by Marcia Clark
Danny’s expression was wary, but as he read our cards, it changed to alarm. “Is he in some kind of trouble?”
There was a jittery, angry energy to Danny. His eyes bounced between Alex and me, and he swayed as though he were poised to run at any second. A product of his time in Iraq? Or his natural state? I had no way of knowing.
I nodded. “Is there someplace nearby where we can talk?” I already knew the Santa Fe Café was just around the corner.
He narrowed his eyes as he looked from me to Alex, weighing his answer. I thought for a moment he was going to tell us to go piss up a rope, but he finally nodded. He suggested the Santa Fe Café, and I let him lead the way. It was a tiny place, no more than ten wooden tables, and it had no décor to speak of. I guessed it did a brisk takeout business. A woman behind the cash register told us we’d need to order from her. We ordered Cokes, and she brought us three cans and glasses.
We took them to the last table in the back. Danny obviously wasn’t interested in small talk, so I got right down to it. I leaned in and spoke quietly. “Griffin got busted for possession of methamphetamine. He swears the dope wasn’t his. Says it belonged to his roommate. But the cops found it in his bedroom. Griffin says he doesn’t know how it got there. We’re putting together a list of character witnesses to try and convince the DA not to file charges. Did you ever know him to do drugs?”
Danny paused, then looked me in the eye. “This is confidential, right? ’Cause you’re his lawyer?” He darted looks around the room.
I nodded. “Absolutely.”
His eyes made another lap before meeting my gaze. “To be honest, he was into weed, did a little cocaine. But not meth. At least, not that I ever knew.”
“Okay, we can leave out that first part and focus on the ‘no meth.’ Would you be willing to sign a statement to that effect?” He scanned the place again before he looked at me. Danny nodded, then took a swig of his soft drink. “Griffin’s one of the good guys. He was always ready for action. Not like a lot of those pussy slackers I got stuck with over there.”
I played dumb. “Over where?”
“Iraq. I did two tours.” His expression turned contemptuous. “Would’ve signed up for a third, but at the end of my second tour, one of the lame-ass fags complained to the sergeant that I was bullying him. The sergeant said he’d have to ‘launch an investigation’ if I wanted to re-up, so I told him to go fuck himself and got out.” Danny took another long gulp of his drink.
We might’ve just found out why they called him “Wild Man Dan.” The anger rolled off him in waves. It wasn’t hard to picture him venting that anger on Abel. I gave him a little smile. “I’d say it was their loss.”
Danny nodded, still a little hot. “Bet your ass.” He took another swallow and emptied the can. I waited to see whether he’d crush it in his hand, but he just set it down and pushed it aside.
“Another round?”
“No, thanks. I’m good.”
He seemed a little calmer now. I needed to find out whether Danny had an alibi. “You and Griffin stay in touch?”
Danny nodded. “We have beers every once in a while. Talk about it all.”
“By any chance, were you guys hanging out on March second? That’d be the night before he got busted.” Actually, it was the night of the murders.
Danny turned so his side was to me and looked at me out of the corner of his eye. “I think I went bowling with some of the guys from work that night.”
“And then?”
Danny looked at me, his expression turning hostile. “And then nothing. I went home.”
“Anybody waiting for you there?”
Danny glared at me for a long moment. “What’s it to you?”
I gave him a sexy smile. “Just wondering.”
His face slowly relaxed, and he returned my smile. “Only thing waiting for me were my bills.”
I picked up my cell phone and spoke in a coy voice that made me nauseous. “Can I text you my number?” His eyes roamed over my body as he gave me his number. I hit send and smiled again. “There you go.” I planned to block his number the moment we left the café.
I had one more line of attack, but I had to make it sound casual. I picked up my purse as though I were getting ready to leave. “You live around here?”
“Yeah, just for the past year or so. Used to live in Glendale.”
“Glendale? That’s where that family got killed, isn’t it? Did you know them?”
Danny’s face darkened. “No. But I heard that kid was a piece of shit.”
I gave him a puzzled look. “You mean the girl?”
He shook his head, his eyes glittering with malice. “The boy. Abel. A real punk-ass bitch.”
“Because?”
Danny stared off. “Let’s just put it this way: the world’s a better place without that little rat-faced bastard.”
I shot Alex a quick look. He patted his left lapel and nodded. He’d recorded it all.
TWENTY
I exhaled for what felt like the first time in fifteen minutes as Alex drove away from the UPS building. “What do you think?”
“I can definitely see him doing it. Is it enough to get him arrested?”
He had the motive, the temperament, and no alibi. But he sure didn’t look like any AB gangbanger. “Maybe not. But it’s enough to make him a person of interest.”
We headed back to the PAB. Dale was in the break room eating a Hot Pocket that smelled like burned cardboard. Luckily, he was alone. When I told him what we’d done, he dropped the half-eaten Hot Pocket on his plate. “What the hell are you doing? You’re a lawyer, not a cop. Remember?”
“Hey, I just handed you a prime suspect, and no one in LAPD was even close. You’re welcome.”
“You really need to back off, Samantha.” Dale gave an exasperated sigh and held out his hand. “Give me the recording. I’ll get it to Emmons and Templeton.”
“How about I take this to them, since—you know—I’m the one who managed to get it.”
He looked me in the eye. “And the one who’ll take major-league gas for interfering in an investigation if I don’t talk them down off the ledge.” He sat back and waved a hand at me. “But go ahead, be my guest. Maybe they’ll kiss your ring and name a holiday after you.”
I didn’t think Emmons was the type to get huffy about how he solved the case, but Rusty Templeton might. I loved the idea of rubbing the cops’ noses in the fact that I’d gotten further than they had, but it wasn’t worth the risk. I nodded to Alex. “Give it to him.” Alex handed over his mini recorder. “I’ll expect that back by tomorrow. Are they going to follow up? Or just shove it in a bottom drawer?”
Dale gave me a hard look. “We’re not all lazy sacks of shit, Sam. It’s not my call, but I’m sure they’ll look into this Danny guy.”
I didn’t like it, but I had to let it go. “I assume no results on the print run for your Nazi Low Rider.”
Dale looked worried. “Not yet. But they’re riding the print guy hard. We should have them soon.”
“Let me know what happens.” I turned to go.
Dale stood up. “Sam?”
I looked back at him. “Yeah?”
“Nice work.”
I gave him a flat smile. “Yeah, I know.”
As we headed back to the car, Alex said, “The only way they won’t follow up on Danny is if that Low Rider guy’s prints match the crime scene.”
I knew that. But in the past couple of days, my gut had been telling me that this wasn’t an AB killing, that all this focus on the Nazi Low Riders was just a waste of time. Anyone can wear a blue bandanna. And plenty of young males have some kind of tattoo.
While Alex drove us back to the office—or, rather, inched us toward the office behind miles of red taillights—I called Michelle to fill her in on our escapades and see whether I’d missed anything.
“You got a call from Louis, your co-counsel on that eighteen-count robbery case. He thinks your guy may be
willing to plead now. He said you’d understand.”
“And I do. That’s excellent.” I’d asked Louis to get his client to work on mine and make him agree to take the deal. Sometimes this works; most times it doesn’t. This was a gift. “Anything else?”
“Deshawn called again. Seriously, what’s up with him? His case was done ages ago.”
I thought fast. The truth is always the best lie. “A friend of his is in hot water, and he’s trying to help, which means he needs me to help.” All true. A thousand percent watered down, but true. I ended the call, and when Alex got off the freeway, I asked him to stop at the gas station mini mart near the freeway so I could get a bottle of water.
Also so I could call Deshawn. I hid in the bathroom. “What’s up?”
“I can’t stay here, man. I’m about to lose my damn mind. There’s nothin’ going on, nothin’ to do.”
“You picked the place, remember? Don’t you have any friends up there?”
“Hell, no.” He muttered something under his breath. “I don’t know what I was thinkin’ when I told you to put me up here in East Jesus. But you gotta wrap it up and get me outta here.”
“I’m working on it, Deshawn. Just give me one more week.” Regardless of his ennui, a week was all my credit card could handle. I ended the call with a very strong desire to bang my head against the wall. When we got back, I went into my office and closed the door. And punched the crap out of the pillows on my couch. A hundred thousand dollars. How the hell was I going to find that much money? For a single, desperate moment, I thought about asking Alex to try and hack into some rich guy’s bank account. But what if he got caught? I’d never forgive myself.
My cell phone quacked and interrupted my slugfest. It was Dale. “Do I want to admit I got this call?” I was thinking Emmons and Templeton had told Dale to lock me up.
“Definitely not.” Dale’s voice was so low I had to strain to hear. “It’s a no match. We’re letting the Nazi go.”
I sank back in my seat, feeling vindicated. “They going to see Danny?”
“I sure hope so. Gotta go.” He ended the call.
I told Alex to come in.
He must’ve been able to see the triumph on my face, because he smiled and said, “It’s not the Low Rider, I take it.”
“No.” Something about Danny had pinged in my brain earlier, and now it pinged again. What was it? Alex interrupted my train of thought. “If it wasn’t an Aryan Brotherhood guy, do they still need to guard Paula?”
“They probably still will until they have the right guy in custody, just to be on the safe side.” I refocused, tried to grab hold of the thought. Then I had it. “Alex, I’ve gotta make a call, but when I’m done, let’s head back to Glendale.” I told him where I wanted to go.
Phillip Bryer was happy to see us. “I was just about to have dinner. Lamb stew. My own special recipe. I made a bunch. You’re welcome to join me.”
It smelled delicious, but I declined. I reminded him what he’d told us about the man he’d seen standing in front of his house the day of the murders. He nodded. “Yeah, and I thought he was looking at the Sonnenbergs’ house.”
Alex had taken a photo of Danny Nusmith while pretending to answer a text when we were at the Santa Fe Café. He pulled it up now and showed it to Phillip. I held my breath as I watched him study it. When he looked up, his expression was grim. “That’s the guy all right.”
My pulse jumped. “Are you sure?”
“Very sure.”
Now what? I’d probably already pissed off Emmons and Templeton once. It wouldn’t go over well if I got caught meddling in the case again. But what were they going to do? They couldn’t ignore it just because it came from me. “Do you have any problem telling the police about this?”
Phillip shook his head. “None whatsoever.”
I excused myself and stepped outside to call Dale. He answered with dread in his voice. “What now?”
“Shut up and be grateful. I have a witness who saw Danny across the street from the crime scene the afternoon of the murders.”
“How close?”
“Directly across the street, and he seemed to be watching the house.”
Dale sighed. “You with him now?” I said I was. “Okay, give me his name and address. And stay there. Emmons and Templeton are going to want to find out what you said to the guy. I assume you showed him a photo.” I said I had. “They’ll want to see it.”
“I’m going to let this guy have his dinner in peace. Tell them to call me when they’re close.”
“Okay, but don’t go far.” He ended the call.
I went back inside. “The police will be coming by to take your statement pretty soon. We’ll be back when they get here. In the meantime, enjoy your dinner. And thank you.”
When we got back in the car, Alex said, “We have to wait for the detectives, I take it.” I nodded. “That’s actually good police procedure—”
I pointed a finger at him. “No, you’re not. You’re not talking to me about that goddamn book.”
Alex was unperturbed. “It’s a different one. But okay. What’re we going to do for the next hour?”
“For starters, hit a drive-thru. I’m starving.”
“There’s a Wendy’s on Glenoaks Boulevard.”
It was no lamb stew, but I was in no position to be picky. I was ready to eat the headrest. “Let’s do it.”
We’d just parked and unwrapped our burgers when Dale called me back. “Never mind about hanging around. Danny admitted he was there.”
“You’re kidding. What’d he say?”
“That he was thinking about beating the shit out of Abel for raping his sister, but—”
I finished the statement for him. “But he decided not to, and he’s denying the murders.”
“Yep. So they arrested him to buy time to run his prints. And they asked me to give you a message. It’s two words.”
Finally. I said, “Thank you?”
“You got the second word right.” He ended the call.
Ungrateful bastards.
TWENTY-ONE
We headed back to the office, and I stretched my legs, glad that Alex was driving. “I know we’ve been doing a lot of running around, but did you happen to have a chance to get Cassie’s cell phone records?” I’d been curious to know who she was talking to and texting so much ever since Debbie had told me about it. I always wanted to know everything that was going on with my clients. This routinely put us at odds, because my clients never wanted me to know anything about what they were up to.
Alex nodded. “I put them on your desk.”
I didn’t remember seeing them, but the brief time I’d spent in my office had been taken up with beating the snot out of my couch. “Anything interesting?”
“Actually, yeah. Some calls to her besties, Tawny and Rain. But, like, a hundred calls to one Earl Lee Riser.”
Early Riser. Shit. “A burner phone?”
Alex was unhappy, too. “Yeah, so I have no clue who that is. And before you ask, yes, I’m working on the cell tower records.”
But that’d only give us a general area where the burner phone usually was when it took and placed calls. It wouldn’t pin down the calls to a house or an apartment. Now I was more curious than ever. Who was this guy? I supposed I’d have to bite the bullet and ask Cassie. She probably wouldn’t tell me, but whatever. It wasn’t our highest priority right now.
The high priority was Danny’s prints. I was hoping they’d match the latents at the crime scene.
Alex turned in to the parking lot under our building and managed to find a space right next to my car. I was shocked—until I remembered what day it was. I sighed. “Sorry to ruin your Saturday.” Not that I hadn’t done it before, but still.
“My Saturday night and my poker night.”
“Poker night?” Somehow, I hadn’t pictured Alex as a poker player.
Alex raised an eyebrow. “What? You thought I’d be playing mah-jongg?”
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I shrugged. “Or bridge, maybe.”
He reached across me and opened my door. “Get out.”
I slept in late Sunday morning, which meant I had to run all day to squeeze in my chores. When I walked into the office Monday morning, Michelle was talking into her headset.
“Oh, wait. She just walked in. Hang on.” She hit mute and said, “It’s Dale, line one. Sounds serious.”
I hurried into my office, threw my purse on the couch, and picked up the phone. “Thanks, Michelle, I’ve got it.” She clicked off. “Tell me it’s him.”
“It’s not. It’s a no match. We had to cut him loose.”
I flopped down in my chair. “Shit! You’ve gotta be kidding me.”
“I wish I was.” Dale sighed. “Back to square one. Glad it’s not my case.”
I leaned back and stared out the window. I’d bet Emmons and Templeton were bouncing off the walls. I particularly enjoyed that mental image of Rusty Templeton.
Ten minutes later, Emmons called. I prepared to play dumb about Danny, but it turned out that wasn’t why he’d called. He just wanted to tell me that Paula had improved enough to be brought out of her coma. She wasn’t able to do much talking yet, but she was somewhat responsive to the doctors and seemed to understand what was being said to her. The doctors said Cassie could come see her tomorrow morning.
Emmons said he’d called Barbara first, but she couldn’t do it. “She suggested maybe you wouldn’t mind. I figured Cassie would want to see her as soon as possible.”
It’d be nice to be involved in good news for a change. And I could use the car ride to ask Cassie about Earl Lee Riser, our burner phone mystery man. “I’d be glad to. Will you and Rusty be there?”
He sighed. “Yeah. We have to stay close in case she can give us something to go on. We’re all out of leads. And the docs don’t know how she’s going to do. She could recover, or she could go lights-out real fast. So we can’t afford to miss our window.” He paused. “Uh, Sam, do me a favor? Don’t get into it with Rusty, okay?”