by Marcia Clark
“And pretend he didn’t know so he’d have a cover for killing Bryan?” I nodded. Alex glanced at his iPad. “Not that I’ve seen so far. But he does have kind of a murky past.”
Interesting. “How so?”
He scrolled upward on the screen. “If I have the right guy, he used to go by the name Tanner Gormansky. No legal name change, so I’m not a hundred percent sure. But the photos match up pretty well. And when he was still Tanner Gormansky, he worked at a stock brokerage house in Delaware for about a year and a half.”
The name change was a little odd, but otherwise it didn’t seem all that murky to me. “Anything else?”
Alex peered at the screen. “I think he might’ve gotten fired. I called the human resources department—”
I smiled. “Who’d you pretend to be?” No one could social engineer his way into confidential files like Alex.
He looked up with a little smirk. “A very bored managerial assistant at Coldwell Banker, doing a security clearance check on our boy Tanner, who’d applied for the position of commercial accounts manager.”
Not too much. Just elaborate enough to sound legit. “Nice. How much did you squeeze out of them?”
He gave a slight shake of the head. “Not as much as I’d hoped for. When I asked whether she’d recommend him for the job, she just said all she could do was confirm he’d worked there. I said a year and a half wasn’t that long—that it seemed to me like something must’ve gone wrong. She said, ‘Let’s just say no one sweated his departure.’”
Vague, but clearly something had gone wrong. “So he might’ve gotten fired.”
Alex shrugged. “Or he might’ve quit.”
“Hopefully Dale will come through.” I told him about the conversation we’d just had.
Alex stood up. “Good. I’ll keep at it, but let me know when you hear back.”
I said I would, and Alex went back to his office. In deference to Michy’s desire for Manolos, I dived into my billing sheets. There was no part of my gig I hated more, so this truly was an act of love. And—I had to admit—necessity.
At four o’clock, I’d just finished and was thinking I might just pack it in for the day when Michy buzzed me and said Dale was on the line.
“Thanks, Michy.” I picked up, thinking he must have information on Tanner. “What’ve you got?”
I didn’t hear the usual hum of activity in the background on Dale’s end. Either he’d gone home to make the call or everyone else had left for the day. Still, he kept his voice low. “I shouldn’t be telling you this. So whatever you decide to do after you hear it, you’ve got to cover me.”
What the . . . ? Whatever it was, it wasn’t good. I didn’t want to hear it, but I had to. “I’ll cover you. Tell me.”
He spoke rapidly. “The coroner just filled me in on cause of death. It’s a homicide all right, but I’ve never heard anything like it. He said Bryan Posner died of internal decapitation—”
I jerked up in my seat. “What the hell is that?”
Dale lowered his voice even more. “It’s a super-rare injury. Happens when there’s a blow to the head or neck that’s heavy enough to sever the ligaments that attach the skull to the spine. Coroner said he’s only seen it once before, when a six-year-old boy died in a car crash. I guess those ligaments are softer in a young kid.”
But Bryan wasn’t a child, and he clearly hadn’t been in a car accident. “So how could he have gotten an injury like that?”
Dale took a deep breath. “The coroner didn’t know. He had to look that up. Apparently, it’s a kill method known to some martial artists. Takes strength and skill. According to the coroner, more skill than strength.” He paused. “I’m not officially assigned to the case, but I know the detective who is. Doug Kingsford. He’s good. Really good. It’ll take him about ten seconds to put it together—if he hasn’t already.”
My heart was pounding so hard, I could barely catch my breath. A skilled martial artist. Like Niko. No doubt he had the skill. And he definitely had the motive. Because of Bryan, Niko’s mother was on life support. One ray of hope dawned. “Did the coroner say when Bryan was killed?” Niko and I had been together almost continuously for days.
“On the sixteenth. Based on stomach contents, sometime between five p.m. and midnight.”
The ray of hope died. The sixteenth was one of the only days Niko and I hadn’t been together.
I couldn’t believe it. Didn’t want to believe it.
But it all fit so well.
ELEVEN
I knew Dale assumed I’d head straight to Niko’s place to warn him that the cops were coming.
And he was right. I told Michy I had to go see Niko (though I didn’t tell her why) and flew out the door. As I headed for my car, I thought about whether I should let him talk to the cops.
As a general rule, I tell my clients to keep their mouths shut. I warn them that no matter how “nice” they are, those cops are not their friends. You wouldn’t think I’d need to tell them something this obvious, but you’d be wrong. For some reason, even a few of my repeat customers think if they just “explain” what really happened, the cops will say, “Thanks for clearing that up!” and let them go.
Niko was smarter than most of my clients—probably smart enough not to screw himself. Still, even smart people can say pretty dumb things. Especially if they’re amateurs. Which, as far as I knew, Niko was. But I’d be sitting right next to him the whole time, and if he had a solid alibi for Bryan’s murder, it’d be good to get him cleared as soon as possible. On the other hand, if he didn’t . . .
I’d just gotten into my car when my cell phone rang. It was Niko.
He spoke evenly, but there was an underlying tension in his voice. “Sam, the housekeeper just called and said that a couple of detectives are at the door. What’s going on? Did something happen?”
Shit! I tried to sound calm. “Where are you?”
His agitation was building. “In the car, almost home.”
I didn’t know whether they’d posted unis in the area to intercept Niko. But if they had, it wouldn’t look good if they saw him make a sudden U-turn. And I was afraid to tell Niko what I’d just learned about Bryan’s murder. I didn’t know how he’d react, and I had no time to coach him. Right now, I just needed to keep him from talking until I got there. “Okay, then go home. Be nice, but do not let them pressure you into saying one fucking word. Tell them you’d like to wait for your lawyer. Got it?”
Niko’s voice was tight. “Got it.”
“I’m on my way.” As I pulled out of the garage, I wondered whether Niko had killed Bryan. True, he’d sounded genuinely confused, but I wasn’t sure whether that was real or whether he was just a much better actor than I knew.
I made it to Niko’s house in just twelve minutes, but when I walked in, I saw it was already too late. Niko was seated on the couch across from two detectives, and they were deep in conversation. A mini recorder was on the coffee table. The red light showed it was turned on. He’d completely ignored my advice. Damn. After all the stories I’d told Niko about the clients who’d sunk themselves by talking to the cops, you’d think he’d have listened to me. And to make matters worse, I saw that there was a small plastic vial with a long Q-tip inside it on the coffee table. The detectives had already managed to get Niko to give them a buccal swab for his DNA.
As I walked into the living room, the bigger of the two detectives stood and put out his hand. “I assume you’re the lawyer, Samantha Brinkman?”
He had short, sandy-colored hair and brown eyes, and he was tall, over six feet. His body was a solid—but not fat—rectangle. His hand engulfed mine as we shook. “I am. And you are?”
He fixed me with a direct look. “Doug Kingsford.” He nodded to the other detective, who was bald and seemed to be a lot shorter and thinner. I couldn’t tell how much shorter or thinner because he didn’t stand. “My partner, Dan O’Malley.”
Dan briefly looked up and gave me a curt nod as
I joined them on the couch. I wasn’t happy, and I didn’t mind letting it be known. “Before you go any further, I’d like to have a private word with my client.”
Niko held up a hand. “It’s okay, Sam. They told me about Bryan, and I have nothing to hide. I already told them everything I know.”
I turned to Kingsford. “What about Bryan?” I had to pretend I didn’t already know the cause of death.
O’Malley threw an openly suspicious glance at Niko as he answered. “Internal decapitation—a pretty rare martial arts move.”
This was not good. The last thing Niko should be doing was letting them question him about it. But I had no choice. Now I had to go along with the program. “And what exactly did you tell them?”
His expression was earnest, open. “That I had nothing to do with Bryan’s murder.”
Kingsford looked from Niko to me. “He said Tanner and some of the investors took martial arts classes from him.”
Niko nodded. “That’s how they found out about Gold Strike. They were my students.”
I tried to act blasé, though I was anything but. “So you taught the technique? Internal decapitation?” If he said yes, it would probably hurt as much as it helped. But there was no avoiding the subject. If the cops hadn’t already asked, they would in the next few seconds.
Niko either didn’t realize how damning his answer might be or knew better than to show he did. He answered calmly. “No. I’ve heard of it, but I don’t know it, and I don’t teach it.” He added, “But I’m obviously not the only martial arts teacher in town . . .”
So Tanner or one of the investors could’ve learned it from someone else. But now, Kingsford and O’Malley would question all the investors who’d studied with Niko. If anyone said Niko had shown or taught that move, it’d be a serious nail in Niko’s legal coffin.
Kingsford sat back and crossed his legs guy-style, his right foot resting on his left knee. A deliberately casual pose intended to get Niko to drop his guard. “But wouldn’t someone have to be a pretty advanced student to kill Bryan that way?”
Niko started to open his mouth to answer. I wanted to clap my hand over it, but I opted for the more subtle approach and just cut him off. “Not necessarily. I mean, how much of a master would a person have to be to get the jump on Bryan?”
Niko nodded. “That’s true. Bryan wasn’t in great shape.”
I added, “And he’d been drinking. Besides, how complicated is this move?”
Niko paused a moment. “From what I remember, not very.”
Dan—definitely the less polished member of the team—leaned forward. “You mind going over your timeline for that evening with us again? I just want to make sure we’ve got it straight.”
Bullshit. He was looking for inconsistencies. I gave good old Dan an insincere smile. “He’s obviously already gone over it with you, so you guys can just run with what you’ve got.”
Dan was visibly irritated, but Kingsford returned my insincere smile with one of his own. He was smart—and smooth. This was not what I liked to see in a detective. I like my cops ham-fisted, slow-witted, and short-tempered. Kind of like Dan—at least from what I could tell so far.
But I got stymied again, as Niko came to their rescue. Damn him. He put his hands on his knees and stared at the mantel above the fireplace as he recounted his movements on the night of the murder. “I went to see Tanner around seven thirty that night. We brainstormed about what kinds of investments might help people recoup at least some of their money within the next year or so. I left his house around nine thirty, then checked in on my mother. Got home around ten thirty or eleven.”
According to Dale, the coroner had put Bryan’s time of death between five p.m. and midnight. But I knew Bryan’s mother had said she’d called him at nine thirty and that he hadn’t answered, which was well within that window. So Niko’s timeline put him in the clear. Assuming it was true.
Kingsford stretched an arm across the back of the couch—just a chill bro talking to his homie. “Hey, maybe we should get ahold of Tanner. See if he’ll back you up.”
Niko gave a brief nod. “He will.”
“Why don’t you try him now?” Kingsford—the ever-helpful cop—suggested.
What an asshole. But a very friggin’ smart asshole. This put Niko on the spot. He couldn’t refuse to make the call without looking guilty. Time to give him some cover. I held up a hand. “He doesn’t need to do this right now.”
But of course, the ever-helpful Niko thwarted me again. “I don’t mind.” I wanted to throttle him as he pulled his cell phone out of his pocket.
He touched a key, and Tanner’s name popped up on the screen. After a few seconds, he frowned. Then, in an impatient tone, he said, “Hey, man, it’s Niko. Hit me up when you get this. Thanks.” Niko slid his phone back into his pocket. “I’ll tell him to get in touch with you guys when he calls. I know he’ll back me up.”
My heart—which had been beating so fast I could hardly breathe—slowed to a livable pace. Not that I doubted Niko’s innocence. Well, I guess I kind of did. But it was nothing personal. I’m suspicious of everyone. Regardless, I definitely didn’t share Niko’s faith in Tanner. Who knew what might come out of that little punk’s mouth?
It was time to put an end to this tea party. I stood and held out my hand to Kingsford. “It’s been a pleasure, Detective.” My tight smile said I was lying—and I could tell he knew it.
Not that he cared. He stood and shook my hand with pressed lips. “Actually, I was thinking maybe Niko wouldn’t mind taking us to Tanner’s office. See if he’s hiding out there. We all know Tanner’s got some pretty pissed-off investors on his tail.”
I knew Kingsford was just trying to make sure he was on the scene when Niko asked him to confirm his alibi, so he could see for himself how Tanner reacted before Niko had a chance to try and program his response.
I was about to tell Kingsford he could go by himself. But if Tanner was there, that would leave him alone with the detectives. I didn’t want to risk that. And now that I thought about it, I realized I could make this work to my advantage. “I’m good with that. In fact, I’ll join you.”
Dan gave me an icy glare and started to shake his head. But Niko—finally—got with the program. “I’ll only go if Sam can come.”
Kingsford shrugged. “Okay by me. You can ride with us.”
I wanted to talk to Niko alone on the way there, maybe strategize how to handle it if Tanner didn’t back up his alibi—and Kingsford knew it. He was heading me off at the pass. His constant one-upmanship moves were getting on my nerves. “That’s okay. I’ve got my car—”
But Niko was already heading for the door. “Thanks. Probably safer to go with you guys, what with all those angry investors floating around.”
Damn it. Niko was turning out to be one of the biggest pain-in-the-ass clients ever.
But before I could say another word, he was out the door, with the detectives right behind him. I slung my purse on my shoulder and vowed to have a serious talk with Niko about who calls the shots when cops come knocking.
TWELVE
When we got to the swanky building that housed the Gold Strike offices, I pretended to be seeing it for the first time and prayed Niko would know better than to let on that he’d been there recently. The cops would be coming to search this place any minute, and when they did, they’d find out someone had broken into Bryan’s safe. I didn’t need to give Kingsford any ideas that that someone might’ve been Niko—or me.
The building manager let us in. No lights were on, so the reception area was relatively dark. Niko pointed out Tanner’s office. The door was locked. I didn’t remember seeing Tanner lock it when we’d left, but I supposed he must have. Kingsford asked the manager to open the door. I folded my arms. “Excuse me? Aren’t we forgetting a little something called a search warrant?”
Without a second’s hesitation, he responded, “Exigent circumstances. We’re concerned for his safety. For all we know,
he could be lying there in a pool of blood.”
I wasn’t sure that’d fly with a judge, but truth be told, I didn’t really care. Tanner wasn’t my client, and I was sure there wouldn’t be anything that incriminated Niko in his office. I shrugged. “Whatever. Your funeral.”
Kingsford nodded to the manager, who sifted through his ring of keys and unlocked the door. It was a sunny day, and the floor-to-ceiling windows let in plenty of light. Nothing looked out of place. If anything, Tanner’s formerly messy desk looked a little neater, like he’d cleared off some of the Post-its and notepads.
Kingsford and O’Malley took a long look around the office, then peered under the desk and checked out the bathroom. I had no doubt they’d have gone through the desk and maybe even tried to get into Tanner’s computer if I hadn’t been there. But I was, and now that it was clear there were no dead or dying bodies, there was no legitimate reason to search without a warrant. Kingsford thanked the building manager, told him to lock up, and we headed out.
But Kingsford wasn’t giving up. When we got back in the car, he said, “I have a bad feeling about this. I think we should head over to Tanner’s place.”
I was stuck. If I objected, they’d just go by themselves, and if Tanner was home, I wanted to be there. I snapped on my seat belt. “Sounds like a plan.”
Niko gave the directions to Tanner’s condo, which was in one of those high-end forty-story buildings on Wilshire Boulevard, just five minutes from the office. Kingsford badged the doorman, who nodded at Niko and gave me a curious glance. He called the supervisor, a fluttery woman with wild red hair, and she accompanied us up to the thirty-fifth floor.
The hallway was wide with high ceilings, and the thick carpeting muffled our footsteps as we approached his door. Tanner’s condo was the last one on the left. I scanned the doorway but saw no evidence of forced entry. Kingsford gestured for Niko to do the honors. “I think he’ll be more likely to open up if he hears a friendly voice on the other side.”
Niko gave a brief nod and pushed the doorbell that was on the wall to the right. We heard the ding-dong loud and clear. But then, nothing. I leaned in as Niko rang it again, listening for any rustling or footsteps—any sound that someone was there. Silence.
