by Marcia Clark
Vanderhorn didn’t even look at me. “I’m assigning Declan Shackner to act as second chair.”
I looked at Eric. Who was this?
“I’ll fill you in later,” he said. “Thanks, Bill. We’ll keep you posted.”
Vanderhorn gave us both a look of thunder. “Damn right you will. Every day.”
Oh, joy.
As we walked back to our wing of the floor, Eric gave me the skinny on Declan Shackner.
“Are you kidding me?” I sputtered under my breath as Eric and I walked into his office. “A baby Grade Two! What the hell good is he going to be to me? He’s probably never even done a preliminary hearing on a murder case, let alone a trial this big. What the hell is Vanderhorn thinking?”
Eric gestured for me to keep it down and closed the door, a world-weary expression on his face. “You don’t recognize the name?”
“No.”
“Shackner, as in Morton Shackner…as in Shackner Productions, one of the biggest independent production companies in the industry. And a good friend and frequent collaborator with—”
“Antonovich and Powers.”
Eric nodded. “That’s how Vanderhorn’s going to appease his Hollywood buddies. Total transparency. He’s so fair he’s putting one of their own on the case. Shows it’s all on the up-and-up.”
“So who cares if I get to have a real lawyer for second chair? As long as Vanderhorn looks good.”
“He is consistent.”
“So’s a doorstop.”
44
I stomped back to my office in what Toni would’ve called “a mood and a half.” What was I going to do with some dippy showbiz kid who probably only got hired because some management jerk wanted invites to premieres? Then it occurred to me that “useless” was the least of my problems. Vanderhorn didn’t just throw Declan Shackner in to be a Hollywood token. He intended for Declan to be his spy. This just got better and better.
I slammed the space bar on my keyboard and pulled up the forms to start the filing process. I decided to call Bailey and let her weigh in. She said she might as well come over and do it in person. “That way, you can be there when I negotiate with Powers’s lawyer to have him surrender,” she said.
“Who’s his lawyer?”
“Wagmeister—”
“I thought he was representing Averly.” He couldn’t ethically represent both Powers and Averly—the possibility for a conflict of interest was too great.
“I’d guess it’s just for the moment.”
“He’ll probably keep Powers and push Averly off on someone else.”
“And that someone else is probably already on deck. See you in ten.”
My stomach grumbled loudly. I glanced out my window at the Times Building clock. It was almost two thirty. Where had the time gone? I ran down to the snack bar and grabbed a couple of sandwiches for Bailey and me, knowing she’d probably forgotten to eat too. I wondered whether I’d be able to send my new second chair on errands like this in the future. It occurred to me that I was finally getting my very own assistant. It also struck me as a classic example of “be careful what you ask for.”
“Food.” Bailey dropped her feet off my desk and onto the floor when she saw me walk in with the sandwiches. “Bless you, my child.”
I picked up the turkey and Swiss and gave Bailey the BLT, her favorite. Then I closed the door—something we seldom did in these shoebox-sized offices. Bailey raised her eyebrows, then nodded. “Probably a good idea,” she said.
“And one we’re going to have to get used to.” I gestured around the building. “Lots of ‘interested parties,’ and now there’s going to be a big market for them.”
“Speaking of which, any idea who leaked to that tabloid guy?”
I shook my head. “I’m leaning toward filing the same charges on Averly and Powers,” I said.
“Either one could be the accomplice, I guess. Even though we think Powers has to be the mastermind, that doesn’t necessarily mean he did the killing.”
“Not yet, anyway. They’re still testing everything, so we might learn differently. But for now, let’s bang out a working theory so I can sort out the charges. I can always amend later.”
“We don’t know how he did it, but somehow Ian got wind of the kidnapping. Then, although the drop site was Fryman Canyon, they all wound up on Boney Mountain—”
“Man, I hate that part of the case.” The more “somehow’s” and “for some reason’s” we had, the more ammo it gave the defense to argue we didn’t have enough proof.
“No more than I do.” We both sighed. “Anyway, I think Powers called in our boy Averly to at least help, if not do the heavy lifting, and be his ride up to the mountain—”
“Right. And based on the messages on Hayley’s cell phone, my guess is that Ian ambushed Brian—”
“Ian? Why not Averly?”
“Charging-wise, it may not matter. But the evidence seems to shake out that way, and he’s the only one with both the motive and the smarts. The way I see it, Ian kills Brian, or knocks him out, gets his cell phone, and sees the texts from Hayley, so he knows Hayley’s in on it and she’s nearby—”
Bailey balled up the sandwich wrapper and tossed it into the wastebasket. “He kills Brian, buries him, but not well because he doesn’t have a whole lot of time, then sends the text to Hayley to lure her out. He kills Hayley, dumps her into the trunk of Brian’s car—”
“Right,” I said. “I’m not sure he planned on seeing Hayley up there—”
“Yeah, I don’t think he planned to kill her. After all, she’s his buddy’s daughter. He might’ve figured that with Brian out of the way, she could be scared off from taking things any further. But when he realized that she was there on the mountain, he couldn’t let her go—”
“Because if Brian’s body was ever found—”
“Which in fact it was—”
“—she’d be a bad witness to have floating around. So he kills her and puts her into the trunk of Brian’s car—”
“Which gives us the blood on the trunk.”
I nodded. “That’s the nail in Ian’s coffin as far as Hayley’s murder.” It’s very rare for someone to kill with a knife without cutting themselves, so the fact that we had Ian’s blood mixed in with Hayley’s showed he likely committed her murder. “As far as Brian’s murder…the physical evidence doesn’t do much for us one way or the other in terms of showing whether it was Ian or Averly. But Ian’s got the motive to kill Brian—”
“Yeah, so I’m with you that Ian probably did them both. Then Averly drives Brian’s car to the airport and takes off to New York.”
“And Ian drives back down the mountain and shows up at Russell’s house,” I said. “So here’s my question: Is it at all plausible that Averly didn’t know about the plan, and just thought he was giving Powers a ride up to Boney Mountain, then got roped into putting a body into a trunk and driving it away? If so, he’s an accessory after the fact, not an accomplice. On the other hand, if he did know that the plan was to kill someone, he’s an accomplice—at the very least to the killing of Brian if not both Brian and Hayley.”
“Do we have to choose now?”
“We have to file something now. And if we file just the accessory charge, and he pleads to it, we could be shut out of ever getting him for murder.”
“But if we file murder charges and later have to reduce or dismiss them, we look pretty raggedy, don’t we?”
“Yep.”
Bailey folded her arms and stared at the floor.
“I’m going to vote we take the risk of looking raggedy,” I said. “Overcharging Jack Averly won’t take any options off the table, but undercharging will. Besides, it’ll give us more bargaining power. If he’s facing a life sentence for murder, he’ll be a lot more interested in taking a deal in return for testimony.”
“So two murder counts each for Averly and Powers. What about a kidnapping charge?”
“Well, the texts on Hayley’s p
hone seem to show they got to the mountain under their own steam.”
“Not for Hayley,” Bailey said. “I meant for Brian. We found his body in such a remote spot. Either Averly or Powers had to have made him go out there.”
“That’s logical. Problem is, there’s no way to prove any kind of force was used to move Brian around. But it’s the difference between what I believe and what I can prove. Besides, if we do luck into some evidence, I can always add a count of kidnapping.”
Bailey nodded.
“So just to play it all the way out,” I said, “Averly drops the car at the airport, then hops a plane to New York—”
“Where he buys the ticket to Paris in Brian’s name to throw us off—”
“Using Hayley’s iPad, right. And then, when the iPad got stolen, he had to get out of Dodge. Fortunately, I made my brilliant move of calling Averly—”
“Let it go, Sherlock.” Bailey tapped the desk. “So who bought those first two tickets to New York? Brian? Or Averly, using Brian’s credit card?”
“My bet would be Brian. He and Hayley were about to come into a million bucks. May as well live it up.” They’d deal with Russell’s wrath later. “We’ll need to get into Powers’s and Averly’s backgrounds, build up the history between them. Show they had a connection before the kidnapping.”
“Already did the background checks. Averly’s you know about. Ian Powers had no time to get busted. Daddy was a drunk, and by the time he was eight, he was a child star who was supporting his whole family.”
“Great. Now we’re prosecuting a charity sponsor, child star, and a kid who pulled the freight for the family. Anything else? Maybe he flies in care packages to the starving in Nigeria?”
“Don’t think he has a pilot’s license, but I’ll look into it,” Bailey said. “As for his connection to Averly, I’ll go back into Averly’s phone bill and check out the pattern of calls between them. They had to have known each other for a while for Ian to feel safe enough to pull Averly in—even if he didn’t let Averly in on the plan to kill Brian.” Bailey pulled Jack Averly’s rap sheet out of her file folder and laid it on my desk. “Here’s your copy. I highlighted the drug busts in yellow. So far, I’m still on board with our theory that he was Ian’s dealer.”
“We should interview everyone at the studio. See if we can find anyone who’ll say Averly was dealing.”
“You really think anyone’ll talk to us now?”
I shook my head. “But we have to try.” I turned back to my computer and started to type. “So two counts of murder for each of them, plus use of the knife, arming with a deadly weapon. And it’s a special circumstance of multiple murder, so it’s a mandatory sentence of life without parole.” I hit “Print” and the pages began to roll out.
“Meant to tell you. Just before I left the station I got word that Averly’s on a plane. Should be landing late tonight.”
“Great. I’ll get this paperwork downstairs. With a little luck, we’ll get these guys arraigned tomorrow morning.” I stood up to go.
But at that moment someone knocked on my door. I opened it to find a slender young man in a black Hugo Boss suit and silk tie flashing me a thousand-watt smile. His dark brown eyes with thick, curly lashes, rosy cheeks, and fine features gave him an almost delicate handsomeness. “Rachel Knight?”
“Yeah, can I help you with something?”
He put out his hand. “I’m Declan Shackner, your second chair.”
45
We learn the maxim at an early age that we shouldn’t judge a book by its cover—and then we proceed to ignore it every single day. I took in Declan’s three-hundred-dollar haircut and his five-thousand-dollar suit and immediately sized him up as a rich, spoiled Hollywood brat who had only to point and his doting daddy would spare no expense or power play to get it. Unfair as hell, no question. But there it is. I’d decided that since he was brought on to be Vanderhorn’s spy/bun boy, I’d use it to my advantage and assign him the duty of making the daily reports. The knowledge that I’d already found a way to avoid the noxious chore brought a genuine smile to my face.
“Nice to meet you, Declan.” We shook hands, and I introduced him to Bailey, whose expression told me she’d had the same reaction to our new teammate that I had.
“It’s good you’re here. I do have something for you to do.” I explained that he’d be reporting to Vanderhorn for me and that he could start by telling the district attorney that I was filing two counts of murder.
“That’s it?”
“For now. Meet me back here in half an hour and I’ll give you the rundown on the case.” By that time, with charges filed, the story was going to start hitting the news anyway.
Declan flashed me another perfect smile with an “Okay, great!” and left to perform his first assignment.
“So who is that kid?” Bailey asked.
I gave her the scoop.
Bailey gave a short laugh. “Well, nice move making Vanderhorn’s spy do the duty.”
It was a minor victory, but I take them where I can get them.
Bailey and I went down to do the filing and get an arrest warrant, and when we got back, she put in the call to Ian’s lawyer, Don Wagmeister. She told him what I’d filed and offered to let him surrender Ian at the Men’s Central Jail, but only if he promised to produce his client within the hour. She ended the call saying, “At an hour and one minute, I’m going to assume you’ve declined this offer and I’ll arrest him wherever I find him.”
She gathered her papers into the file and stood up. “I’d better get over there.”
I was very glad to let her handle the booking herself. I hated the jail on Bauchet Street. Truthfully, I hate them all. But that one in particular is the very embodiment of institutionalized despair. “We should probably notify Antonovich and Raynie,” I said.
“You might want to wait for me and do it together. I think it’s gonna be a bitch.”
I figured Russell and Ian were buddies, but I didn’t know how tight. “You have some new info?”
“A little. I called that head of security guy, Ned, to find out if Averly ever worked at Warner’s. Just trying to see how far back Averly and Powers might go.”
“And this told you about Russell and Ian…how?”
“Ned said he’d have to check the records, but we got to talking about the fight between Tommy and Russell over the script again, and he said it was kind of unusual that Russell had even had a manager. He was just a co-producer at the time, and that’s too low on the totem pole to justify a manager as hot as Ian was—even back then.”
“So Ian was already on the rise as a manager?” I asked. “For some reason I’d thought Ian Powers was kind of a nobody back then. You know, ‘has-been’ child star struggling to make a comeback on the money side of things.”
“Apparently not—”
“Then Tommy’s screenplay was what got Russell through Ian’s door?”
“All Ned knew was that after the screenplay sold, Ian sprang for a group vacation with the wives in Tortola.”
I looked at her quizzically. How could Ned know that?
“Russell kept a photograph of the four of them all sunburned and drunk hanging in his office.”
“Classy,” I said. And after Russell’s screenplay made them both rich and huge, they had all the necessary ingredients for a long-lasting friendship.
Bailey nodded. “Russell’s likely to take this harder than you’d expect.”
“All the more reason why we’ve got to move. We can’t let him hear about it on the five o’clock news.”
Bailey tapped her file folder against her thigh. “If you decide you want me to come, just call me, okay?”
After Bailey’d left, I looked at the clock on the Times Building. Declan had been gone for over an hour. An inauspicious beginning, I thought. Just because daddy got you into the office doesn’t mean you can fiddly-fart around. I started working on my “to do” list, while I mulled over the problem of whether to wait f
or Bailey or not. I heard fast, light steps coming down the hallway toward my office and looked up just as Declan arrived at my door.
“I’m sorry, Rachel. He made me wait, and then he wanted to talk.”
“About the case?”
“A little. But more about how he wanted everyone to know that we’d be taking it one step at a time and that if it was starting to look like we had the wrong guy, we’d dismiss on Ian immediately.”
Who did the idiot think he was going to appease by that? If it were me, I’d just be wondering why he let a case he was so ready to dismiss get filed to begin with. I’d have to find a way to let Vanderhorn know this kind of talk wouldn’t save his reputation in Hollywood; it would only undermine the prosecution. Perfect: I was up against a superstar manager and the DA.
“And who is this ‘everyone’ he wants you to notify?”
Declan’s face flushed and he shoved his hands into his pockets. “My dad.”
Surprised to see that, far from smug, he seemed to be embarrassed, I felt a flash of sympathy. And then the flash was gone. Screw this kid. How many other aspiring prosecutors, struggling to pay off their student loans, had gotten stuck on a waiting list because Declan had a daddy who could push him to the head of the line? But that thought gave me an idea.
“I’ve got to notify Russell and his wife that we’ve filed on Ian.” Plus, I needed to ask Russell about the phone call he made to Ian after he got the first kidnapping message. Make sure he did in fact tell Ian about the kidnapping. “Why don’t you come with me?” I’d see if having a showbiz kid around did me any good.
Declan looked at me with serious eyes. “Do you know how close Russell and Ian are?”
“Tell me while we walk.”
But when we got down to the street and I started to head for the Biltmore, Declan stopped me. “Wait, where are we going?”
“To my car.”
“And that’s parked…?”
“Where I live. At the Biltmore.”
Declan tilted his head, his expression puzzled, but didn’t ask me the usual questions about how or why I lived in a hotel. “Why don’t you let me drive? My car’s closer.” He pointed to the parking lot across Temple Street.
