by Marcia Clark
And the same heavy glasses.
70
Hoping we were on a roll, I called Scott. “Hey, Scottsky,” I said. “How’re we doing on the autopsy report?”
He loved it when I called him Scottsky.
“You know I hate when you call me that,” he said. Then he sighed. “I’ve got it. But it’ll cost you.”
I knew the drill. “You say when.”
“I’ll leave it for you at the desk.”
I picked up my coat and purse. “Autopsy report’s ready.”
This time we got lucky and hit the freeway between traffic snarls. We made it to the coroner’s office in just thirty minutes. We were back in the car with the report open on my lap in another three. Although reading while the car’s in motion usually makes me queasy, I couldn’t wait.
“Degree of decomposition indicates Tran was there for about two weeks,” I said.
“So he stole the car and nailed himself on the same day.”
“Yeah…cause of death, blunt force trauma…tox report shows meth in the bloodstream…personal effects…clothing, wallet…” I stopped.
After a few moments, Bailey turned to look at me. “What? What?” she said impatiently.
“No glasses,” I said. “No cell phone. And only one shoe.”
“He got thrown through a window,” Bailey said. “Everything went flying. Maybe they just didn’t find it all. And some stuff could’ve been dragged off by critters.”
“I suppose…but coyotes don’t use cell phones, and I don’t know of anything that eats shoes.” I shifted in my seat, agitated.
Bailey sighed, recognizing the signs. “Okay, what’re you thinking?”
I took a moment to collect my thoughts.
“We’ve got a bogus theft report for Alicia Morris made from La Poubelle, which was taken by Zack Bayer,” I began. “Lilah’d been sighted there around that time. We have an Asian kid on his way to meet buddies at Birds, just a few feet away from La Poubelle, on the night he goes missing…”
Bailey nodded. “Then we have an auto-theft report by Conrad Bagram that says the car registered to Lilah was stolen off his lot about the same time Tran Lee goes missing,” she chimed in. “And two weeks later, Lee’s found dead in that car in Griffith Park—”
“Missing his glasses, a cell phone, and one shoe,” I added.
“Stoned and with a crack pipe,” Bailey said.
I frowned. Something about this was bugging me. “Bagram’s shop. How far is it from Birds and La Poubelle?”
“About two miles,” Bailey said.
“So why would Tran hit a place like Bagram’s on the way to meet his buddies?”
After a few moments, Bailey replied, “Maybe took a bus to Birds, rode past Bagram’s place, got inspired…”
We could check possible bus routes, but I didn’t like it. “If Tran was going on a joyride, wouldn’t he have called his buddies and invited them to join? Or at least tell them he wasn’t coming? According to Duncan, he wasn’t the type to just flake out.”
Bailey stared at the road. “Unless he was that high.”
I shrugged. “Pretty strained, don’t you think?”
“So…what? You don’t think Tran stole Lilah’s car off Bagram’s lot?”
“No.” I paused to collect my thoughts. “None of the contact information about Alicia Morris checks out, but Tran Lee definitely wound up in Lilah’s car—”
“And he didn’t take that car to Birds—”
“And he never contacted his buddies to say he wasn’t coming,” I said. “In fact, he wound up several miles away from there, up in the woods in Griffith Park.”
“Pretty hinky,” Bailey agreed. “And then there’s the bogus info on Alicia Morris.”
“Who reported her car stolen about the same time Bagram reported Lilah’s car stolen. Which, by the way, just happened to be six months before Zack and Lilah got married—”
“And Alicia’s car happened to have a VIN only one digit off from Lilah’s. So the VIN wouldn’t be an obvious mismatch with the year of the phony car.”
“Lilah is Alicia Morris,” I said. “That’s how Lilah and Zack met.”
Bailey considered what I’d said, then nodded. “Why would Lilah give Zack a fake name, address, and VIN?”
“I don’t think she did.”
Bailey turned to look at me before refocusing on the road. I could see the implications of what I’d just said settling in. “The only other way that report gets dummied up like that is if Zack…”
I said nothing and let Bailey fill in the blanks. We drove in silence for the next few minutes. By the time she parked behind the Criminal Courts Building, her expression was stormy. We didn’t speak again until we’d fought the surging homebound crowds and reached my office. I dropped my purse and took off my coat, and Bailey settled into a chair in front of my desk.
“Lilah hit Tran and took the body up to Griffith Park,” Bailey said.
“She covered up a hit-and-run.”
“It did bug me that Tran Lee’s supposed to meet his buddies at Birds and somehow winds up solo, driving off an embankment in a stolen car.”
“When someone calls in a stolen car, there’s a record of time, date, and place the call was made, right?” I asked.
Bailey nodded. “And a recording of the call—”
“So you could hear the voice—and tell whether it’s male or female, young or old, right?”
“Yeah,” Bailey replied. “It’s probably not clear enough to match up a voice to a person in a court of law, but it’s good enough to rule out a voice that obviously doesn’t fit. And if your theory holds, then Lilah called it in herself—”
“So there was no hiding the fact that a female made the stolen report, and said it’d been stolen from the area near La Poubelle. Zack knew whatever he put in his report would have to match that call. Hence, he put down Alicia Morris, white female, a close VIN, and the location as La Poubelle. So then the question becomes, why would Zack bother to dummy up her stolen report? He’s basically burying her connection to the car Tran ended up in, right?”
“Right. And she’d get a copy of the report at some point and be able to see that all her personal information was bogus. So she had to have gone along with it.”
“My take? Lilah’s report was a lie to begin with. Her car was never stolen,” I said.
We fell silent. I played it all out again in my mind, looking for flaws, but I was pretty sure I’d figured it out. At least some of it.
“But if Lilah drove up to Griffith Park and then sent the car off the hill, that means she would’ve had to drag Tran’s body into the car. She’s no weight lifter,” Bailey said.
I looked at the coroner’s report. “Tran Lee was barely five foot two, weighed one hundred and ten pounds. A woman could drag a body that size into a car. Especially with this kind of motivation.” I opened the bottom drawer of my desk and put my feet up.
“So if we think Detective Rick knew about Lilah’s car being reported stolen, how come he didn’t catch this bogus report listing Alicia Morris as the victim?” Bailey asked.
I’d thought about this too. “Why would he?” I replied. “Zack was a murder victim. The only reason that report gets a look is if you’re doing what we did. Even if he did do a search through Zack’s past reports—and he might have—he would’ve done it for a different reason.”
“To find suspects who might’ve had motive and means to kill Zack,” Bailey said. “With an emphasis on skinheads.”
“Right,” I agreed. “So why would you look at an auto-theft victim—a female at that—as a suspect for Zack’s killing?”
“You wouldn’t,” Bailey agreed.
“And who’d ever care about that report? The VIN and license plate listed on it don’t tie in to any other crime.”
Bailey nodded. “Then that means two things: one, Zack figured out that Lilah’s story about the auto theft was bullshit very shortly after he took her report, and two, he go
t Bagram to cover for Lilah by saying her car was stolen off his lot.”
“It’s not hard to imagine that Bagram had a relationship with a cop who was willing to cut him slack now and then,” I agreed.
“How did Zack know there’d be a body to find?”
I stared out the window, then spoke slowly, considering the plausibility of my theory as I laid it out. “I don’t think he did. Even Lilah, with her considerable superpowers over men, couldn’t count on getting a cop to cover up a homicide. No, she made a phony stolen report and hoped it’d stick. I think when Zack checked out the scene, he found evidence that showed Lilah might’ve done a hit-and-run and dummied up his initial report, put in a fake name and fake VIN and license plate number—”
“Just in case a body turned up,” Bailey finished.
“That way, he’s got a report to show for the auto-theft call that came in that night and it won’t come back to Lilah’s car,” I said. “And then he covered for the possibility that her car would turn up with evidence that it was in a hit-and-run by getting his buddy Conrad Bagram to report that Lilah’s car was on consignment and got stolen off his lot.”
“So, even if Zack was wrong about the hit-and-run, or the car never turned up again, it wouldn’t matter,” Bailey said.
“And six months after all this business with the stolen car and Tran Lee, Lilah—a brand-new junior associate with a bright future at a big law firm—marries Zack, the cop who just happened to take the first theft report—”
“Which turns out to be bogus,” Bailey said. “They met when he covered her for a hit-and-run—”
“Nothing spells love like hiding evidence of a homicide.”
“And I’d bet Zack could tell she’d been drinking,” Bailey said. “He made contact with her at the bar, so he not only saw for himself what she looked like but had access to the witnesses who could tell him how much she’d had that night.”
“Right. If she hadn’t been drinking, she wouldn’t have had anything to hide. There’s no need to set up a car-theft story if it was just an accident. She’s a lawyer—she knows this much. She was probably looking at a drunk-driving manslaughter. A young lawyer with a conviction like that means bye-bye big corporate career.”
Bailey frowned. “But if Zack saved her future when he got rid of the evidence, why would she kill him?”
“Good friggin’ question.” I exhaled and folded my arms across my chest. “It’s not like he could ever afford to ‘out’ her. If he did, he’d get charged with filing a phony report, hiding evidence…the list goes on. They’d cart him away in handcuffs. So why kill him?” I sat back in my chair.
“Matter of fact, assuming she wanted to dump his ass, why not just wait for the statute of limitations to run out? What is it, six years?”
“Something like that.”
“Not so long to wait. And once the statute runs, she’s in the clear; they can’t prosecute her.”
I nodded. “And, being a lawyer, Lilah would’ve known that…”
“So maybe she really didn’t kill Zack.”
I dropped my arms and leaned back in my chair. I had the feeling we were missing something. But what? I knew we were on the right track; the Tran Lee hit-and-run figured into all of this somehow. I turned the problem over, trying to see it from different angles. It’d always seemed odd that Zack and Lilah wound up together. Though it was true they both appeared to be climbers, she was on the partner fast-track in a high-dollar corporate law firm. What could a cop—even an upwardly mobile one—do for her career? Nothing. In fact, in her crowd, it’d be a hindrance, make her look déclassé. And from what I’d seen, Lilah wasn’t the romantic type who’d throw it all away for love. My thoughts looped back to the hit-and-run…Zack as the investigator…
And suddenly I knew. It was foul, depraved, and sickening, but I knew I had it. I turned to look at Bailey—she was going to like this even less than I did.
“What if Zack didn’t destroy the evidence?”
Bailey sat forward and looked at me intently. “And Lilah knew it?”
We exchanged a long look.
“Zack was blackmailing her,” I said. “That’s how he got her to marry him.”
71
It was a monstrous thing to contemplate. It was awful, but not impossible, to imagine a cop burying evidence of a homicide so he could blackmail the killer. But to use that to force someone to marry him, and keep her hostage with the threat of a murder rap hanging over her head…forever? Even though I was the one who’d raised the possibility, I found it hard to believe.
Bailey shook her head, stricken. “I don’t know…it’s so…”
“Pathological?”
She nodded, her expression troubled. “From every angle. Not only because it’s a sick thing to do to begin with, but jeez, like we just said, once the statute ran, what’s to stop her from nailing him for hiding the evidence? Doesn’t that seem more than a little crazy to you?”
“No, or rather, yes. But not for the reason you think. First of all, even after the statute ran, there’s no way Lilah could ever afford to turn Zack in. Remember, he didn’t falsify that report alone. She’s in it up to her ears. If he goes down for that, then so does she. The only thing she skates on is the manslaughter. And when it comes out that she committed the hit-and-run and then conspired to hide the evidence, even if she somehow beat the criminal charges, her big, fancy career would be toast with a capital T. No law firm will hire someone with a record like that. Second, I think Zack was more than a little crazy—not that she’s a model of sanity—but he was obviously willing to take the risk that she might not be as predictable as he thought. He had to have considered the possibility that she might just decide being free of him was worth the downside. But I think he was willing to go down as long as she did too. It was a game of power and control, and he had it rigged so her only choice was either to live with him and endure or to ‘out’ him and wave good-bye to her future.”
As I said those words, I envisioned Zack and Lilah locked in a macabre tango, nose-to-nose, neither of them able, or willing, to look away, hands clutching each other’s throat. Had the dance finally pushed Lilah over the edge, into murdering Zack?
Bailey blew out a breath. “Damn.” Then, echoing my thoughts, she said, “Then killing him would’ve been the only way out.”
“Yeah, but is there any case that gets investigated more thoroughly than a cop killing? How could she be sure she’d get away with it? Talk about your risks. That’s the mother of them all.”
“True that.”
We fell silent. I knew we had the hit-and-run piece of the puzzle in the right place, but Lilah’s role in Zack’s murder was still an open question. I looked back at Bailey, who was staring down at the floor.
She peered up at me, her expression perplexed. “It’s just so hard to wrap my head around. Especially because the mom and dad…hell, even Simon, seemed so…well, normal.”
“Yeah.” I frowned. It was tough to swallow. “But there is one bright side: if there really is evidence out there, and we can find it, we’ll have a good shot at nailing Lilah for not only Simon’s murder but the hit-and-run too.”
It was the only positive note I could find, but Bailey didn’t look all that cheered.
I stared out the window. Something about what I’d just said tickled the back of my mind. Frustrated, I struggled to grab ahold of it. Simon…his murder…the evidence.…It was there somewhere. I began to think out loud.
“Simon winds up on that sidewalk at the same time as Lilah. Too weird to be a coincidence.”
“There had to be a reason,” Bailey agreed.
“On the videotape, it looks like Simon was there to attack Lilah. And he was armed and ready. But how could he know she’d be there at exactly that time?”
She sat up and frowned. “They’d planned to meet?”
I shrugged. “Maybe.” I paused. Suddenly the thought that had been circling just out of reach floated up to the surface. I stare
d straight ahead, mentally probing for the flaw as I pursued my new theory with a question. “And if that’s true, what’s the one thing Simon might’ve had that could make Lilah want to meet him?”
“The evidence,” she said softly.
We exchanged a long look.
“If we’re right that Zack hid the evidence of her hit-and-run, and Simon found out about it, that’d give Simon one hell of a great way to lure her out, wouldn’t it?” I asked.
Bailey nodded. “Explains why, after disappearing once, she ended up on that sidewalk with him,” she said. “But, as I recall, Simon didn’t have anything on him and the surveillance footage shows the stabber didn’t take anything off him.”
“Simon didn’t bring it. He wasn’t completely crazy. But his murder proves that the evidence is still out there. Or, at least, that Lilah believes it is.”
Bailey stared out the window. “And the only reason she would’ve had to believe that is because Zack told her so.”
“Which he would have done in order to use it as blackmail. The evidence must still be out there. It’s the only explanation that answers all the questions: how Zack and Lilah met, how they wound up married, maybe why she killed Zack, and why Lilah was just feet away when Simon got stabbed to death.”
Bailey drove us back to the Biltmore. Though she was in no mood for fun, she had a date with Drew and didn’t want to cancel at the last minute.
With a solid working theory in place, I was too keyed up to stop, so I holed up in my room and spread out the crime scene photographs of Tran Lee.
I’d looked through the autopsy report again, hoping to find some anomalous injuries—evidence of antemortem blunt force trauma that couldn’t be explained by the car crash. But the body had been out in the elements for two weeks. Between decomposition and animal and insect invasion, there wasn’t much left to work with. The coroner couldn’t do any better than say what was already obvious: Tran had died due to blunt force trauma. Not helpful.
I noticed that one photograph showed an officer pointing to a key in the ignition of the car. So it hadn’t been hot-wired. I got excited for a moment. That could be proof the car hadn’t been stolen. But then I remembered that Conrad Bagram claimed the car was stolen off his lot. He probably told the cops he kept the keys in the cars, or had a Hide-A-Key stashed in the wheel well. It might even be true, but I made a mental note to check anyway.