RK02 - Guilt By Degrees

by Marcia Clark

  “I didn’t expect even Hemet to stoop that low,” I said.

  “Look, if you had any doubt, now you know: it’s on,” Toni said, her eyes flashing with anger. “So what’re you going to do about it?”

  I shook my head slowly. We got off at the eighteenth floor, and I punched in the numerical code on the security door to our wing. As we headed to my office, I pondered my options. None was great.

  “If I call the reporter and give him a response, I’ll make it a bigger deal. You know what they say—”

  “You wrestle with a pig, you both get down in the mud, but the pig likes it,” Toni finished for me. “Kinda late for that. The mud’s flying, and some of it’s already on you.”

  “But there’s more to it here. The last thing I need is attention from the press.” I explained about having to find Lilah Bayer before the press got its hands on the surveillance footage and spooked her into running.

  “So you’re trying to outrun them?” Toni shook her head. “Good luck with that.”

  She sat down in front of my desk and put her feet up on the table by the window. I dropped my purse into my bottom drawer and looked longingly at the bottle of Glenlivet, then quickly slammed the drawer shut and plopped down into my majestic judge’s chair—the one I’d proudly corralled after finding it abandoned in the office hallway late one night. On brighter occasions, Toni and I’d tried to picture the scenario that caused it to roll off a judge’s bench on the fifteenth floor and into a corridor in the DA’s office on the eighteenth.

  I slipped off my shoes and curled my feet under me.

  “You really think Vanderhorn’s going to care what an idiot like Hemet says?” I asked.

  “Vanderhorn cares about what makes him look bad,” Toni replied. “Hemet’s mudslinging about you has ‘bad for Vanderhorn’ written all over it.” She paused and raised an ominous eyebrow. “Especially if anything goes wrong with the case.”

  “So your advice is, what?” I asked irritably. “Don’t let anything go wrong?”

  Toni shrugged. “Yeah, pretty much. Just don’t lose, and everything’ll be fine.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Gee, thanks, Tone,” I said sarcastically. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

  It came out a lot snarkier than I’d intended.

  “Gee, Rache, I don’t know,” Toni replied. “Maybe because you’re too busy jumping my shit?” She stared at me. “What’s going on? You are not yourself.”

  More than her words, Toni’s expression of concern brought me to a screeching halt.

  “Or, apparently, anyone better,” I admitted. “I’m sorry, Tone.”

  “You want to talk about it?” she asked softly.

  Her gentle tone unlocked the angry shell I’d built around the pain of losing Graden, and against my will, I felt tears leap to my eyes. But the middle of a workday was no time to lose it. Mutely, I shook my head and pressed my fingers to my temples as I willed the tears back.

  “Okay,” Toni said. “You let me know when you’re ready.”

  I nodded.

  Her cell phone rang, and she looked down at the number and sighed. “The IO on my geezer bandit case—I’ve gotta take it.”

  I waved her off. “Go. And don’t worry, we’ll talk.”

  Toni smiled as she opened her phone and headed out to her office.

  I tried to lose myself in the work that’d piled up on my desk, but my thoughts kept wandering back to my fight with Graden. Was my need to keep Romy a secret really all about my feelings of guilt? Not just my desire for privacy or an escape from my past? And even if it was guilt, I knew I wasn’t just imagining Graden’s control issues. So maybe we’d never have made it anyway—Romy or no. The truth was, we’d probably always been doomed. My need for privacy—obsessive as it might be—would always clash with Graden’s need to control and know all. Better to accept that it had always been hopeless than believe the lie that we’d ever stood a chance of making it.

  I pushed away from that depressing conclusion and found my thoughts returning to Lilah. I pulled out my “Lilah list” and went to work.

  I was on my cell, wrapping up a call with my contact in the public school system, when my office phone rang.

  “DA’s office,” I said.

  “We got something on the bank video,” Bailey said.

  “Something—as in a view of the killer?”

  “No.” Bailey sighed.

  “Then we’re stuck with Lilah.”

  “Yeah. We’ve hit every place within camera range.”

  I was already in a lousy mood, and this news didn’t help—even if I hadn’t really expected the bank video to give us the stabber. “Why don’t you bring it over?”

  “Thought you might want to come watch it here,” Bailey replied. “It’s on your way home, and we could grab a drink after…”

  It was on my way home, and ordinarily I’d have been on board with the plan. But now I was suspicious. Was she purposely trying to get me into the station? This was the second time she’d suggested it today. On the other hand, both occasions made sense, so maybe I was just being paranoid? Either way, I wasn’t taking the bait.

  “I need to finish up some work here,” I replied tightly. Even little lies didn’t come easy with Bailey or Toni. “Why don’t you bring it here and then we can go back to the hotel for a drink?”

  I knew that over drinks, I was going to have to tell her about Graden. For all I knew, he’d already jumped back into the dating pool. I didn’t want Bailey to find out from someone else. Of course, this meant I had to come up with a decent reason for the breakup, and so far I hadn’t thought of anything that’d float. Or, to be completely accurate, anything at all.

  Bailey paused a beat, but she agreed. “Be there in ten.”

  40

  It actually took her twenty minutes, but I didn’t mind. For some weird reason, I got more work done in those twenty minutes than I’d managed to do in the last two hours.

  “What took you so long?” I asked when she appeared in my doorway.

  “Ran into Graden on my way out,” she replied.

  How unlucky could I get? But I didn’t think he’d talk about anything personal during work hours, so I was fairly sure he hadn’t said anything to Bailey. And I knew he’d never tell anyone about Romy—not after the way I’d reacted. As angry as I was, I still knew I could trust him not to deliberately do anything to hurt me.

  I fought to keep my voice even. “Oh?”

  Bailey shrugged. “He looked a little rocky, but I guess everyone’s entitled to their off days.”

  She peered closely at me, then looked away. The moment of silence stretched on while I tried to decide whether to just tell her now. Ultimately she made the decision for me.

  “Here,” she said, producing a disc. “Pop this in your computer.”

  From the moment the image came up on my screen, I could tell this was a sharper picture than any of the other surveillance footage. It figured that a bank would have better equipment. The camera captured Simon from the front, so that meant it was behind the stabber. We watched as Simon approached Lilah and grabbed her arm, then got shoved off. I paused the disc and pointed.

  “Looks like a side view of Yamaguchi, doesn’t it?” I said.

  “Yep. Confirms his story,” Bailey agreed. “Push forward a little way, and you’ll see…”

  I did and saw that Yamaguchi immediately stepped back, then turned and moved out of range. “Simon’s still standing,” I said.

  “Right,” Bailey agreed. “Now put it in slo-mo.”

  I hit a key, and the disc moved frame by frame. I watched as a hand protruding from a long-sleeved shirt or jacket stretched out toward Simon. The hand was closed; I couldn’t tell what, if anything, was in it.

  One second later, the hand made a rapid, forceful thrust straight into Simon’s abdomen, then quickly withdrew. But as Bailey’d said, the camera hadn’t picked up the stabber’s face or even his body. Whoever it was immediately moved back an
d out of range as Simon sank to the ground.

  I played it again. This time, as the hand extended, I froze the image and stared.

  “So this is all we’re going to get on our stabber as far as surveillance footage goes,” I said.

  Bailey nodded. “We need Lilah.”

  We exchanged a look. A tough case had just gotten exponentially tougher.

  I turned back to the computer screen. “It’s a man’s hand, no question. Let’s get a still blowup and see what we can see. Be nice to find a tattoo or something.”

  “Be nice to find anything,” Bailey groused.

  I replayed it three more times, noting the brief glimpse of Lilah’s arm and then its complete disappearance. The second time, I concentrated on Simon. The third time, I focused again on the stabber’s hand.

  “No faces,” I said. “But it does get us closer to some answers.” I paused the video and pointed to the stabber’s wrist. “See that watch?”

  “Yeah, I noticed that too,” Bailey said. “Looks kinda special.”

  I nodded. “I’d say it—”

  Bailey cut me off. “Say it over drinks and food. Because, speaking of watches”—she glanced at her wrist—“mine says it’s time to get out of here.”

  It was almost seven p.m. Ordinarily this was the shank of the evening for me, when I did my best office work. But I knew I wouldn’t be able to focus tonight. And, besides, I couldn’t stall much longer. I decided to get it over with and tell Bailey and Toni about my fight with Graden tonight. I’d figure out what to say on the way over…I hoped.

  “Want to see if Toni’s available?” I asked.

  “Always.”

  I called her on her cell.

  “You couldn’t walk down the hall and ask me in person?” Toni laughed.

  “What if you said no?” I asked, incredulous. “I’d have walked all that way for nothing.”

  “I need a few more minutes to wrap up. I’ll meet you over there.”

  Fifteen minutes later, Bailey and I walked into the bar at the Biltmore, and I steered her over to a booth near the electric fire.

  “Since when do we sit in a booth?” she asked.

  We always sat at the bar, in part so we could talk to Drew—the other part so Bailey could check him out when she thought we weren’t looking. But Drew was off tonight—one of the reasons I’d wanted to meet here. It’d be hard enough to bear up under a grilling by Toni and Bailey without having Drew chime in too. Before I had the chance to answer, Toni walked in.

  “What’s up with the booth?” she asked as she slid in next to me.

  I signaled to the waiter to bring our “usuals”: three Ketel One martinis, straight up with a twist.

  “I wanted some privacy,” I admitted. “And as soon as we get our drinks, I’ll tell you why.”

  They both raised their eyebrows at me, but they capitulated and caught up with each other while I frantically searched for a believable explanation for my breakup with Graden. In the end, as the waiter approached our table with the tray of drinks, I decided on a version of the truth. As they say, the truth is always the best lie.

  We toasted to ourselves and took a sip. Mine was long and hearty.

  When everyone had put their glasses down, I said simply, “Graden and I broke up.”

  Neither of them looked shocked. I was relieved. And a little insulted.

  Bailey nodded. “If I hadn’t seen him today, I’d have been blasted by this news. But given the way he looked…it figures.”

  Toni stared pointedly at me. “And you—”

  “Have been really special too,” Bailey chimed in.

  “I know,” I said. “And I’m sorry—”

  “You don’t need to go there,” Bailey said. “I get it. But what happened? You guys seemed so great together.”

  I admit, I was momentarily thrown at hearing the very words that Graden had used last night. Last night? It was hard to believe that only one day had passed, not even twenty-four hours.

  “I think he just…got a little too controlling,” I said, staring down at my drink. I looked from Bailey to Toni. “You know?”

  After a beat of silence, Bailey replied, “Bull.”

  Toni looked perplexed…and unconvinced. “Was that really news to you, Rache? I mean, look what he does for a living. Isn’t that part of the job description?”

  I thought about what she’d said. “Probably so,” I agreed. “But it’s one thing on the job, and a completely different thing when it comes to a relationship.”

  Toni still looked confused. “But again, you didn’t know that to begin with? So why all of a sudden? What happened?”

  Damn. Toni was a good lawyer. And so, like any good lawyer, she spotted the flaw and went straight at it. I knew she wouldn’t let go until she got an answer she could believe.

  “I guess I just didn’t see how much it would get under my skin at first,” I said. And that was the truth—even if not the whole truth. “Sometimes you can’t know how things will play out until you’ve…played with them awhile.” My lame attempt at a joke didn’t work. The table remained silent. Neither Bailey nor Toni looked convinced, but they knew better than to press for an answer that simply wasn’t coming. At least, not right now.

  “So how’re you doing, Knight?” Bailey asked gently.

  “I’m okay,” I said, the words somewhat undermined by my wobbly voice. I quickly swallowed to push down the lump in my throat and added, “Well, I will be okay.”

  I tried to sound confident, if only to convince myself.

  “Saying it won’t make it so, Rachel,” Toni remarked as she looked at me closely. “And this time…I don’t know.” She fell silent.

  Bailey’s expression told me she agreed with Toni.

  “Are you sure it’s for good? Everyone has their rocky times.” Bailey gestured to Toni. “Just ask the queen of the bumpy road over here,” she said with a little smile.

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Toni replied with mock indignation. “But you can’t tell me you and Drew don’t get into it,” she challenged. “You got so mad that one time you threw his boxers into the blender.”

  Bailey gave a small smile and shook her head. “He had it coming.”

  “No doubt,” Toni replied. “And what happened?”

  Bailey shrugged. “New boxers, new blender, we moved on.”

  “And they’re still together,” Toni said with a pointed look.

  I shook my head, a leaden weight in my chest. “Not happening for us.”

  The table fell silent, and we all took a sip of our drinks to cover the awkward moment. As we put our glasses down, I saw Bailey and Toni exchange a look I couldn’t—and maybe didn’t want to—decipher. Telling them about the breakup was almost as stressful as withholding the real reason for it. And I worried that now that the story of Romy had been brought into the present, by consciously withholding it I’d create a distance between us. But I wasn’t ready to tell them and wasn’t sure if I ever would be. Not knowing what to do, I went for my default mode.

  “Mind if we talk about that bank video for a minute, Bailey?”

  I was gratified to see the look of relief on their faces at the change of subject. We filled Toni in on what we’d seen.

  I concluded by observing, “I watched Simon just before the stabbing. He never pulled the box cutter.”

  Bailey shook her head. “Didn’t have the chance,” she agreed.

  “From what I saw,” I said, replaying the footage in my mind, “by the time Simon got stabbed, Lilah was completely out of his reach.”

  “No way our stabber can claim self-defense—,” Bailey said.

  “Or defense of another,” I added.

  “Then from what I just heard,” Toni observed, “your stabber had to have been with Lilah.”

  “I’d say we can let go of the theory that he was just an unrelated Joe Blow helping a damsel in distress,” I agreed.

  “So fill me in on Zack’s murder,” Toni sa
id. “I never did get the full story.”

  We gave Toni the rundown. When we finished, she sat back and looked from me to Bailey. “Who is this Lilah woman anyway? I have never heard of a female killing that way.”

  “That may be the point,” I said.

  I explained that assuming she’d committed the murder, Bailey and I believed she’d deliberately done it in the most gruesome manner possible. For just that reason.

  “I get it, but still,” Toni replied. “Even if she did it to throw off a jury…that’s one ice-cold bitch.”

  Bailey and I nodded. No argument there.

  41

  Sabrina left the top two buttons on her emerald silk blouse undone. Just enough to intrigue but not advertise. She twisted her hair into a loose bun at the nape of her neck and chose the silver chain earrings to add a little sparkle. She glanced at her watch. She had an hour before Chase was due. More than enough time for what she had planned.

  She stopped the taxi at Second and Spring and walked the rest of the way to the Redwood Bar & Grill. Minutes later, she pushed into the darkened lounge and paused just inside the door to let her eyes adjust. After a few seconds, she spotted him. He was sitting alone, a glass with ice and the remains of a drink in front of him. She stood there, watching, getting the lay of the land. He didn’t appear to be expecting company. She walked over to the bar and slowly climbed onto the chair two seats to his right. As she settled in, she surreptitiously glanced in his direction. He was staring straight ahead. He did not look happy.

  The bartender, who’d been serving two mustached men in shirtsleeves at the other end of the bar, stopped in front of the man. “Another Glenlivet?”

  The man looked down at his glass. “Make this one a Russian Standard Platinum.”

  “Thought that was your prettier half’s drink.” The bartender turned and pulled the bottle out of the refrigerator and scooped ice into a glass, then poured a generous shot and set it down. “She coming?”

  The man clenched his jaw a moment before answering. “No.”

  Sabrina leaned in. “Russian Standard Platinum?”

  The man seemed not to hear her, but the bartender, who’d been wiping his hands on a towel, turned to Sabrina. His eyes widened and for a moment his mind went blank as he stared. Finally he found his voice. “It’s terrific. Would you like to try it?”