"Pardon me, miss."
"You scared the hell out of me; how did you get up here; who are you?" she blurts out without taking a breath.
I show her my badge. "I noticed you didn't unlock your door, and Jacobs' door was ajar."
After catching her breath, she says, "Yes, we leave our doors open, just in case I need something from him or he wants to borrow something of mine. We've been neighbors since the building was built. I trust him implicitly, as he does me," she says with a flashing smile. "What are you looking for?"
"We just came by to speak with him. Do you know where he might be?" I look her straight in the eye.
"More than likely he's at his studio."
"At this hour?"
"Well, he is very seldom here; I think he just uses it to shower and change clothes. He used to be over to Ms. Wrights place all of the time, but since her death. Oh, I feel so sorry for him. You know, he wasn't here when she was killed. He was doing a shoot in Hawaii."
"So I've been told," as I glance her way to see if she believes what she said to me or was told to say that if ever asked.
The elevator bell rings again, Jacobs steps out and heads to his apartment.
Upon entering, he sees Sharon looking through items on his coffee table. "Hey, lady, what the hell are you doing here? I'm going to kill you, you bitch!" He heads towards her.
Jacobs grabs her around the neck and attempts to strangle Sharon. She raises her right hand with a sharp blow to his nose with the base of her hand. His hold is broken, and he stumbles back. As he regains his poise, he attacks her again. He again tries to strangle her, just as she does a spring hip throw, tossing him over her back onto the floor. He hits his head on the marble floor.
"Not this time, asshole," Sharon says as she turns him over onto his stomach and pulls out her handcuffs and cuffs him.
I enter through the door just in time to see her getting her revenge.
"That felt good, Mike." She looks up while she has a knee on the back of his lower spine.
"Let's get him downtown," I mention, all the while thinking, "I'm glad that wasn't me."
Sharon reads him his rights as she helps him to his feet.
Chapter 28
As we put Jacobs into a holding cell, I am told Mr. Tan just came in to identify his wife. I walk in just as Susan tells him something and pulls back the sheet covering her face.
"That's her. That's Gracie." He looks down at her. At his side stands a tall young Scandinavian blonde woman who, when the sheet was pulled back, shrieks and turns away, clutching his suit jacket. "That's all right, honey." He takes his right hand and pats her on the back. "I just needed to come down here to verify that it was her. "They head for the door. "Let's get out of here."
"When do you want to claim the body?" Susan asks since she is through with the examination of the body.
"I'll send someone to pick up the body tomorrow," he answers as if being bothered with the task.
"Hold on; I need to talk to you."
"I don't have anything to say. If you need to know something, ask my attorney." He continues to leave the morgue, almost dragging the girl.
"I'll be by to see you later."
"Don't bother." He pushes the button for the elevator. "I'm not planning on being in town very long."
Following him out the door, I say, "Don't leave town," raising my voice before the elevator doors close.
Mr. Tan says something. I didn't get to hear exactly what he says, but I get the gist of it.
As I enter back into the morgue, Susan's and my eyes meet.
"Boy, that man is a cold-hearted son of a bitch," she says intensely. "I've had dozens, and dozens of people come down here to review the remains of their loved ones. I've had ones that can't stop crying, had ones that wail with grief, had some pass out on the floor and pee in their pants. But I have never, never, never seen anyone be so callous, so damn cold concerning his wife."
With her being so uptight and out of sorts, I decide it's best to leave and head back upstairs to my office.
Chapter 29
In the interrogation room, Sharon and I have John brought in.
"John, you're in big trouble," I mention even before he takes a seat.
"Why? I haven't done anything wrong," he snaps back.
"Oh, you have. You attacked a police officer. You tried to choke her."
"I didn't know she was police. How was I supposed to know? All I know is when I walked into my apartment, I found a woman I don't know, breaking into my home."
"You should have recognized her from the other night." I look straight into his eyes.
"What are you saying?" He squirms in the chair. "Can I have something to drink? My throat is kind of dry."
Sharon goes out and brings him a glass of water.
"What happened to your hands?"
"I hurt them." He looks down at his knuckles, "When I was protecting my apartment from her." He turns around and nods towards Susan.
"No. At the apartment, you tried to strangle her. At the mansion, you hit her with your fist." I shake my head.
"What mansion?" he tries to reply, as his head and eyes move down to the table.
"Look, we know you were there, we know you hit the lieutenant. We also know you flew back into L.A. the night before Michelle was murdered," I say as I try to surprise him and see what his reaction would be.
A look of surprise falls over his face. His head falls again.
I am waiting for something to incriminate him.
Just as his eyes come back up, he looks like he is about to spill his guts.
"Hello, Mike." Bill Morrison walks through the door. "Don't say another word, John, I'm your attorney."
Bill Morrison, one of the state's most influential lawyers. He only handles money, huge money, old money, significant money. Bill is a very unimpressive man. Short, slender, wire rim glasses, has just wisps of hair which he combs over his bald head. If you bump into him on the street, besides probably knocking him over, you won't give him a second look. But he knows his law. He knows how to make money and keep the money for his client families. He knows tax laws, offshore accounts, even European banking laws, but he wasn't a defense attorney.
I think, How can John afford him? John has money, but not that kind of money."
Then it dawns on me; Mark Jacobson has that kind of funding. He must have been the one to send in Mr. Morrison. I rule out Mr. Tan right away. He has more than enough, but it didn't strike me he would waste his time with John. Besides, Mark and John were the best of friends.
"John, come on, you're out of here." Bill motions for John to get up. "Mike, I'll have those papers for you in a week," he says, as he and his client walk out the door.
"Good; that will be just in time." I pat him on his shoulder as he passes by. Yes, Bill is also my attorney. He has handled my accounts since I moved to L.A. after arresting and sending to prison one of his clients. It wasn’t his work that caused the slime bag to go to jail; he just shot his wife and two children in cold blood, because he wanted to start over with some blonde bimbo. What a waste of life.
Chapter 30
"Well, Sharon, you know where we have to go back to?" I look over to her. She is leaning against the glass with her arms folded, eyes down towards the floor, with a disgusted look on her face.
"Mike, I felt he was going to tell us. At least tell us something more than what we have."
"I did, too. Right now, it's all speculation. We're pretty sure he was the one in Grace's home who hit you. We also know he flew back the night before Ms. Borne was murdered and he doesn't have an alibi for the time of Ms. Wright's death.” I respond to her statement.
"I'll meet you out front in five minutes."
I carefully pick up the glass which he was drinking out of with my handkerchief and place it into a plastic bag. "Here, Paul; get this to Susan and see if this matches the palm print she got off the dress." I hand the bag to him.
They drive up to Mark's and pull
around past the fountain and park on the left side of the driveway.
Mark comes out to greet us. "Good to see you again, Detective." He reaches to shake my hand.
"We’re not here for chit-chat, and, no, I don't want my car washed while I'm here." I glance over to where the same two were washing several cars again. While we follow him up the steps and through the front doors, out of the corner of my eye, I see John Jacobs slipping by on the other side of the garage.
"Come on in. Can Martha get you anything to drink? Martha, please get me a scotch and water. What's for you?" He looks over to Sharon.
"Nothing for me; I'm the designated driver," she answers back with a smirk. "And besides, I'm on duty."
“I'll have a beer." I sit on a chair on the veranda, as Sharon and Mark walk outside by the pool.
"Martha, get Mr. Kane a Primo." He raises his voice a bit so she can hear him.
"Primo? You surprise me."
"I figured you would be coming back, so I made sure I had on hand your favorite beer."
"Do you always do your homework so well?" I ask as Martha brings me my drink.
"Sir, would you like a frosted glass?" she asks, handing me just the bottle.
"No, thank you, this will be just fine.” I look up at her as she places the beer on a coaster on the table in front of me. "Martha, you work here also?"
"Yes, as you can plainly see."
"Now, down to business." I take a short drink and looking back at Martha as she walks off. "Did you have Bill Morrison attained for John Jacobs?" I look straight at him.
"Sure, I did. As soon as I found out, you had arrested him."
"That was nice of you, but why? why Mr. Morrison?"
"I knew he was downtown, so I called him up and asked if he would stop by and take care of it."
"Have you spoken with Mr. Morrison since then?"
"Didn't he just leave your place? And no, I haven't spoken to Bill since I asked him to bail him out." He takes another sip of scotch.
"What can you tell me about Mr. Jacobs?"
"What do you want to know?" He turns towards Martha and raises his glass as if to show he is ready for a refill.
"How long have you known each other?"
"Since childhood. He and I went through grade school and high school together. He and I had some classes together and were on the football team. We became friends." He reaches for his refill from Martha.
"Anyone else, besides you two?" I ask, already knowing the answer.
"I thought you were here asking about John Jacobs." He looks over to me with an uncaring glance.
"I am. Tell me about him and Patricia Wright. How long were they together?"
"They were together for several years, just up until about two months ago."
"Oh, they broke up?" I ask as if surprised.
"Yes, but I thought you already knew. He was broken up and mad as hell about it. You know, he feels he made her into a star. Without his photos being published all over the place and into several magazines, she would have been nothing," he adds.
"What was the reason they broke up?" I ask.
"She told him she didn't need him anymore."
"But her home, she had a lot of money, she was pretty well off, wasn't she?" I ask.
"She didn't have any money of her own. Sure she made several million through her movies, but her home, bank account, and the big money came from her first husband, who died rather unexpectedly. I think he was in oil."
"So why was she with John?"
"She said he was great in bed," he says with a chuckle looking up towards Sharon.
"Why the photos and all the publicity for her becoming a movie star?"
"In case you didn't know, she liked herself. No, she loved herself. She was self-absorbed with herself. That was the primary reason she sought out and chased John. She figured if she could get a well-known photographer like him, then she would have a shoe in. And it worked; she got famous because of him, then she decided she didn’t need him anymore. I think it was pretty miserable for her to do that to my best friend," he said, not even breathing hard.
"Now that I'm back here, where were you on the night of Patricia Wright's death?" I ask, hoping to catch him off guard.
"Now that you asked, do I need to have Bill here?" he throws back to me with a shit ass smile.
"Only if you feel you will need him," I respond.
"No, I don't need him, as I don't have anything to hide. I was here at home, just as I was the night Michelle was killed, and just as I was when Gracie Tan was too," he again adds, with another shitty ass grin, which I felt like knocking off, just to get him off his "I'm smarter than you are."
I get up, and Sharon follows. "Like I said before, I may need to come back to ask you more questions. Oh, by the way, how long has Martha been working for you?"
"She's been here all my life, ever since I can remember. Why?"
"No reason, just asking."
After we get into the car, I say, "Why didn't you ask any questions?"
"I can't stand that high and mighty, pious son of a bitch. Call it woman's intuition, but that man is guilty as sin. Guilty of something to do with this case," she said firmly. "I wouldn't even be surprised if he were the mastermind behind all of this."
I nod in agreement with her assessment. "Now all we have to do is prove it."
Chapter 31
After Sharon and I leave, Mark notices that we are through the gate, he receives a call. After a short time on the phone, he calls out. "John, I know you're here. Get your sorry ass out here."
"Yes, I'm here. I was listening to what you were telling them." He steps out from the hallway.
Just then the doorbell chimes. Martha answers the door and David enters.
"Sorry, I'm late. Traffic took a while." He walks down the steps and out onto the veranda. He walks behind the bar and uses the tap to pour himself a cold beer.
"I was just going to ask John some questions," Mark informs David. "Bring me another scotch and water, would you, Martha?"
David takes a chair, after handing the drink to Mark which Martha has passed on to him.
"I found out something kind of interesting, John." Mark looks straight at him. "What name did you use when you caught the flight from Honolulu to Portland?"
"I didn't use my real name." He feels the stare going right through him.
"Did you use Jacob Johns?"
"Yes. But you got to understand, when I got up to the ticket counter, I was asked what my name was. I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking. I said John but then caught myself. I just threw out Jacob, Jacob Johns," he answers in an apologetic manner.
"How could you be so stupid, using your name in reverse? God, I thought you knew better than that. Again, do I have to do everything around here?" He raises his voice, along with his blood pressure. "And you attacked a police officer—what in the hell were you thinking?"
"I didn't know she was a police officer." He looks away from the still-staring eyes of Mark.
"Don't give me that bullshit. She's the same woman you hit the night before, and I know you knew who she was in your apartment. And they're the same ones who picked you up at the airport," he says as his blood pressure jumps up ten more points. "What am I supposed to do with you? Every time you fuck up, I have to bail you out and clean up your damn mess. I've been doing this for years, and I'll tell you this, I'm getting very tired of it."
"Take it easy, Mark," David tries to butt in. "That Hawaiian doesn't have any evidence, and he doesn't know anything."
"I told you before; we can't let our guard down. He is not stupid. His team has already found out things on that dumb shit." As he points at John. "Go take a shower and clean up in the pool house. I can smell you from here."
John gets up from his chair, walks around the pool, and heads towards the pool house. As he enters, Mark looks at David and nods his head, indicating that they are both in agreement.
David waits awhile, mainly finishing his drink, but also waiti
ng for John to get into the shower. He takes a seat by the pool, waiting for time to pass.
As time goes by, the music is on but is turned down low. A figure slowly and quietly moves toward the shower curtain, pulls out a 9 mm pistol as the silhouette of John washing his hair with the light comes through the window. The curtain is moved ever so slightly, and with careful aim, the trigger is pulled, right at the base of the neck on the back of the head. John's brains spray up to the ceiling as well as to all surfaces of the white ceramic shower walls. The red blood and water mix as it swirls down the drain as the curtain is pulled back all the way.
David gets up, heads around the swimming pool. As he gets closer to the back of the pool house, he hears the shower through the open window which is cracked a bit to let the steam from a hot shower out. The walls drip red even after the water is turned off. As he enters the pool house, he says, "Holy shit, I have some cleaning to do."
Chapter 32
Joel Trajan waits until what he thinks might be a decent time to make the call. “Stephen, are you awake?” he asks, with a muffled response coming from the other end as if it wasn’t quite the time to call.
“Well, I am now. What do you want?”
“Just got a call from Julius Sharp, he told me they have five episodes ready for reading.
“Five, that’s great. Did they say when they want to start shooting?” He thinks back on the number of episodes which have been written.
“He wants you there to look over the scripts. I guess they followed a lot of your ideas.”
“Of course they went with my ideas, but I should have been there, directing the scripts,” he says with a pompous tone.
“Well, I’m sure you can offer changes once you’re there,” Joel adds to his client's high opinion of himself.
“I’ll get dressed and be down there in about two and half hours.”
Several hours later, Stephen walks back into Fox studio. Joel is there, watching the news in the waiting room, waiting for Stephen to arrive. “Have you been listening to the news? Joel asks in a hurried tone.
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