background. “They’d better be. Look, that’s my phone. I gotta bounce.” He ended the call.

  If the cops weren’t checking out other investors’ backgrounds and alibis, I’d be able to wrap that epic fail around their necks if we ever got to trial—and it’d crush them. Especially if Alex came up with a few investors who had no alibi. I was about to go talk to him about getting busy on that front when he knocked on my door. “Come in. Unless you’re just looking for a chance to gloat some more.”

  Alex walked in. “I don’t see why I can’t multitask.”

  I made a shooing motion with my hand. “Out. I mean it.”

  He sat down in front of my desk. “Okay, fine. Spoilsport.” He opened his iPad. “I’ve got news on Tanner.”

  I sat up. “You found him?”

  Alex gave a curt shake of the head. “I wish. No. This is background info. But it’s juicy. Apparently, Tanner got fired from a trading company in Philadelphia. They caught him doing some s
hady stuff.”

  So this cryptocurrency rip-off wasn’t his first scumbag rodeo. “Shady stuff . . . as in?”

  Alex glanced down at his iPad. “Seems he”—Alex made air quotes—“‘accidentally’ slipped investors’ money into his own account. The boss threw him out and threatened to sue if he tried to work for any other trading company in the state. That’s how he wound up here in California.”

  “Lucky us.” I thought about how I could use this. “Did he lose any of that money?”

  “No. The boss caught him before any real damage was done.”

  Damn. It was an interesting bit of information, but it wouldn’t buy us any new suspects. “Have you started checking out our investors?”

  Alex held up a hand. “Hang on. First things first. You wanted me to dig into Tanner and Bryan. I’ve got more.”

  “Excellent. Fire away.”

  He scrolled on his iPad. “Bryan got sued by his investors back when he was living in San Francisco.”

  This sounded promising. “What happened with the lawsuit?”

  Alex frowned. “Nothing. It went away. From what I can tell, he managed to pay most of them back. Where he got the money . . . I have no idea.”

  “Someone must’ve been bankrolling him,” I said.

  Alex nodded. “A hundred percent. I’m trying to figure that out.”

  In addition to all the other items on his to-do list. “If Bryan did have a sugar daddy who expected to get repaid, and Bryan stiffed him, we might have something.”

  “Agree.” He closed his iPad and stood up. “I’ll keep digging into Tanner and Bryan, but it’s time to move on to the investors.”

  “Yeah. I think I can get Dale to help out with some names and addresses.” But that meant I’d have to spend a lot of time out of the office, because we’d have to meet with every single investor who didn’t have an airtight alibi. It’d really put me behind with the rest of my caseload. But there was no choice. As Alex reached the door, I realized I’d forgotten to ask about his progress on another case. “What happened with Angelo?” Alex had gone to the jail to try and get Angelo to talk to him. “Did he come out?”

  Alex rolled his eyes. “Oh, he came out, all right. But only because he thought someone else had sent me.”

  Then my theory had been right. I’d figured Angelo was being threatened about talking to the cops, because he got around and knew a lot about who did what to whom and why. “He thought you were sent by some gangbanger who’s looking out for his homie in jail?”

  “Not exactly. He thought I’d been sent by his brother, Tito.”

  I was perplexed. “Tito isn’t in a gang.”

  “No, he’s not,” Alex said. “But he is a drug dealer.”

  I put it together. “Who’s pretty big-time.”

  Alex nodded. “According to my sources. Which are pretty reliable.”

  Because he’d hacked into the LAPD database. Again. I had to get him to stop doing that. He was bound to get caught at some point. “So Angelo was planning to give him up to the cops.”

  Alex shrugged. “He didn’t exactly say that. But when I told him I worked for you and that you needed to know what he could give the cops so you could make a deal for him, he gave me penny-ante stuff. A couple of car thefts, a burglary, some illegal weapons possession.”

  In other words, bubkes. The detectives would not be impressed. “Then his brother is the only real gold he had.”

  “Seems that way.” Alex gave me a grim look. “So now what?”

  I didn’t see a whole lot of options. “Either he gives up Tito and we get the cops to give him protection, or he embraces his new home away from home—for a very long time.”

  Alex sighed. “Do you really think the cops can keep him safe?”

  Neither of us was a big fan of the boys in blue. “It depends on how big Tito really is. Dale could probably find out for me.”

  His lips twitched in a little smile. “You know all this help from Dale is going to cost you.”

  I waved him off. “He’ll want stuff from me regardless. May as well get what I need when I need it.”

  But I told Alex to close the door on his way out. If I wanted to give Dale a to-do list, I’d have to put him in the right mood. I texted him an invitation to dinner at Granville, a great restaurant in West Hollywood. It had a menu that went on for days, with lots of California cuisine as well as great burgers. And it wasn’t as pricey as most places in the ’hood. It was one of our favorites.

  He texted back, Sounds good. But whatever you think you’re going to ask me to do, forget it.

  Yeah, we’d see about that. I cleared out my in-box in anticipation of the hours Alex and I would be spending on the street and even got my time sheets done for Michy. By six o’clock, I was hungry and ready for a break.

  I took my purse and iPad and went to Michy’s desk. She was devouring a bag of one of those faux-healthy fried veggie snacks. “You know they’re really just green potato chips.”

  Michy gave me an evil stare. “Better than what you eat, Miss Glazed Doughnut Queen.”

  I nodded. “That’s fair.”

  She asked, “You heading out?”

  “Yeah. And you can do the same.” I told her I was taking Dale out to dinner.

  She gave me a knowing look. “Good move. We could use his help.”

  “Exactly.” I headed for the door. “He’s useful. It’s why I keep him around.”

  Michy snorted. “Bullshit. You two have a good time together. Admit it.”

  “Never.” Though it was true. We did. When I didn’t want to kill him.

  I decided not to hassle with traffic and called for an Uber. For a change, I got there fifteen minutes early. Dale showed up soon after. Our table wasn’t ready, so we took a seat at the bar. Granville makes some delicious specialty drinks, but I’m a vodka martini drinker all the way. Dale usually drank scotch, but he opted for beer—Stella Artois—tonight.

  I raised my glass, and we clinked. “To your girlfriend, who has apparently widened your drinking horizons.”

  He gave me a grudging smile. “You’re right. But it’s really good.” After we drank, he held out his glass. “Here, try it.”

  I made a face. “No, gracias. Beer makes me full after one sip, and I want to leave plenty of room for important stuff.” I pointed to my martini.

  Dale nodded. “Point taken.”

  We were off to a great start. And then I noticed Kingsford at the other end of the bar. He nodded at me, and I nodded back. Dale asked who I’d seen. I kept my voice low. “Guess who else is a fan of Granville?”

  “Elton John.”

  Elton John is Dale’s answer to everything. I told him that, shockingly, it wasn’t Elton John. It was Kingsford. “What are the friggin’ odds?”

  Dale had a puzzled look. “What’s he doing in West Hollywood at this hour?”

  We didn’t have long to wonder. Kingsford threw down a few bills and came over to where we were sitting. “Kind of weird meeting you guys here.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “A lot weirder to see you here. Your office is downtown. Mine is ten minutes away.”

  Kingsford took that in. “Got a couple of witnesses who live in the area.”

  I put down my martini. “You mean angry investors? If so, I’d call them suspects, not witnesses. Your suspect list has got to be about a mile long.”

  Kingsford glanced at Dale for a moment, then looked back at me. “We do have a lot of angry investors. But very few of them know how to kill someone in this particular way. Even fewer actually knew where Bryan lived—could’ve gotten access to his house.”

  I glared at him. “But I assume you’re checking alibis.”

  He shrugged. “Of the few who fit the above criteria.”

  I didn’t like where this was going. “And I’m sure you’ve considered the possibility that Tanner killed Bryan and then faked his own death so he could disappear with all the money. Right?”

  He spoke with that condescen
ding “I know more than you” tone all cops seem to have. “Of course we have. But I’ll be honest with you. The best-looking theory so far is that someone killed them both. And the best-looking ‘someone’ is your client. You might want to tell Niko that as of now, we consider him a person of interest.” He patted the bar between Dale and me. “Have a nice evening.”

  I turned back to the bar. “Asshole.”

  Dale’s expression hardened as he stared after Kingsford for several long seconds, then met my gaze. His tone was both resigned and determined. “Okay, I’m in. Tell me what you need.”

  Kingsford had bombed my night. But I couldn’t have asked for a better way to get Dale to lend me a hand.

  Silver linings and all that, I guess.

  TWENTY-TWO

  Dale said he could give me the skinny on Tito by the next morning. And the list of investors with contact information wouldn’t take much longer.

  This is when having a dad who’s a detective is awesome. It’s a little less awesome when my clients find out about that. But there was one thing I’d decided to look into that I couldn’t ask Dale to help me with.

  I spoke to Alex about it privately the following morning. “I want to do a workup on Niko.”

  Alex’s eyes widened. “I thought you guys were cool now.”

  “We are. I just . . .” It was hard to explain—even to myself. “I think I just need to know the truth about him.”

  He tilted his head and peered at me. “In what respect?”

  I thought a moment. “I’d like to know more about his background, his growing-up years.”

  Alex frowned. “Hasn’t he already told you about a lot of that? By our third date, Paul dredged up every memory he had since the age of three.”

  “He has. But he hasn’t told me everything.” I gave Alex a pointed look. “Obviously.”

  He nodded. “True.” After a brief pause, he asked, “What are you not telling me?”

  I realized in that moment what I really wanted. “I need to know whether he did it, Alex. Whether he killed them.” I didn’t like Kingsford’s pronouncement that Niko was a “person of interest,” but legally speaking, it didn’t mean much. At this point, all they had were some loose circumstantial connections—and, of course, motive. They might never get any further with their theory. But we had access to more information about Niko than the cops would ever have. I knew we could figure out what, if anything, he’d done.