Snap Judgment (Samantha Brinkman Book 3)

by Marcia Clark

  With good reason. I hate paper cases. They can pay great money because defendants who’re charged with fraud are sometimes bank presidents and CEOs. But they are booorrrrinnng. I mean truly deadly. I smiled and shrugged. “Not saying it’ll work, but it’s worth looking into.” I told her I needed Brad to wrangle me an invitation to the Westerly office party.

  Her tone was sarcastic, but it had a touch of admiration. “Well, look at that. Our little girl is all grown up.” She picked up her cell phone and typed in a text. “If Brad’s not buried or getting reamed by a partner, he’ll get back to me fast.”

  I thanked her and went to Alex’s office. His door was closed. “It’s the TSA. Your Precheck status has been revoked for stealing that box of Thin Mints back in 2010. Open up.”

  His voice came through the door. “I’m not here. Try back later.”

  I opened the door. Alex glared at me over the top of his monitor. I waved. “Just trying to inject a little humor into your day.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Emphasis on little. They just keep getting worse.”

  “I feel bad for you that you don’t appreciate my whimsical stylings.” I told him what Dale had said about the coroner’s finding of OxyContin in Alicia’s blood sample. “It’s been ruled out as the cause of death, but we should follow up and see where it takes us. See if you can set us up to talk to Nomie today.”

  Alex picked up his cell phone. “What about the others?”

  The way they’d talked about Alicia gave me the impression they didn’t know. I hadn’t necessarily gotten the impression that Nomie did, either, but if anyone knew, it’d be her. “Let’s stick with Nomie for now. We can branch out later depending on what she says.”

  On my way back to my office, Michy held up a victory sign. “Brad says no problem, he knows a paralegal at Westerly who owes him a favor. I’ll get it from him when I see him tonight.”

  I went over and gave her a fist bump. “You’re the best, Michy.”

  “True. So score us some clients with actual bank accounts.”

  I smiled to hide the wave of guilt. “Will do. And congratulations on getting back together with Brad.”

  Michy sighed. “Yeah, whatever.”

  But as I sat down at my desk, I thought, Why not offer up my services while I’m at it? There was no reason I couldn’t use the party to get close to Diego and try to score a source for some white-collar work. It didn’t have to be a complete lie. Feeling better, I went back to my sentencing memo.

  Half an hour later, Alex came in. “Nomie can meet us at Lemonade in an hour.”

  I looked at my skull clock—a gift from Michy for my last birthday. The little hand was on the upper edge of the rictus smile. It was almost four o’clock. Traffic was going to be awful. “We’d better get going.”

  I packed up, threw on my coat and scarf, and stopped at Michy’s desk. “We probably won’t be back, so have fun with Brad tonight.” I let Alex move past me toward the door and whispered, “Feel free to give him a little something extra for his help.”

  Alex turned back and sighed. “I totally heard that, and you are a pig.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Oh please, Mary Poppins.”

  We headed out, and Alex let me drive Beulah because it was getting dark and we were headed back to USC. Alex had his head buried in his iPad, so I tuned the radio to a jazz station to keep myself awake as I navigated the freeway.

  At three minutes to five, I pulled into a parking space near Trousdale Parkway. Lemonade is a California cuisine cafeteria-style place. I hadn’t known that Nomie worked there, but as we entered, I saw that she was behind the counter and in the process of taking off her apron. I waved to her and pointed to a table next to the window. She nodded to me then spoke to the man next to her.

  We sat down at the table. I asked, “You hungry?”

  Alex looked at the counter where the dishes were laid out. “Kind of, yeah. I think I’ll have the vegetarian chili.”

  I’d been eyeing the mashed potatoes, but I knew I should probably do something equally as healthy. “Me, too.”

  Nomie came over, and I offered to buy her dinner, but she declined. “I’ve been serving the stuff for the past three hours. I can’t even look at it. But I’ll take a Coke.”

  Alex stood up. “I’ll go. Coke for you, too?” I nodded, and he went over to the counter.

  I leaned in. “I have something to tell you about Alicia. If you don’t already know, it might be upsetting, so I want you to be prepared.”

  She gave me a sad look. “Someone slashed her throat. I think I can probably handle anything you’re going to tell me.”

  That was fair. I told Nomie about the coroner’s finding of OxyContin in Alicia’s blood. “Did you ever know she did drugs?”

  Alex returned with our food and drink. The chili smelled delicious.

  Nomie put a straw into her Coke and sighed. “I saw her doing cocaine a couple of times. But both times were at a party, and people were passing it around.” She shrugged. “As far as I knew, she never had her own.” Nomie paused. “But about a month ago, I went with her to get mani-pedis—I only did the pedi—and she asked me to get her wallet out because her nails were still wet. I found some pills.”

  I guessed. “Oxy?”

  Nomie nodded. “That did worry me. I told her it was dangerous, but she said she only did it for fun once in a while. She wasn’t addicted or anything.”

  I took a sip of Coke. “Did you believe her?”

  She stared down at her drink for a moment before answering. “Yeah. Look, from what I heard, she had no peace her whole life. It was all about performing, winning, being the best, and that left almost no time for friends or boyfriends or anything normal. She had to be Ms. Perfect. So I guess what I’m saying is, I get it.”

  There’d been a lot of heat in those words. Something else was going on here. “Are you saying she was just a trophy for her parents?”

  Nomie played with the straw wrapper. “I’m not saying they didn’t love her. I’m just saying they didn’t realize what they were doing to her.”

  This was sounding awfully one-sided. Alicia was a part of the equation, too. Everyone seemed to be forgetting that. “Alicia could’ve told them they were being too hard on her, don’t you think?”

  She twisted the wrapper around her finger and gave a little shrug. “Maybe that was her problem. She didn’t want to disappoint them.” Nomie met my gaze. “Did her parents tell you she was a cutter?”

  I had to take a moment to absorb that. “No. Are you sure they knew?”

  She dropped her gaze to the table. “I thought they must have, but maybe not. Alicia said she was careful.”

  If this were true, there would be some mention of old scars in the coroner’s report, but since it wasn’t finalized yet, I hadn’t seen it. “Does anyone else know about it?” Nomie shook her head and pulled the straw wrapper off her finger. “Would you say you’re her closest friend?”

  “Probably. Whoever her friends were in high school, she didn’t seem to be missing them. Barely ever mentioned them.”

  But then again, she probably never had time for them. I had a hunch about Nomie, and I decided to play it. “You trusted her, too, didn’t you? With quite a bit, I’m guessing.”

  She glanced up at me, then her gaze slid over to Alex. After a beat she said, “Alicia was only the second person I’d ever come out to in my life. I was raised in a strict Baptist household in Fayetteville, Georgia. I knew if I told my folks, they’d make me come home and put me in some messed-up conversion therapy program.” She paused and bit her bottom lip. “But Alicia was totally cool. I could talk to her about it—about anything, really.” Nomie gazed out the window. “I know this is going to sound weird, but I think part of the reason she understood me so well was because she was always afraid of disappointing her parents, too.”

  That made perfect sense to me. “Did you come out to the others after you told Alicia?”

  Nomie’s gaze drifted
off to the right, and a little smile played on her lips. Her smile seemed to echo a memory. “Alicia told me not to worry, that they wouldn’t care—and they’d keep it on the down low. So I told them. And she was right.” She looked at me. “Coming from where I did, it took me a little while to believe that people really might be able to accept me for who I am.”

  Alex gave her a look of sympathy. “I’m here to tell you, they will. Trust me.”

  Nomie looked at him with surprise, then back at me. I nodded. “Yeah, he really does know. And you seem to have landed in a good group.”

  “Totally. They’re pretty dope.” But she wasn’t smiling anymore.

  I followed up on that sign. “Is there someone in the group who isn’t so dope?”

  “No, no. It’s just . . . I got the feeling Alicia was hiding something. I wondered if maybe that Italian cinema professor wasn’t the only other guy Alicia was seeing.”

  Another interesting wrinkle. But unlike the Oxy, this one might be helpful. “Are you thinking she might’ve been seeing Phil or Davey?”

  Nomie pushed her glass away. “No . . . I mean, she could’ve been. And maybe it wasn’t a guy. I just know she seemed to be going out at night when I knew she wasn’t with Roan or that professor.”

  I asked her to take a guess at who Alicia might’ve been seeing—or what she might’ve been doing, but Nomie couldn’t come up with anything. We’d have to find another way to check that out. After chatting for a few more minutes, we called it a day and walked Nomie out. “Want a ride back?”

  Nomie looked out the window at the darkening sky. “No, thanks. I need to walk.”

  I put a hand on her shoulder. “I’m truly sorry for your loss, Nomie. I can’t imagine how hard this must be for you.”

  Her eyes filled, and she blinked back the tears. “Thanks.”

  I watched her walk away, thinking about how much she’d lost when Alicia died.

  But at least she was living in a place that gave her a solid chance of finding a new family—one of her own choosing, that wouldn’t consider her flawed just because she was born different.

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  As we got back in the car, Alex said, “Don’t worry, even if her family doesn’t get on board, she really will be okay. I meant what I told her. She’ll find a lot of acceptance out here.”

  He should know. Alex, having been raised in a Hispanic family that was devoutly Catholic, didn’t dare come out to his family while he was living at home. He’d kept his sexuality a secret until he moved out and got a job. And even so, he’d only told his brother and sister. His mother still didn’t know. “You’re right. It’s just a bitch that she had to lose Alicia so soon. She’s a freshman. She’s only been here since August.”

  Alex shook his head. “It really is a bad break.”

  But nowhere near as bad as Alicia’s. We were silent for a few moments, and I mentally replayed our conversation with Nomie. She’d given us some new insights into Alicia. “Funny, I was—and wasn’t—surprised to hear she was a cutter.”

  He pulled out his cell phone. “Me, too. In a sad way, it really fits. I was just going to text Dale and ask when he thinks we’ll get the coroner’s report.”

  “Great idea.” I wasn’t sure what this new information would buy us, but I believe in turning over every stone. You never know when a juicy red herring will pop out from under one of them. “And we need to set up interviews with Phil and Davey. Separate ones.”

  Alex was typing on his phone. “On it. Tomorrow?”

  I remembered I had a party to go to that night. “Only if it can be early in the day. I’ve got a place to be later on.”

  Alex chuckled. “Yeah, I heard you setting it up with Michy. I thought you hated paper cases.”

  He knew from personal experience because I hadn’t wanted to take his case. The only thing more painful than a fraud case was a computer fraud case. “I do. But I figure I can have you do most of the legwork.” I glanced at him. He wasn’t laughing anymore. “Not so funny now, is it?” He loved searching for witnesses, digging up information, and being out in the field, but working a fraud case offered none of that kind of intrigue.

  Alex folded his arms and shot me a mock glare. “I—unlike some people I know—am able to put personal predilections aside in favor of expedience. In this case, money.”

  I glanced at him. “Yeah? Well, I guess we’re about to put that to the test.” Assuming I actually managed to dig up any clients.

  I dropped Alex off at his car and got home by eight o’clock. For some reason, I was super tired. And it was only Monday. I got into bed by nine thirty, knowing I was tempting fate. The earlier I went to bed, the more likely I was to have the nightmare. But I just couldn’t keep my eyes open.

  I couldn’t believe it when I woke up and saw that it was morning. Seven thirty in the morning to be precise, according to the clock on my nightstand. A major win. Winning is such a great way to start the day.

  I checked my phone for messages. Alex had texted me at ten o’clock last night. He’d set up a meeting for us with Phil at noon. Fantastic. Now if we could just catch him sober. Or maybe not. He might be more willing to spill if he’d had a little lubricant. Maybe I should score some weed to give him as a host gift.

  I texted the idea to Alex. He said he could handle it. Someone—maybe Paul?—must have access. I knew it wasn’t Alex. He hated the stuff even more than I did.

  I didn’t have any court appearances, and we wouldn’t leave for our meeting until eleven, so I’d planned to roll in by nine. But Beulah had other plans. She sputtered to a stop at the intersection of Sunset and Crescent Heights and refused to start again. Her favorite doctor—i.e., my mechanic—was just two miles away, but it took half an hour for AAA to get to me and another half hour to get Beulah into the station. By the time I got to the office, it was a quarter to eleven.

  Michy gave me a sad smile. I’d texted her about Beulah. “Sorry, Sam. That truly sucks. Don’t bite my head off, but it might be time . . .”

  I couldn’t even muster the juice to argue. “I know. I think I’m finally ready to cut the cord.” This time felt like the last straw. What if I’d had a court appearance? Or been in trial? I needed something reliable, and Beulah did not do “reliable.”

  “But I happen to have a bit of good news.” Michy held up a square piece of cream-colored cardboard. “Your invitation to the Westerly party.”

  “Excellent. Thanks so much, Michy.” I dropped my purse on her desk and took it. It was one of those expensive invitations, with a dark-green border and pretty cursive writing. I fanned myself with it. “Fancy. I hope you thanked Brad for me.”

  Michy smiled. “Oh, I did. Most definitely.”

  I gave her a thumbs-up. “Any wardrobe ideas for this shindig?”

  She leaned back in her chair and stared off. I knew she was picturing my closet. “That little black dress with the square neckline, and that imitation-diamond collar necklace.”

  I grimaced and shook my head. “The dress she gave me so I wouldn’t embarrass her in front of her country club ladies? Not only no, but hell no.” Celeste liked to throw parties and invite five hundred of her closest friends. On occasion—the occasion being when she needed me to entertain her buddies with the lurid details of my cases—she’d asked me to come. I don’t know why, but for years, I actually went to them. Then I got wise and started turning her down. Eventually, she stopped inviting me. And then, I stopped taking her calls. Michy cheered when I told her not to put Celeste’s calls through. She’d been telling me to cut Celeste off for years. And she was right. It’s been two years since we’ve spoken, and it feels great. I honestly don’t know why it took me so long. But I guess you get there when you get there.

  But Michy wasn’t having it. She folded her arms and gave me a stern look. “Screw her. It’s an original Diane von Furstenberg. Suck it up and wear it. It’ll give you class, and you need all the help you can get.”

  She was right. But damn. Al
ex emerged from his office and saved me from having to admit it out loud. “You ready to hit the road?” he asked.

  I took my purse off Michy’s desk and put the invitation inside. “We should be back here by five.”

  She frowned. “The party starts at six thirty, and you’ll have to go home and change after you drop Alex off.”

  I waved her away. “Piece of cake; I’ll make it.”

  Michy gave me a skeptical look. “Just in case, I’ll stop by your place at lunch and pick up your outfit so you can change here.”

  “Okay, thanks.” There was no point in arguing. She wasn’t really concerned about my getting to the party on time. A six-thirty invitation meant most people wouldn’t get there until seven thirty. This was just her way of making sure I wore what she’d picked out for me.

  Alex and I headed out, and he spent most of the ride giving me an earful about the dangers of driving a “useless hunk of metal” like Beulah. When he finally finished his rant, he waited for me to fire back. For a change, I said nothing. I was actually thinking Beulah might have pissed me off for the last time.

  I’d suggested meeting Phil at one of the cafés on campus so he’d be alone, but Alex thought he’d speak more freely at home. If he wasn’t alone, we could always offer to buy him lunch. Knowing him, he was bound to have the munchies. And in case he didn’t, Alex could stoke his fire with the great Chronic he’d scored. Then he’d have the munchies.

  I’d thought about whether we really needed to dig deeper into Alicia’s life. But ultimately, I’d decided I had no choice. Roan’s death had to be linked to Alicia’s murder somehow. And the only way to find a link, other than Graham, was to find someone who might have it in for both Alicia and Roan.

  From what I’d learned about Roan, the list of people who might want to kill him was probably lengthy. If he was still alive, Alex and I would probably be on it. There was no point in going to the trouble of sifting through that huge haystack when I could get the same answer by exploring the much narrower question of who might’ve wanted to kill Alicia. Once we identified her enemies, we could focus in on which one also had a motive to kill Roan.