"Well, what do they look like?" Matty asked.
"I can't tell. They've pulled up behind me in this parking garage in Little Tokyo. They're just, sitting there."
The car revved its engine, as if to let Zeke know he was being watched.
"I don't think they're too happy—"
All of a sudden, the car swerved past Zeke and descended the parking garage. He could see it go north on Second Street and out of sight.
"It's gone, now."
"Too bad," Matty said, "we could've used another friend."
Chapter 8
February 28th, 10:00am
"What do we know so far?" Zeke asked.
Zeke and Matty had met at the office to go over details of the case. Zeke recounted his kidnapping and the deal from The Inland Widows. Matty told Zeke about his encounter with Marlowe at Dirty Laundry.
"Well," Matty started, "for starters, I think L.A. might have a drug problem."
"No kidding. I mean what about Alex's case?
"We know from the ladies working on Cahill's latest movie set that she was noticeably freaked out in the week leading up to her death. And Cahill's stunt double told us he was aggressively pursuing her on set, maybe even harassing her."
"Right. And the food lady told us Cahill had hired her own security detail for protection."
"Well, that's only half true. According to Marlowe corroborated what the stunt double told us, that Mikulski hired those bodyguards. Apparently, he needed to keep a better eye on his cash cow."
"Interesting. So Mikulski had motive, assuming Cahill was either looking to walk away from show business or rebuffed his romantic advances. And he definitely had opportunity, given the fact that she was murdered at his house."
"At his party, no less," Matty said, "he could've orchestrated the whole night just to kill her."
"I guess my one question is: how does the murder weapon make it into Alex's motorcycle?"
"Any number of ways," Matty suggested, "could've had one of his henchmen break into the motorcycle's cab and stash it. Could've been that Wainwright guy."
"I guess so, but it seems so . . . random. And wouldn't there have been a sign of a break-in?"
"Where were his keys?"
"After he spilled wine all over Cahill, he changed in a spare room, I think, and left his keys and dirty clothes in a hallway closet."
"Maybe Mikulski saw and took advantage?"
"Maybe. Seems like the simplest way to reconcile the facts," Zeke said.
"So we agree, then, Mikulski is the most likely killer."
"Yeah. Even if he isn't, this is probably the most persuasive theory to a jury."
"So now what do we do?" Matty asked, sipping on the free shared-workspace coffee.
"Alex's pre-trial conference is tomorrow morning. I need to tell him about the Inland Widows and Jimmer. Hopefully I can calm him down, he's not doing himself any favors by beating up his cellmates."
"What about Mikulski?"
"Given what we know, I don't think Alex will want to plead out. So we'll take it to trial and present the evidence we have against Mikulski and VMK. Hopefully the LAPD will take it from there."
"And what about your stalker. The one from last night?"
"This is a messy business, I'm finding out. If we're not being squeezed from every angle, then we're not doing our job. We just need to keep doing it."
"Zeke Blackbird, ladies and gentlemen," Matty joked, "I'd follow you over a bridge if you'd ask."
"No you wouldn't."
"No, you're right, I wouldn't. But I'd totally pour one out for you."
March 1st, 12:15pm
"So he just, dropped you off in Little Tokyo?" Lexi asked Zeke.
Zeke had asked her out on a second date to make up for the other night. She was busy, though, so she asked Zeke to meet her for dinner at her office.
Lexi worked in a high-rise on the corner of 4th and Grand, just across from Angel's Knoll, one of the few parks in Downtown L.A.
Zeke walked into the lobby. The floors were dark green marble tile and and the walls were polished wood. Zeke had forgotten to ask Lexi which floor she worked on. He walked up to a reception desk and looked at a digital directory. He typed in 'law firm' and dozens of firms showed up. The type that have two and three names. They sound like money, Zeke thought to himself. He found her firm. Fifty-fifth floor, nice.
The elevator opened to Lexi's floor and Zeke walked into the firm's office.
"Hello, sir, how can I help you," a receptionist asked.
"I'm here to see Lexi Gold," Zeke asked, holding a take-out bag of hamburgers.
"It'll be just a second," she said, picking up her phone and dialing Lexi's secretary.
After a few minutes Lexi appeared in the office lobby. "Hey, Zeke, it's so good to see you."
"Likewise! I'm sorry again about our date the other night."
"Don't be! Let's eat in my office," she said.
Lexi led Zeke down an ornately decorated hallway. All of the offices and conference rooms were separated by glass partitions. The offices themselves had large, floor-to-ceiling windows, offering views of the city. Zeke thought about his view of the stucco wall across the alley.
"Just in here," she said, ushering Zeke inside her office. Her office space was clean and organized. She had a few photos of family and friends on her desk. A well-worn yoga mat and gym bag were in the corner, along with some dress shoes.
"Sorry about the mess," she said, "I'm here so much, honestly, it's become my second home. Maybe my first, even."
"No, on the contrary, it's quite clean. I love the view."
"Thanks. This could be yours, too, if you're willing to sell them your soul," Lexi said, half-jokingly. "And thanks for bringing burgers."
"No problem."
They unwrapped their food and spent a couple awkward seconds in silence.
"So . . . I'm just going to ask . . . what happened that night?"
"It was just someone interested in the Cahill case. It wasn't as bad as it seemed."
"Well, it seemed pretty bad. I spent the entire night worrying that you were dead. The waitstaff watched me like a hawk for at least an hour after you left. I was going to call the police in the morning if I didn't hear from you.
"I'm glad you didn't, frankly, it would've made things worse."
"What did they want?"
"Look," Zeke said, "You already know I can't tell you much, Lexi."
"Playing your cards close to the vest?"
"Something like that. Matty and I think we've figured out what probably happened that night. We feel pretty good about our theory. But honestly, I'm in way over my head."
"How do you mean?"
Zeke stood up and turned around. He looked across the whole floor, dozens of offices with as many attorneys at work, logging their billable hours.
"Look at all the lawyers," Zeke said, "they went to fancy schools, did law review and trial team. They're the best of the best. Somehow I muddled through school and passed the bar exam. But I'm just some guy. It's a complete fluke that I got this case and I can't in good conscience take it to trial, if it comes to that. Alex deserves a zealous advocate.
"First of all," Lexi said, "I went to the same school. I promise you, the law we learned there is the same exact law they teach everywhere else. The only difference is the quality of the cafeteria food."
"Ugh, don't remind me," Zeke said, laughing.
"Second, you're totally right. There are tens of thousands of lawyers in this state that are probably more qualified than you to be working on the Cahill murder. But Alex didn't call them. He called you."
"Yeah, but that's my point. He shouldn't have."
"So what? Where's the guy that tried to hand a business card to his would-be kidnapper? You and Matty have been running all over town working to keep Alex out of prison. Do you think anyone else would've hustled that hard?"
"Maybe. Maybe not."
"I think not, Zeke. You've just started you
r own firm, but you bring certain things to the table that other lawyers don't. You and I both know you don't have any other clients."
"Ouch."
"My point is, you've got time. And between you and Matty, you've got the knowledge and energy to execute a perfectly good litigation strategy. If you would just get out of your own way for a second—"
"I'm just trying to be realistic," Zeke said.
"Fine. But don't tell me that you're incapable. We passed the bar just like everyone else, and this stuff isn't rocket science. Collect evidence and poke holes in the prosecution. They have to meet the burden of proof. You just need to show the jury a plausible way out. By the sound of it, you're nearly there."
"Yeah, ok. Thanks, Lexi. I needed that."
"Absolutely. So, what's your plan?"
"Alex's pre-trial conference is tomorrow morning. I'll be meeting with Alex and then ADA Williams. He'll get another chance to accept the District Attorney's plea bargain before we schedule his trial date."
"What's the offer?"
"25 to life. Williams is willing to take the death sentence off the table."
"That's a tough pill to swallow if you're innocent."
"It would be tough for anybody, honestly. Alex isn't doing too well in jail, either. Apparently, he's getting violent with other inmates. Can't say I blame him."
"If he innocent, I mean really innocent, you've got to get him out of there Zeke."
"I know, I'm working on it.
March 2nd, 9:55am
Zeke rode the metro to the Stanely Mosk Courthouse in Downtown. As he came up the escalator he could see its pinkish-purple marble facade. When he approached street level he saw the line of people waiting to get inside. They came from all walks of life. They wore tattered, casual clothing and designer brand suits. They had slicked back hair and worse baseball caps. They spoke English, Spanish, Chinese, and languages that Zeke didn't even recognize. They ate burritos, donuts, bagels, fruit, and coffee. They were crying and they were stone-faced. They all wished they were somewhere else.
Zeke walked across the street and towards one of the building's side doors. Lawyers could access the courthouse thorough a special entrance meant for lawyers, judges, and courthouse staff. There were only a few lawyers at the sidedoor when he walked inside.
"Please place all your belongings on the conveyor belt. Cell phone, keys, wallet, everything."
As he walked through the metal detector he recognized Salter collecting his belonging on the other side.
"Detective, it's good to see you."
Salter turned around, acknowledging him. "Well, hey there Zeke, figured you would be coming through here this morning."
"What are you here for?" Zeke asked.
"Same thing as you. The Department likes us to show up to all of the hearings for our cases, if possible. Help answer any questions the judge or DA might have."
"I see."
"I’ve know you’ve been running around town trying to get Mr. Garcia out of jail? Doing everything by the books, I hope. Wouldn’t want to put you in cuffs either. That’d be . . . tragic.”
Zeke was stunned and speechless.
"Chill out, Blackbird, I'm just pulling your chain. You and I both know you don't have the spunk to walk on the wild side."
"Right," Zeke said, deciding it was better to accept the backhanded compliment, "I guess I'll see you up there."
Zeke took the elevator to the third floor. Alex's hearing was in the same department as his arraignment, Judge White's courtroom. There were dozens of people waiting outside the courtroom's double doors. Mostly media and onlookers. Zeke thought he recognized Cahill's parents from their recent TV interviews.
"Mr. and Mrs. Garcia?" Zeke said to the crowd, looking for Alex's parents.
A middle aged man stood up and raised his hand, waving at Zeke.
Zeke offered a handshake, "I'm Ezekiel Blackbird. It's nice to meet you in person."
"Thank you so much for taking our son's case. My name is Javier and this is my wife Maria."
"Hello," Maria whispered. Zeke could tell that the past few weeks had been hard on her.
"What is going to happen today?" Javier asked.
"Well," Zeke started, "it's called a pretrial conference. I will meet with the Assistant District Attorney in a few minutes and discuss their case. They will probably extend another plea offer." Zeke noticed Maria beginning to cry.
"I'll have some time to talk to Alex afterwards. I'll communicate the details of the offer and discuss my firm's investigation into his case. Things have been going well."
"So do you think you can get him out?" Maria asked.
"I can't make any promises. Judges and juries are fickle. My strategy at the moment is to undermine the DA's case, and hopefully negotiate down their plea offer. If the ADA isn't willing to budge, then Alex may decide to go to trial. It's his decision, in the end."
"There's no way our son could have done this. He's a nice boy. He's been working to help pay the bills," Javier said.
"I understand. The bailiff will call you in when Alex is up. His hearing will only last a few minutes. I'll see you inside."
Alex walked inside the double doors. The courtroom was empty except for ADA Williams, the bailiff, and Judge White's clerk. Zeke could also see Salter sitting in the back corner of the audience.
"Can I help you?" the bailiff asked.
"I'm counsel for Alejandro Garcia. I need a few minutes to speak with the ADA Williams. Can you bring Mr. Garcia to the Fishbowl in 15 minutes? Thank you"
"Sure thing," the bailiff said, sending the request out over his shoulder microphone.
"Mr. Blackbird, it's good to see you. Shall we?" Williams asked, gesturing to the Fishbowl.
Zeke walked into the back room and sat down.
"So," Williams started as he closed the door, "is your client ready to plead?"
"I won't know until I hear your new offer."
"New offer?" Williams replied. "I think you've got things backwards here, Mr. Blackbird. You client isn't in a position to make demands of The People. We've got him red-handed on this murder."
"That's the thing though, isn't it," Zeke said, "You don't."
"And what do you call finding the murder weapon in his motorcycle. Coincidence?"
"It was planted."
"That's the theory you're going with? This was all a setup? You can't be that stupid, Zeke."
"Let me ask you a question. Did the police look at all into Victor Mikulski?"
"They did. According to their report, he was with party guests the entire time leading up to Ms. Cahill's death."
"I have witnesses that will testify Mikulski was harassing Cahill on set. He even hired her a personal security detail to keep tabs on her."
"And the murder weapon?"
"It's plausible that Mikulski or one of his guys put it in Alex's car. His keys were in a hallway closet for most of the party."
"If Mikulski was romantically interested in Cahill, why would he kill her?"
"Any number of reasons. Maybe she finally rejected him. Or maybe she told him that she wanted out of the movie business."
"That's a lot of maybes, Zeke."
"Mr. Blackbird is fine, thank you."
Williams sat back in his chair, thinking over the case. He put his briefcase on the table, opened it, and pulled out a piece of paper.
"I'm going to level with you, Mr. Blackbird," Williams said. "This is an email from the District Attorney, herself. There were no fewer than 17 guests taking cellphone footage of Cahill's death that night. Most of them also had video of your client spilling wine all over her dress and getting burned for it. All of that footage found its way to YouTube or tabloids within hours of her murder. We eventually got them all taken down, but the damage was done. Your client has already lost in the court of public opinion. We found the murder weapon in his car. I can't in good conscience delay his conviction for this . . . wild goose chase."
"I understand, but—"
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"But, the DA would prefer to tie up this matter and avoid a trial. I've been authorized to offer your client 20 years to life, with opportunity for parole at 17 years with good behavior.
Seventeen years, Zeke though, Alex would be 35 when he got out of prison. He'd still have more than half his life ahead of him.
"Interesting, I appreciate the DA's offer," Zeke said. "But there's just one more thing. In the course of our investigation, several witnesses have mentioned Mikulski's rather profitable side business. Apparently he's—"
"A druglord?"
Zeke was shocked that Williams already knew.
"I've heard the stories," Williams continued, "I worked on drug-related felonies before this. It sounds like something out of a comic book, if you ask me. And we never had a witness that was willing to testify to it. Salter said that he checked with our regular informants, and they didn't mention anything about Mikulski running a drug enterprise."
"We have a witness, one of his distributors, willing to testify."
Williams paused. "Do you, though?"
"How do you mean?" Zeke asked.
"I mean, have you actually asked if they are willing to walk into a public courtroom, with media sitting in the audience, and tell the jury that Victor Mikulski deals drugs. Even if they said yes, I guarantee they wouldn't show up. It's all risk and no upside."
Zeke hadn't actually met Marlowe, and he wasn't quite sure how solid she was as a witness. "So where do we go from here?" Zeke asked.
"Well, I've given you the DA's final offer. Relay it to Mr. Garcia and we'll see what he thinks. If it's a no, then we set a trial date. Here's your client now."
The door opened, and Alex walked through in hip and ankle chains.
Williams stood up and nodded towards Alex, "Mr. Garcia, good morning," before heading back to the courtroom.
The bailiff removed Alex's chains and sat him down opposite Zeke. "I'll be standing outside," he said, closing the door behind him.
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