Lexi paused again to have another drink.
"He asked a few more questions about you. How we long we've known each other, what type of relationship we have, if we're having sex. He wanted to know if I thought you'd be afraid if he threatened me."
"I—"
"Thankfully I had left the front door open, and I called out to my neighbor when he walked by. The man got up from the sofa and left, just as quickly as he came."
"Did you call the cops?" Zeke asked.
"No. I didn't know his name, barely knew anything about him. Except I saw the tattoo on his bicep: 'LAPD.' After that I knew I couldn't call the police. I locked myself in the apartment until this morning, when I called you and Matty."
"Lexi. I'm so sorry this happened—"
"Do you know who he was?"
"Yeah. At least, I think so. Detective Phillip Salter. I met him on the night of the murder. He's the investigating officer on the case, but his brother also ran Cahill's security team. I think something may have happened between them, I'm not totally sure yet. But I think he's been following me too."
"Sounds like he knows you're on to him. What're you going to do?"
"Matty and I are going to Blue Shield's office today or tomorrow. We'll chat with his brother and try to figure out what happened. Is there anyone you can stay with until then?"
"I told work that I need to take a few days off. My boss was pissed, but I've been working around the clock, so he couldn't say no. I'm going to spend a few nights at my sister's place in Santa Monica."
"Good. That's good," Zeke said. "I'm sorry you got dragged into this, Lexi. Honestly, this is the reason why I didn't want to do this type of work."
"Zeke, you're fighting to keep an innocent man out of jail. You have nothing to be sorry for. You're defending him in one of the biggest murder cases of the year, and you're knocking it out of the park. Honestly, it's hot as hell."
Zeke was caught off guard.
"Call me after your meeting tomorrow, I want to know everything that happens. I think you're close to blowing this case wide open, you just need to go the last few yards."
"Yeah, ok, thanks."
Zeke put his glass on the coffee table. "I need to meet Matty at the office to talk strategy. Text me when you get to your sister's."
He walked toward the door and stopped. He turned around and said, "Lexi, and I really like you. Like, really like you. When this is over, let's go on that third date."
Before Zeke could make it to the door, Lexi caught up with him and they embraced in a kiss.
"Stay safe, Zeke."
"Thanks, you too."
March 6th, 1:05pm
"Glad you could make it," Matty said as Zeke walked into the office.
"Were you able to make the appointment?" Zeke asked.
"I called in, no answer. Automated message said that they open at 9am, I figure we can just show up when they open, hopefully meet with Michael."
"Good."
"So, you think Detective Salter did it?"
"Did what? Kill Cahill?" Matty asked. "It's hard to say. But if you're right and he's been the one following us around town, then I'd say that's pretty strange behavior. Then again, he's a police detective. Could've been on the job."
"I don't think it's protocol to sit around watching the defendant's lawyer all day."
"Okay. So what do you think happened?" Matty asked, spinning a pen in his hand.
"The way I see it, there are five suspects. Alex, Eddie Martinez, Victor Mikulski, and Salter. I'm confident that Alex was just in the wrong place at the wrong time."
"Yeah, but what about the murder weapon?"
"I have an idea about that but let me finish."
"Okay, great, so at least our client didn't do it," Matty said.
"Martinez and Cahill were close, and he confirmed that he tried to get into the party the night she was murdered. I think he and Cahill were close friends, he may have even loved her. In any case, he said he wasn't able to get into the party, which Wainwright corroborated. So in my mind, he's out."
"Seems reasonable. What about Mikulski?"
"He's . . . tough," Zeke said, "and he mustn't have many friends around town, because everyone we talked to said he's ruthless and manipulative. Honestly the only reason I think it wasn't him is money. He didn't rise to the top of the entertainment world by throwing away a good deal. Cahill bringing in loads of cash for VMK. Killing her would've meant separating with a load of money, and I don't think he could've done it."
"What about Wainwright?" Matty asked.
"It's possible, but he's a bit of a dolt, really. He seemed pretty disinterested in Cahill's affairs."
"Ok, fine. So how do you think Salter was involved?"
"I'm not certain, but I have a few ideas. It's a strange coincidence that Cahill's security detail called in sick the day of the party. Something we'll have to ask Blue Shield about. According to Molly, Salter was on the outs with the Department, and had a bit of a reputation around the police academy for obsessing over the female cadets. Apparently, something went down between him and his female partner, the Department had to separate them."
"Ok. But what's the connection to Cahill?" Matty asked.
"What if Salter was working on Cahill's security detail? He may have got to know her and saw an opportunity to get in good with a Hollywood star."
"Seems farfetched, Zeke."
"Maybe, but think about it. If someone really did set up Alex, who better than a trained police officer to place the murder weapon in his motorcycle. Or at least claim that it was found there."
"Don't you think Wainwright or Mikulski or somebody else at the party would've recognized Salter walking around before he killed her? And then again when he was wearing his badge?"
"I remember what it was like seeing Molly in and out of her uniform. She looked like a completely different person. Something about the uniform gives them an air of superiority. And even so, Wainwright said it himself that he didn't even know who was escorting Cahill. As far as he knew, the first time he met Salter was when he showed up to investigate the murder."
"Ok, I'm starting to believe you. But why would Salter help us out when we ran into him in that bar in Atwater? He pointed you to Martinez's place, right?"
"I'm not quite sure on that either. Maybe he just wanted to throw us off his trail. Not to mention the gunfight. Could've figured that Martinez or somebody else might kill me if I went there."
"Alright, so our current theory is that the detective investigating the year's biggest Hollywood murder was somehow involved in her death."
"That's the long and short of it, yes."
"Well at least our first case wasn't a tough one," Matty said, pulling a flask out of his sportcoat." He took a few sips, and asked Zeke, "so now what do we do?"
"Meet me outside Blue Shield Security tomorrow morning at 9am, sharp."
"Sounds good. Want to do dinner tonight?"
"Sorry, can't. I've got a phone call to make."
March 6th, 4:45pm
"Hey big man, what's happening?" Alonzo asked Alex as he walked into their cell.
"Nothing much, just hanging around until dinner," Alex said, reading a comic book in his bunk.
"Whatcha got there?"
"Just some casual reading. I put it on my list of deliveries. Now I've got Jimmer delivering shit to me."
"Hey there, tough guy. You've won a single fight. Now don't go getting too full of yourself."
"Why the hell not? You said it yourself, all a guy has to secure himself is beat down the biggest guy in here."
"I said that, but I didn't tell you the full story," Alonzo said.
"What do you mean?"
"Jimmer is a big guy, and he was the alpha in here until your little scuffle last week. But Jimmer is just one part of a bigger crew."
"I know that. Where else would the contraband from?"
"It's not just any crew, though. He works for the Inland Widows. They have networks in a
bunch of California jails and prisons. Probably employ more people in here than the damn Department of Corrections."
"So what? I know who they are. They contacted my attorney, wanted to strike an arrangement on my case."
"So what? Kid, you've got a whole lot to learn. You can't just beat down one of their guys and expect nothing to happen. Whatever it is they wanted, I hope you agreed to it."
"Jimmer's still running deliveries. Operations haven't even stopped. I just stood up for myself. Not sure what happened with the arrangement. I'm just doing my thing in here."
"That's the thing," Alonzo said, "no one just 'stands up' to the Inland Widows. You've got a target on your back now, Alex."
Show no fear, Alex thought to himself about Rodrigo's training. "What does that even mean? If their guy in here is Jimmer, then I've already shown I can take him down."
"This ain't no schoolyard brawl, Alex. It's not a one-and-done type of thing. I can guarantee, ever since you knocked him out, Jimmer has been stewing in his cell thinking about all the ways he could gut you."
"So what the hell am I supposed to do with this information, Alonzo, huh?"
"I don't know, kid. Be on the lookout I guess."
"When would this type of thing go down?"
"Same as when you did it to him, I suspect. He can't do it in private, now that you've embarrassed him in front of the whole pod. Could be during chow time or when we get exercise time in the yard."
"Alright, well, thanks for telling me. I guess."
"Should've kept your head down like I told you," Alonzo said.
"There's people that can keep their head down and bite their tongue while they're being whipped. And then there's people that, no matter the cost, will fight back. I'm the kind that fights back."
"You're just a kid, Alex. You don't know nothing about life on the inside. You still read comic books for goodness sake."
"And you're an old man that doesn't know anything but life on the inside. You've forgotten what it's like to breathe fresh air."
Alonzo paused. Zeke could tell his words had stung him.
"Yeah," Alonzo said, "well at least I might live to see the outside one more time. It seems like you're working on a much shorter timeline." And with that, Alonzo walked back outside the cell.
Zeke thought about how a few weeks in jail had changed him. Before being arrested, the thought of being in jail scared the shit out of him, like it does most non-offenders. But now it seemed normal. He had picked up the routine, gotten into a rhythm. With Rodrigo's help he had put on a little muscle and learned how to fight. It had gotten him into some trouble, he knew, but beating Jimmer in front of everyone had been more than worth it.
But what Alonzo was suggesting—a jailhouse murder—that was even farther beyond what Alex had imagined. He thought about his parents and sister. About Zeke investigating his case. He thought about his classmates at L.A. Trade Tech. He wondered what happened to his motorcycle.
And he accepted that within a few days or weeks that Jimmer might kill him while he's eating or doing exercises in the yard and that he would never see those things again. And after he was gone, the jailhouse hierarchy would return to life as usual. Everyone would just assume that Cahill's murderer died in jail and that would be the end of it.
Easy, Alex thought to himself. Dying would be easier than the turmoil of a trial and living with a target on his back, he figured.
But he wouldn't let that happen. Because he had tasted what it was like to beat an opponent. Actually beat them, and win. And he wasn't about to let another opportunity to win slip between his fingers.
Chapter 11
March 7th, 9:15am
Zeke pulled up in an Uber while Matty was waiting. The Blue Shield Security office was on a dusty road in an industrial park in Glendale. The office itself backed up to the Los Angeles River, which Zeke figured must be the slowest river in the country because there was barely ever any water in it.
"Why is it that you can never be on time?" Matty asked.
"Sorry," Zeke said, "I had a few loose ends I needed to tie up first."
"Oh ok, that definitely makes me feel better—"
"Look at that," Zeke said, pointing to a deep purple Mustang.
"I saw it. I'm guessing our boy is inside, then. What do you want to do?"
"Do the interview, like we talked about?" Zeke responded.
"Ok, but what're we supposed to do? Sit down with Mike Salter and ask him whether his brother murdered Cahill, while his brother is sitting in the next room?"
"Talking with Michael was always just a backdoor to getting information on Salter, himself. If he's really here, then I'd prefer that we talk to him directly?"
"Are you crazy? What if he actually killed her? You think he's just going to let us walk out of here?" Matty wondered.
"It worked in Atwater, didn’t it? Are you coming or not?" Zeke asked.
"Fine," Matty said, "but if we get killed, my mom is going to file a fat civil lawsuit against Blackbird & Associates."
"Sure, she collect my office supplies."
Zeke and Matty walked across the street and up to the office. The door had a sign reading 'Blue Shield Security' with a solid blue silhouette of a police badge.
Zeke knocked on the door, "Hello? Anyone there?"
The door opened a little when Zeke knocked, but no one responded.
"This is how all horror movies start, you know," Matty said.
"Quit it," Zeke replied. He stuck his head inside the door, "Hello? Can we come in?" he said. "Must be in a back office," Zeke said to Matty.
"Let's go in," Zeke said.
"Isn't that trespass?"
"Yeah, but I knocked . . ." Zeke said.
"Isn't there a rule about illegally obtained evidence . . ."
"Only applies to the prosecution, Matty. Besides, you said the automated message says they're open at 9am. It's 9:15 now. And we're not exactly in a position to be picky. I'll take it however I can get it."
The pair walked inside. The reception office was plain enough with a single receptionist's desk with the company logo on the wall above it. The lights were on, but there was no one inside.
"Look at this," Matty said. He was looking at a monitor behind the desk. "Looks like closed circuit footage from outside and around the office. Maybe they saw us coming."
Zeke looked at the monitor. "Maybe. . ." he said. "Wait, look at camera 4."
On the fourth camera Zeke and Matty could see someone sitting at a desk, apparently in a back office.
"It's not Salter," Zeke said, "so it must be his brother, Michael."
"Yeah, that's him," Matty said, "I saw his picture on the website."
Michael was looking at some papers on his desk.
"Let's see if we can go find him," Zeke said.
At the corner of the reception office was a wooden door leading to the rest of the builing.
"And behind door number one is," Matty said, "a hallway!"
They walked just inside the door and could see a row of offices, mostly closed, but the office at the end of the hallway had a light on."
"Must be down there," Zeke said.
Zeke and Matty walked down the hallway. Zeke knocked on the door softly and slowly pushed it open.
"Hi, Mr. Salter," Zeke said, seeing Micheal sitting at the table, "we knocked outside but didn't get an answer—"
"Glad you could join us, Mr. Blackbird," Zeke could hear a familiar voice say. "But you probably should've stayed away."
A hand grabbed onto the door, swinging it fully open. Det. Salter was standing in front of Zeke now, holding a pistol in his other hand. "Please," he said, gesturing to the table, "take a seat."
Zeke walked in, followed by Matty.
"I take it this is your 'client intake associate.' He can sit down too, thanks," Salter said.
"For fuck's sake, Phillip, is this really necessary?" Michael said to his brother.
"Shut up, Mike. If I say it is necessary than
its goddamn necessary," he replied. "Now what the hell do you two want?"
Put up or shut up, Zeke thought to himself. Say too much and Salter might kill them right there in the room. But say too little and he might suspect they're lying. Salter reeked of cheap liquor, too.
"We have some questions to ask you and your brother," Zeke said. "If you put the gun down, we can do our interview and be out of your hair in a few minutes."
"Tough luck, dipshit, you and your colleague aren't going anywhere. I knew you were trouble from the second I met you. You're too green to know what's good for you."
"Seriously, Phillip. Just let them go. We can figure this out, together. You're not in too deep yet—"
Zeke heard a loud bang and Michael grunted. He looked first at Michael, who leaned back in his chair, then fell sideways to the floor. Zeke turned towards Detective Salter, who was already holstering his handgun.
"He always talked too much," Salter said.
"We need to get the hell out of here, while his gun is put away," Matty whispered to Zeke.
"Don't even fucking thing about," Salter said. "I'll put two in both your heads before you make it halfway down the hallway."
Zeke and Matty were silent. Zeke could see some blood puddling around Michael, who was laying motionless on the floor. He couldn't be sure, but Zeke thought he might be dead.
"Well," Salter said, "get on with your questions then."
Zeke and Matty looked at each other, stunned that he wanted to go on with the interview.
"Get it on with it," he said, "and then I can tell you why you're wrong."
"Ok," Zeke started, "we understand that Blue Shield Security was hired to staff Cahill's security detail, is that true?"
"Well, shit, I guess that would've been a good question for my brother. But seeing how's he's incapacitated, and I'm such a nice guy, I'll help you out." Zeke could see droplets of sweat on Salter's brow and mustache.
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