by Marcia Clark
Eric rolled his eyes. “It’s a BS story. He supposedly got pissed off at her because she wouldn’t go out with him or something. She’s such a friggin’ tease.”
Alex gave him a “just us guys” smile. “Were you there?”
Eric shook his head with a look that said it didn’t matter. “But I know her.”
It was the same with Tommy and Foster. They’d heard about the story, but Abel had given it his spin, and they were happy to go with it.
We wound down after a few more minutes. I’d heard enough about Saint Abel. It was time to get to the other side of things. Alex had found the girl.
Janessa Wagoner lived a few miles south of Tommy. We were there in less than ten minutes.
“He was a total asshole.” Janessa, an African American cutie with sparkling brown eyes, made a sour face. “He hit on me at Trudy’s birthday party, and I was like, ‘No, thank you.’”
Janessa’s frank, no-bullshit style was refreshing. “So you didn’t like Abel?”
“No.” She paused, then shrugged. “To be fair, I didn’t really know him. I just didn’t dig his vibe, you know?”
I smiled. “I really do.”
Janessa gave me an appraising look. “Yeah, you’re pretty hot.” She gave Alex the once-over. “You guys hooked up?”
I let myself smile. “No. We just work together.”
Alex was amused. “And I’m gay.”
Janessa gave a resigned nod. “Figures. Anyway, I was totally polite and all, said, ‘Thanks but no thanks,’ but he just lost it. Called me a conceited bitch, said I wasn’t that hot and I was too fat and he was too good for a whore like me.”
Janessa was curvy but by no means fat. I shook my head, disgusted, and spoke with sarcasm. “Seems a tad over the top.”
She rolled her eyes. “Ya think?”
I gave a short laugh. I loved the fact that Janessa wasn’t in the least crushed by his obnoxious remark. Some—too many—girls would’ve flown into an anorexic tailspin. “So what’d you do?”
Janessa smirked. “I dumped my drink down his pants.”
Now I really laughed. “You soak him?”
The smirk widened. “Oh, totally. He had to leave. It was great. After that, he tried to talk me down at school, but everyone heard about the party, so he had to let it go.” Her mood shifted, and she got serious. “I got lucky. Ginnie, not so much.”
A new name. And judging by Janessa’s expression, a new and much worse situation. “Ginnie?”
“Didn’t anyone tell you about Ginnie Miller?” We both shook our heads. “Yeah, come to think of it, that figures. She hardly told anyone about it. I know some of what happened, but you should really talk to her. I’ll get you her num . . . wait. I think I’d better call her and find out if she wants to talk about it.” Janessa stood up. “Be right back.”
Alex leaned toward me. “We’re still going after Ginnie if she says no, right?”
“Of course.”
One minute later, Janessa was back. “It’s cool. She’ll talk to you.”
A pleasant surprise. “Now?”
“Yep.” Her voice was firm but upbeat. In fact, that described Janessa in general. “Here’s her address.”
She handed me a piece of paper with the phone number and address. I liked the way this girl worked. If my practice expanded like I hoped it would, I’d hire her in a heartbeat if she was willing. “Thanks, Janessa.” I asked her whether she knew Cassie, but she, too, was a senior, which meant their paths didn’t cross.
We got to the end of our questions, and I told her we appreciated her help. As we headed to the door, Janessa’s mood shifted again. This girl was fast in thought, word, and deed.
Now she looked worried. “I hope you catch the killer soon. It’s been pretty scary around here.”
I started to tell her we weren’t the cops, but the truth was, we were doing their job for them. “Don’t worry. We’ll get him.”
Alex gave her a reassuring smile. “And we don’t think it’s the work of some random serial killer. He won’t be back.”
As we headed for the car, I elbowed Alex in the ribs. “Nice cop impression, Joe Friday.”
Alex stared at me. “Seriously? Ms. We Always Get Our Man?”
I sniffed. “That’s different. I really am a Royal Canadian Mountie.”
Ginnie lived farther east, in Burbank. When her mother ushered us in, we found her at the kitchen table, surrounded by schoolbooks. “If you have a test or something, we can come back another time.”
Ginnie gave us a shy smile and shook her head. “It’s okay. I’m just doing some review stuff, getting ready for my GED.”
Her mother gestured for us to have a seat. “Can I get you anything to drink?”
I was thirsty, but I didn’t want to have to take any bathroom breaks. “No, but thank you.”
“Okay, let me know if you need anything.” She started toward the door, then paused. “Say, aren’t you the lawyer whose father—”
Not again. I forced a smile. “Yes.”
She looked pleased with herself. “I thought I recognized you.” She started to leave, then stopped and turned back. “You were terrific, by the way.”
I felt like a schmuck. “Thank you.”
She left, and Ginnie pushed aside her books. Homeschooling took a lot of discipline. I wondered whether I could’ve pulled it off. Probably not. Wait. No. Definitely not. The lock on the liquor cabinet was too easy to pick. “I guess Janessa already told you that we wanted to ask you about Abel?”
Ginnie nodded without looking at us. She seemed nervous, and her short blonde pixie cut and long, slender neck gave her a delicate, vulnerable look. It made me worry about what I was about to hear.
She took a deep breath, her brow furrowed with pain. “I went out with Abel a couple of times. The first time, we went to a movie and that was okay. But the second time, we went to a basketball game at school. Afterward, on the way home, he tried to get me to . . . make out and stuff. I did for a minute, but then he got too . . . intense, and I didn’t want to anymore. I told him I was sorry, that I wasn’t into it. He just lost it. Called me a cock tease and a bitch and a whore.” She paused and took a deep breath. “It was scary. He was so . . . out of control he was, like, spitting.”
There was something really wrong with this guy. “Did he hurt you?”
“You mean, like, hit me or something? No. But the way he screamed at me and pounded on the steering wheel . . . it was scary. I didn’t know what he was going to do. I was about to jump out of the car, but then he took me home. I was so relieved. I thought, ‘Thank God that’s over.’ But it wasn’t.”
“What happened?”
“He posted all kinds of lies and crap about me on Facebook. Said I hooked up with a bunch of the guys on the football team, that I gave them—” Ginnie choked up, and she stopped. After a few moments, she continued. “He even Photoshopped my face on some other girl’s body and claimed I was sending out nude pictures.”
What a complete piece of shit this kid was. “What’d you do? Did you report him?”
“Yes, but he denied it all.” She sighed, her expression showing utter despair. “And he’d used a dummy Facebook page, so they couldn’t trace it to him.” Ginnie swallowed hard. “My friends knew it was a bunch of lies. But all the guys would laugh when they saw me in the hallway.” She stopped and took a deep breath. “It just got to be too much. So I asked the principal for permission to do home study.”
It would’ve been bad no matter who he’d done it to, but it was even worse that it’d happened to someone so delicate. “I’m sorry, Ginnie.”
She dipped her head and sighed. “Thanks. But to be honest, I was having problems before all that. I have a panic disorder, depression. Abel made it worse, but . . .” She gave me a wan smile. “My mom’s been wanting me to do homeschooling for a while. And I’m doing much better now, so it was probably all for the best.”
I was starting to think that Abel’s shuff
ling off this mortal coil was probably for the best, too.
ELEVEN
Michelle shook her head, her expression disgusted. “Wow, Abel’s a real dick.” She threw her empty coffee cup into the trash. “It blows my mind how fast social media turned into a pipeline for chickenshit assholes.”
Alex, who’d perched on the edge of her desk, folded his arms. “For sure, but I don’t see either of those girls going after him in any way, let alone taking out the parents.”
No doubt about that. “But I think we should take a look at their families. A father or a brother with a screw loose might’ve gotten fired up enough to do it.” Michelle gave me a skeptical look. “I said might. Look, all I’m saying is, it couldn’t hurt to check them out, see if they have alibis.”
“Should be easy enough,” Alex said. “And even though it’s a long shot, it is important to keep an open mind in an investigation and not get married to any one theory until all the evidence is in.”
I glared at him. “You’re quoting that damn book, aren’t you?”
Alex gave me a stubborn look. “It’s right, isn’t it?”
“Big whoop. That line’s been in every homicide detective manual since friggin’ Wyatt Earp.”
Alex sighed and headed to his office. Michelle gave me a tolerant smile. “By the way, Deshawn called.”
For a flash of a second, I let myself hope that he’d found a way to appease the drug dealer. Then reality set in. “Did he leave a message?”
“Just said to tell you it’s getting tough, and that you’d know what he meant.” Michelle looked worried. “Someone giving him a hard time?” She liked him. We all did. When he wasn’t jacking people, he was a charming guy.
“You could say that. Did he leave a number?”
Michelle shook her head. “Said he’d call back.”
It felt like a lead weight had dropped into the pit of my stomach. “Thanks, Michy.”
I walked into my office, closed the door, then grabbed a pillow off the couch and held it over my face to muffle my scream. When I’d finished, I lay down and tried to figure a way out of this mess. I had to bail him out, and fast. But I didn’t have a clue how to get that kind of money, and I sure as hell couldn’t get my hands on that much heroin. And—not to be selfish about this—but if his cousin cracked and gave up Deshawn’s name, how long would it take for Deshawn to buckle and point the finger at me?
I went to my computer and opened my file of current cases. I knew I didn’t have any dealers working at that high a level, but maybe one of my clients had connections. I pored over each case, searching for possibilities. An hour later, I’d come up with nothing. I sat back and drummed my fingers on the desk. I could look into my closed cases, but finding those clients would be almost impossible. And what few I could find would be unlikely to help me. Either because they’re in prison and having buyer’s remorse over the deal I made for them (and probably hoping someone’s roasting my body over an open pit) or because they’re on the street once again, up to no good and in no mood or position to do any favors. So I was glad for the distraction when Alex knocked.
He had that gleam in his eyes that said he’d hit a rich vein. He sat in front of my desk, notepad in hand. “I got some follow-up on Stephen, the dad.”
“This about him getting someone fired?” I wasn’t crazy about this lead.
“It’s better than you think.” Alex looked down at his notepad. “William Everleigh worked under Stephen. He fired Everleigh for supposedly dummying up his time sheets. But Everleigh claims it wasn’t true, that Stephen set him up to get him fired.”
I sat up, alarmed. “You talked to Everleigh?”
“No, to the other employees.”
This worried me. We couldn’t let anyone know we were talking to Stephen’s coworkers—including the coworkers. It was one thing to knock on a few doors and ask neighbors whether they’d seen or heard anything. The cops had hit them up so many times, they wouldn’t think to complain about it. And I hadn’t been worried about talking to the kids. I was legitimately on board to help Cassie, so I could just say I was getting to know more about her. Plus, the kids wouldn’t bitch about it. But adult coworkers might. And the cops would jump our shit big-time if they found out we were digging around in Stephen’s life. Alex was smart enough to “social engineer” his way into the phone calls with Stephen’s coworkers. I didn’t know who he’d pretended to be, and I didn’t want to know. I just wanted to make sure we wouldn’t get caught. “You covered your tracks, right?”
Now Alex looked annoyed. “Of course, duh. Do you or don’t you want to know why Stephen set the guy up to get fired?”
“Okay, hit me.”
“Because Stephen was having an affair. At least that’s the rumor. And he wanted to push his girlfriend—his twenty-one-year-old, extremely new and unqualified girlfriend—into Everleigh’s position.”
I leaned back in my chair and thought about that. “So says the disgruntled employee who got fired. Does anyone back him up?”
“Yes.” He looked down at his notepad again. “Suzanne Chalmers says Stephen was always a little too interested in young women, and he did spend a lot of time with this one—Lilliana Wiley—in particular.” Alex looked up. “It was a huge promotion for her. I got three others who backed that up.”
“Anybody have proof he was having an affair with this Lilliana? Catch them in the act of . . . anything?”
Alex flipped his iPad closed. “No. Everyone who worked in that department thought they were hooking up, but no one could say for sure.”
That figured. Unless someone caught them banging in the mail room, it’d be hard to say one way or the other. Still, it was interesting. “Did you talk to her?”
Alex spoke irritably. “No. I couldn’t figure a safe way in.”
I gave him a little smirk. “You mean that wasn’t covered in your book? Shocking.” Alex threw me a mock glare. “Don’t beat yourself up. She’d never admit it anyway. Does she have a boyfriend or husband? Or, please God, a jealous ex-husband with a really bad temper?”
Alex pointed at me. “You nailed it. The coworkers didn’t know, but I found out that she’d left her fiancé, who coincidentally was more than twice her age, about a week after she got the promotion.”
“Nice. You check out his alibi?”
Alex nodded. “Working on it.”
I wasn’t optimistic about this lead, but it couldn’t hurt to check it out. Sometimes lousy leads send you to the right ones. “Not that I expect this, but have you had a chance to check out friends and family for those two girls, Janessa and . . .”
“Ginnie. Not yet. But I should have that and their alibis by tomorrow afternoon.”
“Nice job, Alex.” I looked at my watch. It was almost eight o’clock. “Take the rest of the night off.”
Alex raised an eyebrow. “Gee, thanks, boss.”
I shut down my computer and pulled on my blazer. “Think nothing of it.”
“Believe me, I do.”
We walked out to the reception area where Michelle was still typing away. She looked up at me. “You’re going to be late. You gas up Beulah?”
“I’m gonna Uber.” I didn’t want to spend the night drinking club sodas.
Alex looked incredulous. “You have a date?”
I sniffed and tossed my head. “Like that’s so unbelievable?”
Michelle gave me a look and shook her head. “She’s meeting Tiegan for drinks.”
The killjoy. “Thanks for the backup.”
Michelle gave me a saccharine smile. “Any time. Let us know what you get.”
I shot her a death ray and headed out. I intended to ask Tiegan what she thought about my meeting with Cassie’s friends and get her take on how Cassie was doing. I also wanted her opinion of what we’d learned about Abel. She’d said she didn’t know much about him, but maybe our information would trigger a memory.
We’d picked Firefly, a hip lounge and restaurant in Studio City, which wa
s sort of a midway spot between the San Fernando Valley, where Tiegan lived, and my apartment. I wouldn’t have chosen it on a Saturday, when it was a “scene.” But on a weeknight, it’d be pretty calm. I liked the way the bar area was set up like a cozy library, the walls lined with bookshelves and the comfy seating—all overstuffed couches, wingback chairs, and ottomans.
When I got there, I was glad to see I’d been right. The lounge area wasn’t packed, there were a couple of quiet corners available, and the music—a pop/rock mix—wasn’t blasting. I wanted to order their fried olives, but this wasn’t a night to get distracted by food. I was here on a mission.
Tiegan was at the bar, nursing a glass of red wine, when I arrived. I could see that the bartender was enjoying her company. That was no surprise. Tiegan was girly-girl pretty: petite, with honey-blonde hair that was parted on the side and framed big, blue eyes and full lips. And I’d bet she got carded at every bar. She could easily pass for a high school senior. “Is that pinot noir? If so, is it any good?”
Tiegan smiled. “Yes and yes.”
I told the bartender I’d have the same, and we took our drinks to a pair of armchairs in the corner. There were a few couples on the couches, but no one so close that I had to worry about what we said. “How’s Cassie doing?”
Tiegan sighed and stared down at her wineglass. “A little better. Barb says she’s not sleeping fifteen hours a day anymore, but she watches television constantly. I don’t blame her for needing the escape, but it’s going to be a while before she can think about rejoining the world.”
“Have we heard any updates on Paula?”
“She’s still in a coma. I hear they plan to keep it that way for at least another week or two to reduce the brain swelling.”
“Has Cassie been to see her?”
“Yes, Barb took her yesterday.” Tiegan took a sip of her wine, then balanced the glass on her knee.
Tiegan seemed a little bit jittery, nerves maybe. We’d never met in a social situation before. “I went to see Cassie yesterday evening.”