Plans change. Enough is enough.
I dialed Marty’s number from memory. His wife, Lily, answered. ‘Hello? This is Marty’s phone. He’s kind of indisposed right now. May I help you?’
‘Lily? This is Ellie. Is Marty around?’
‘Oh, dear. Marty is, um, biologically indisposed, if you know what I mean. Too many burritos I think.’
‘Ouch. Don’t tell him I called. I don’t want him getting into trouble. I’ll try him later.’
‘Don’t hang up. He’s only going to be a few more minutes. I want to talk to you anyway. He mentioned something to me about money for you to disappear.’
‘I wish he hadn’t.’
‘He did. How many times have I fed you at my house? A couple of dozen over the last year and a bit?’
I sighed. She wasn’t going to shut up. ‘At least. Always excellent food, too. Why? What does that have to do with anything?’
‘In all those times you broke bread with me, did you ever, even once, take me for an idiot?’
‘Of course not. And I don’t think I’ve ever called you an idiot. Silly question. I thought we were best of pals.’
‘I’ve got a pretty level head on my shoulders. You’re buried in this too deep. You’re not seeing the facts. Running is absolutely the wrong thing to do.’
I sighed. ‘I know.’
‘What?’
‘I’ve received a couple of text messages from someone who has claimed to have set up Sweeney’s death to look like a faked suicide and ultimately fingering me as the killer. He, or possibly she, has threatened to kill me now and make that look like a suicide, complete with a note expressing remorse for killing Bart. I’ve changed my mind. I’m not going anywhere. I’m going to find that asshole and drop him.’
Silence. For almost ten seconds, then Lily exhaled a deep breath. ‘My, but don’t you live an interesting life. You’re obviously going to the police with this.’
Ah, the $64,000 question. ‘Not yet.’
‘Hang on, I’m putting you on speaker. Marty’s here.’
There was a click and the unmistakable sound of Marty huffing and puffing. ‘Who is it, Lil?’
‘It’s me, Marty. Just telling your wife not to worry about the money. I’ve got bigger problems.’
Lilly interjected. ‘She just told me the person who killed Sweeney has contacted her, admitted to it and has threatened to kill her now.’
‘Ellie, call the police right now. Hang up and call the police and tell them this.’
‘No, not yet.’
‘Why in hell not?’
I didn’t know if I could explain it correctly. I wasn’t sure myself. ‘The police aren’t going to believe me. I ran. That was stupid, but I did it. Then the evidence kept piling up making it look even worse for me. They aren’t going to believe me unless I can get some concrete evidence.’
‘You’ve got the messages, don’t you?’
‘Probably from a throw away phone like the one I’ve got. I could have got a second phone and sent myself the messages. I need to find this person and get them to admit something only the killer would know.’
‘No, no, no, no. This is insanity. You’re not VI Warshawski. Although that would be a great remake for you. Remind me once all this is sorted.’
‘Marty.’ Lily’s voice could cut glass. I smiled. He was always trying to make a deal.
‘Sorry. Look young miss, I’ll get some private detectives on this. I know some guys.’
‘Marty, you’re a helluva nice guy. I’m calling you to tell you I don’t need your help. I do not want you to help me. Is that understood? As far as the police are concerned I’m still a fugitive and you’ll be both obstructing justice and aiding and abetting and probably something else, too. I’m hanging up now. I’ll call you in a couple of days when I’ve got things figured out. Don’t call me, promise?’
‘How can I promise that?’
‘You’ve got to. I need to go.’ I hung up before they had a chance to reply. Good old Marty. Knowing him he’d be on the phone right now calling some private detective and getting them on the case. Like a boss.
I had to get to work on this. Tracking the number would be a good start. Charlie said he was working at a mobile phone company. If he was still there.
I went back to the message he sent and called him.
‘Charlie speaking.’
‘Mate, Ellie here. Are you still at the phone company?’
‘That’s how I got your number. Looking for a job?’ He sounded tense.
‘Is everything okay?’
‘As well as can be expected. I thought I was finally out of the rat race. Sweeney had a good deal for me and now he’s dead and I don’t know what the hell’s going on. What can I do for you?’
‘Are you at the office?’ I slid into a walkway, out of sight of most of the passing foot traffic.
‘Working evenings this week Ell. You actually woke me. Why?’
‘I’m sorry. I’ll call you later.’
‘Hey, I’m awake now. What’s up?’
‘I received a threatening message from someone who said they killed Sweeney. I wonder of you could find out who owns the number.’
He hesitated. I could almost hear him thinking. ‘I can log in remotely and have a look, but no guarantees.’
‘Can I give you the number and you get back to me?’
‘This is unofficial, okay? I’m not supposed to access these records without a legal request. Under the table stuff, okay?’
‘Absolutely.’ I recited the number from the text message. ‘Let me know what you find out when you can. Thanks. I really appreciate this.’
‘Don’t thank me yet.’ He hung up.
Fingers crossed.
Something about that number seemed familiar. Like I’d seen it somewhere else before. I scrolled to the missed calls list and there it was. Late last night. So the bastard had called me. I was sleeping at Ann’s. Too bad. I’d love to talk to this guy.
So I dialed the number. It rang once then went to a generic voicemail prompt. “The person you have called is unavailable. Leave a message after the tone.” I didn’t bother.
He dumped me. He knew I was calling and rather than talk to me he chose to dump the call to voicemail.
I jumped as a text message arrived. From him.
“You don’t control your life. I do. I’ll talk to you when I choose to talk to you. And it will be a very short conversation. Enjoy your last day on earth.”
What a fucking asshole.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Stanfield placed a large coffee on Perkins’ desk. ‘We need to find Bourke today. It’s going on too long and we - our - asses are going to be in a sling.’ He looked pointedly at Perkins’ chair. ‘And in your case a very large sling.’
‘Thanks for the coffee partner. And point noted. About Ellie. Not about my ass. That was harsh.’
Samson walked in the middle of the conversation. ‘He after your ass already? Stanfield, want to transfer to West Hollywood?’
‘If it isn’t dog-squad. What brings you up here?’
‘What’s the latest on our mutual felonious friend?’
Perkins flipped open the file on his desk. ‘According to the phone geeks her number hasn’t surface in a long time. She might still be at the beach, she might have hopped a rail car to Canada. Hard to say.’
‘You’ve got to have more intelligence than that.’
‘Excuse me?’
‘Not personal intelligence, Perkins. I’m sure you’re a smart guy. Situational intelligence. You checked on her friends?’
‘Not too many to pick from.’
‘You’re kidding, right? Cathy and Bernie. Emily and Henry. Marty and Lily.’
‘Isn’t he her manager?’
‘And friend.’
‘We talked to all of them. They know nuthink.’
‘Thanks Schultz. They’re going to lie to you. Or at least withhold information. When Ellie makes a friend they tend
to be very loyal.’ He scratched his chin. ‘I consider her a good friend. And while I wouldn’t lie for her, I’ll help her on this anyway I can.’
Perkins stood and squared off with Sampson. ‘So you think she didn’t do this.’
‘I don’t. I’d bet a good chunk of my annual salary she didn’t.’
Perkins shook his head. Hands on his hips he cocked his head and smiled a half smile. ‘Thinking with your dick, dog-squad. For you to be right, someone would have had to steal her gun, earring and some strands of hair, determine a time when she had no alibi, kill Sweeney in a poorly staged fake suicide, and leave enough evidence to point us in her direction. This is mastermind type of stuff.’
‘Hardly mastermind. Clever, maybe, and certainly not beyond the realm of possibility.’
‘Are you familiar with the principle of Occam’s razor, Sampson?’
‘Who isn’t? Lazy man’s way of looking at things.’
‘The simplest solution is usually the right solution.’
‘And that’s my problem with it, right there. “Usually”. Not 100%, not always, not every time. “Usually”. That leaves open a very wide door for it not being the right solution.’ He put up his hands. ‘Look, if I was just looking at the evidence I’d be with you on this. But it’s more than the evidence. I know Ellie. I know her quite well. Well enough to know she didn’t kill Bart.’ He crossed his arms and strolled around the office. ‘That means, obviously, your far-fetched idea is what actually happened. Who else are you looking at for this?’
Perkins shook his head. ‘Were you not paying attention, dog-squad? I’m not looking at anyone else. This has Bourke written all over it.’
Sampson nodded. ‘Sure. But you might want to expand your horizons a bit. Someone out there, not Ellie, has done this. And they might be looking at other targets now, what with the success they’ve had deflecting suspicion from themselves.’
‘You’re building an alternative case out of fog and smoke. I’m not sure I can trust you, Sampson. You’ve got emotional ties to this case. You can’t be objective.’
Sampson stepped closer, nose to nose. ‘Really?’
Stanfield jumped out of his chair and wedged himself between the two. ‘Whoa, boys. Relax. You’re disturbing the rest of the inmates.’ He looked at the other cops in the room and smiled. ‘Nothing to see. Move along.’
Sampson smiled and clapped Stanfield on the back. ‘Okay, okay. Lots of conjecture, but not outside the realm, right?’ He pointed at Perkins. ‘Think about it. You’re going to run into a dead end with the Ellie angle sooner or later.’
Charlie poured a cup of black coffee and sat at the desk in his bedroom, laptop booted. He connected to the company systems through corporate VPN and logged into the billing records with a generic login. He had his own, but he didn’t want his digital fingerprints on this. He would use one of the group accounts.
He read the number Ellie gave him off the scrap of paper and entered it in the search field. A second’s pause to access the database and the screen filled with generic billing information. The name of one of the many retail shops, the sales agent’s name and the shop address. It was a pre-pay consigned to the shop, and the billing data not updated. Yet. It might take a day or so for that to happen.
He closed the billing system and opened the Legal Intercept engine. He entered the number again and let the tool search the cell sites the phone had been on recently.
Knowledge was power.
Marty and Lily sat on the back patio by their pool overlooking the Pacific.
‘Lil, if I have fruit for breakfast one more time I’m going to turn into Carmen Miranda.’ He tossed the pineapple ladened fork on the table. ‘I want fucking steak and eggs for breakfast.’
‘Your blood pressure is in the medium to high range and your bad cholesterol is very bad. You know better.’
‘Hey. I’m going to be spending the rest of my life in jail eating slop. I should at least be able to eat what I want until then.’
Lily put her spoon in her bowl of oatmeal and fruit. ‘What have you done?’
He wiped the corners of his mouth. ‘You know the guy who caught George with the cheerleader? I’ve got him sniffing around, on the down-low.’
‘What do you mean, “caught George with the cheerleader”? When did that happen?’
‘Oh, shit.’ He held his face in his hands. He peered between fingers. ‘You didn’t know?’
‘What did this happen? Oh, poor Daphne.’
Marty looked up and bark a laugh. ‘Poor Daphne? She was schtupping the pool guy. I’d say pool boy, but he’s 51. I’m in better shape than he is.’
Lily laughed. ‘Good for her.’
‘What? You were ready to string George up by the balls not thirty seconds ago. Talk about double standards.’
‘Exactly. You think it’s fine for George to have some fluff, but not for Daphne?’
‘Did I say that? How did we get on this subject, anyway? The private dick, what’s his name, Lennie, is doing some snooping around for me. He’s got the contacts to help track down Ellie. Then we’ll get that excellent lawyer,’ he snapped his fingers, ‘Levin. Ira Levin. He’ll have the cops so tied up in knots this won’t go to trial for decades.’
‘I don’t think that’s what she wants. Didn’t you listen to her? There’s some guy trying to kill her.’
‘Yeah, so we bring her in, keep her safe and out of trouble.’
‘Genius, why don’t you have Lennie looking for the killer instead of Ellie.’
He shrugged. ‘Not a bad idea. I’ll give him a call, see what he can do.’
‘You better let Perkins know what you’re up to.’
Marty stood and shook his head. ‘Not in a million years. I don’t trust those guys as far as I can throw them. You know what they did to her the last time. No. I’ll let Lennie dig some stuff up before I get the police involved.’ He pointed his finger at his wife. ‘And don’t you get any ideas about talking to Perkins about this. Good idea, though, having the PI looking for the black hat. Did Ellie tell you what his number was? Can do some tracing.’
Lily shook her head and retrieved her husbands phone from the table. ‘I’ll ask her.’ She sent a text message to Ellie asking what number the threatening message came from and placed the phone back on he table. ‘Lennie is discreet enough?’
He nodded. ‘He dislikes the police almost as much as he likes his fees, so he should be okay. You worried?’
‘You know me. Don’t like going off the reservation very often. Prefer it nice and safe and sound at home.’ She looked over the Pacific, another sunny day in Southern California. ‘Would hate to jeopardize this lifestyle we’ve come to enjoy so much.’
‘Bah, you worry too much. Let me handle it. It’ll be okay.’ He picked up his phone. ‘Need to sort Lennie out.’
Stanfield looked at his partner. ‘Can’t say I mind this case too much. I’ve been to the beach more in the last couple of days than I have in the last couple of years.’
‘Keep your eyes on the road.’
‘Yes, boss.’
‘And don’t get lippy.’ He clicked his pen for a few seconds. ‘So how much credence do you put in Sampson’s theory?’
‘What, that she was set up?’ Stanfield drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. ‘Really?’
‘I asked, didn’t I?’
‘It’s a possibility. Nothing’s impossible.’
‘That would mean she’s actually a target and a potential victim, and not a suspect.’
Stanfield nodded. ‘If he’s right.’
‘And how could we test that?’
‘Talk to her, obviously.’
‘Obviously. Except we can’t find her.’
‘Because she thinks we want to arrest her for killing someone she may not have actually killed.’
Perkins sat in silence, thinking about options and past mistakes. ‘So we get her to stop running.’ He called the desk Sergeant. ‘Claire, Perkins here. You doi
ng well?’ He nodded while he listened to the long-winded response. ‘Yeah, fine. Good. I’ve got a request. Scale back the hunt for Ellie Bourke, okay? I want to try a gently-gently approach. Want her to stop running long enough for us to actually catch her. I’m getting slow in my old age, you know?’
He chuckled at the response. ‘That’s very kind of you. I appreciate if you could make that an immediate command to the boys and girls on the street, okay?’ He nodded again. ‘Thanks. Much appreciated. I’ll talk to you later.’
He hung up and blew a big breath through puffed cheeks. ‘God, what a lot of words that woman has.’
‘She wants you.’
‘What? No. I’m old and overweight.’
‘And married. Yet you still have some kind of hold on her. She hardly gives me the time of day, and I’d spend every penny of my pay-check to try and change that. You, you’re old and arthritic and married and she wants to set up camp in your pants. Daddy issues.’
Perkins dismissed him. ‘Whatever. So the cops are dialed back. How do we let Ellie know?’
‘Sky writing?’ Stanfield turned on to N. Venice and headed to the beach.
‘How did you get promoted again? Got a better idea. All those friends who were telling us she was on her way to Oxnard.’
‘What about them?’
‘We tell them we think she’s been set up and want to help her.’
Stanfield was shaking his head before his partner finished. ‘They’ll never believe us.’
‘We tell enough of them, often enough, it’ll trickle through to her. We know she’s ditched her phone. If she has a pre-pay the odds of us finding out what the new number is, is almost zero.’ He slapped the dash. ‘So it’s worth a try. Find a nice place to park and let’s start walking and talking.’
Emily looked north on the boardwalk and signaled her husband. ‘The cops are on their way back.’
He took off his apron and moved to the front of the shop. ‘You go to the back. I’ll handle this.’ He stepped out on his small patio as Perkins and Stanfield approached. ‘Gentlemen, what can I do for you?’
G'Day USA Page 18
