Glass Houses (29 page)

“We're all exhausted,” said Thom. “What were they thinking? How could this ever have ended well?”

“Maybe they thought the affair would burn out and they'd go their separate ways. No one the wiser,” said Birdie.

“Why aren't you madder?” said Thom.

Birdie shook her head. “Past experience has told me I'm a hard girl to get along with. Besides, your situation is the higher offense.”

“What I don't understand is that after you guys broke up he whined constantly about missing you. He obsessed about how Matt's death freed you from the emotional barrier and that there was real potential for a new-and-improved relationship. Then Ron came along and that threw him into a tizzy. And yet, all that time he was banging my wife.”

“Wife is the key word,” said Arthur. “Like you said, there was no way it'd end well. She was an aside, a wealthy woman who treated him lavishly, but there was no future there. With Bird the potential existed.”

“Wonder where he'll go,” said Birdie.

“What do you mean?” said Thom.

“Birdie banished him,” said Arthur. “Told him to leave RHD and never show his face to you again.”

“That's sweet,” said Thom. “But I can take care of myself. George
and I will have a face to face.”

“Or a fist to fist,” said Arthur.

fifty-two

Friday, May 18

Yesterday, Arthur was wise
to have wakened Birdie when he did. After a full seven hours of sleep she awoke with the energy for a workout. After a cold shower and breakfast she was ready to tackle Thom's case again.

If the pattern were correct, the killer would strike again in two days.

Birdie was surprised to see Thom already in the office. He sat at the altar typing away on his laptop. If the altar was going to be used as a table, she'd need to buy taller chairs. Thom looked like a little person behind the mass.

“Please tell me you got some sleep last night,” she said.

He looked up from the computer. His eyes were swollen, but the rest of his face seemed relaxed, rested. He wore the haircut well. Who knew such a handsome man hid underneath a mop of gray hair?

“Six hours. You?”

“Seven.”

“Right on. Hey … thank you for calling Arthur and Frank. I don't know how I would have gotten through the last thirty-some hours without you all. Frank said the healing has just begun, but I—”

“—don't make my mistake and ignore the personal. Don't put undue pressure on yourself. Don't allow the job to distract you from Thom time. You have major challenges ahead.”

“I know. Frank kept saying something similar. And
I've been seriously thinking about it, reflecting on the investigation.
There's a team in place. I'm officially off. My skills aren't needed this go-round. Why should I continue? But here's what I was going to say before … I'm a detective. I started this thing five days ago. I care about the victims. They deserve my attention. Normally, I'd push on and everything in my life would suffer. This case is especially stressful because the killer might strike again on Sunday.”

Thom shook his head. “I feel like I've fallen into a nest of snakes. They're writhing around me and I don't know when one of them is going to strike. I can't do it, Bird, I almost committed suicide. How bad does it have to get before I back away and save my sanity?”

“What are you saying?”

“I've been doing a lot of research this morning. I have a new plan
that involves Anita. We need her help. She's agreed to come over.”

“She's coming here?”

“Uh-oh.”

“You should've asked. This isn't just my office where I do
my
work,
it's my home.”

“Shit, Bird. I have kinda taken over.” He spread his hands in apology. “I can cancel.”

Birdie hadn't considered the ramifications of space sharing with
Thom before she agreed he could use the board. Her mission-in-progress required the utmost privacy and Thom already heard the argument she had with Ron about the not-dead person. She couldn't risk his accidentally coming across her intell. She had to be mindful about where she left her materials, the laptop. Failing to lock the safe? Huge mistake. But he lived here now—even if temporarily—and his stay would be of unknown duration. Still … she felt uncomfortable with the prospect of a cop she didn't know in her office.

“Is it essential she come here?” said Birdie.

“Tick-tock. She'll be here in a few hours. We don't have much time.”

“Alright. But later on we'll need to set some boundaries. You wouldn't've invited her to your house, so why mine?”

“Now I feel like a schmuck.”

“That's not my intent. Yes means yes. Let's move on, okay?”

A phone in Thom's pocket buzzed. He reached in and pulled out the burner.

“Noa.” He aimed for the deck and scooped up his smokes along the way.

_____

“Aloha, Thom, how are you doing?” said Noa.

Thom held the phone between his ear and shoulder and lit a cigarette. “You calling to make sure I didn't kill the bastard?”

“I called to see how you're feeling … considering the participants.”

“I didn't watch the video. The warning label scared me.”

“What did you look at?”

“None of it. My cousin gave me the broad strokes of the financials and watched the video as my representative. Later on, my brother went through the documents and told me George was Anne's lover.”

Noa exhaled. “It'd be easier if it were a stranger.”

Thom took a lengthy drag, flicked the ash over the deck's edge.

“My cousin accosted him. Broke his nose. Banished him.”

“A centuries-old concept.”

“In this case effective. I suspect George will take it seriously.”

“You'll have to face him eventually.”

“Later. When I'm not so broken.”

“How much of the Anne video did your cousin watch? All the way to the end?”

“I don't know.”

“Have her look at it if she didn't. It'll take the edge off. Do you need anything?”

“Actually, yes. Anne hired an attorney and, in turn, a private investigator. He's an ex-cop. If I give you a name can you give me the four-one-one? I'll pay for it.”

“You already did. The disc marked Thom has all that information. Mostly emails between the attorney and the scumbag PI. There's bonus material of interest. Of course, photos of you and your gals.”

“We're way off grid, aren't we?”

“Only good for private negotiations. The Thom disc is the only remaining copy. The prick's computer caught a wicked virus.”

“Nice. Anne said she didn't know what they were doing until after the fact.”

“That's not entirely true. She had a suspicion. Read the email threads and make up your own mind.”

“Ron said you were the best.”

“You got your money's worth, man. So … we're done now. The names Noa and Jin no longer exist in your vocabulary. You never go back to the kitchen. As soon as we hang up, this phone will no longer work, the number disconnected.”

“I'm not sure what to say. Thanks sounds masochistic.”

“Aloha, then.”

“Aloha.”

Thom finished his cigarette. He liked Noa and felt sorry that their pseudo relationship was over. He'd be a guy you'd always want at your side.

Birdie hung up the phone as he re-entered the office.

“Voicemails,” she said. “No new message from our killer.”

“Did you watch all the video of Anne and George?”

“No. Why?”

“Noa said there was something at the end. Watch it for me?”

Thom moved his laptop to the couch and played at nonchalance as Birdie loaded the disc. She turned the monitor away from his eyeline and put on headphones. He watched her as she fast-forwarded through the video. Thom could only guess how she felt watching a man she used to be intimate with doing who-knew-what to his wife. To her credit, Birdie kept her face neutral and Thom was certain she did this for his behalf. The pressing of buttons stopped and she leaned forward, watching with rapt attention. Then it was done.

Birdie took off the headphones. “Do you want to see for yourself ?”

“Just tell me.”

“After the sex they hit the groceries. This is where I originally stopped. George does most of the talking. He said they had to break up. That he couldn't live the duplicity any longer. It was stressing him out. He told Anne he loved you and owed you for being his advocate and vouching for him—whatever that means. That he hated himself for the betrayal. He shed tears.”

Thom braced his cheeks, held back the tears.

“At first Anne got angry, but George continued and said that you're under surveillance and it's a strong possibility that they'll get caught. That they should end it now before anybody finds out and gets hurt. There's some back-and-forth with tears and undecipherable conversation. It's unclear to me if they actually broke up or if George just made the attempt.”

“That's it?”

“Pretty much. After George left Anne straightened the place and that's where the video ended. Noa wanted you to see that George loved you.”

Thom wiped his nose with his shirt sleeve.

With a hitch in his voice he said, “They don't deserve a love song. Nothing will ever be as it was.” He exhaled. Slapped his thighs and stood up. “And maybe that's not a bad thing,” he said bravely. “Thank you. Give me a few minutes? When I get back we'll prep for our meeting with Anita. We'll have to sell it …”

fifty-three

Birdie opened the Judas
hole, spied an attractive woman on her porch.

“Anita?”

“Hi,” said Anita, squinting through the bars. “You must be Thom's cousin. Elizabeth?”

Birdie opened the door. “Come in.”

“I knew there was a woman involved.”

“With what?”

“The zucchini bran muffins and apples. A guy wouldn't do that.”

“Mine would.”

“Have an extra? In my world I don't meet many men like that.”

Birdie chuckled. “You single?”

“A chronic condition.” She flicked her eyes and casually said, “Is Thom married?”

“Newly separated. He's real fragile right now.”

“Children?”

“Five.”

“Ah, a Catholic boy.”

“You say it like he has the plague.”

“Not at all. Just an observation.”

“You interested?”

“Curious. Mostly.”

The way Anita said “mostly” as an aside gave Birdie no doubt that she was interested in Thom, which if true, would discount his assessment that their working relationship was tense and antagonistic. Then again, people often disguise interest behind a veil of disinterest.
This should be interesting
.

Birdie ticked her head toward the stairs. “We're up here.”

As they walked up the mahogany staircase Birdie felt Anita's sizing eyes behind her. Judging—or maybe admiring—the artifacts in the turret, the stained glass dome, the living room. They turned into the office.

“Anita,” said Thom. “Thanks for coming.”

Anita stopped short. “Whoa. Like the haircut. It makes your eyes pop.” She reached out to shake his hand.

“Coffee?” offered Birdie.

“No thanks. I'd like to get started. The investigation is imploding and Craig is freaking out about the way Seymour is ramrodding the team.”

Thom gestured at a chair for Anita. Birdie sat in an adjacent chair while Thom leaned against Birdie's desk.

“Why don't you get us up to speed,” said Thom.

“Us?” said Anita. “What qualifies your cousin to sit in on police business?”

“I come from a family of cops,” said Thom. “Elizabeth grew up in the police business. She's an investigative journalist. See that medallion up there?” He pointed to the wall. “That's a Pulitzer—the top prize for journalists. She started out as a crimebeat reporter, writes true crime, and is extremely successful in her career. She's very intuitive and has great insights into the criminal mind. But mostly, she's smart.”

Anita shook her finger in recognition. “You wrote the article in the paper that has everyone in an uproar.”

“And that,” said Thom.

“All we ask,” said Birdie, “is an open mind. You share with us, we share with you. As investigators our jobs are similar. We may approach the task differently based upon the rules of our professions, but we have the same goal in mind. To get a killer off the street.”

“What do you have to lose?” said Thom. “I promise that whatever
you tell us stays confidential. Elizabeth isn't here as a reporter. She's here as … my researcher.”

“Okay,” said Anita. “Like you said, Thom, I'm all about solving murder. Let's see what we can do together.”

“George updated me on Wednesday. Two days ago. I'm aware of
the DNA match and the content of the statements made by Jelena Shkatova, Dominic's aide Gordon, and Kidd, the bartender. What else can you tell me?”

“George gave me a cigarette butt on Wednesday. He was cagey and wouldn't tell me how it was collected, or who he thought it belonged to. He asked me to attach it the Deats' case, which I did—despite my misgivings—because it was the same brand we found at the scene. The lab liaison called this morning. It's a match to the other cigarette butt
and
Rachel's baby, but it's not a match to anyone in the database. So now we have a suspect. But George has suddenly dropped out of sight. He's not returning my calls or emails. In our meeting this morning, Lieutenant Craig said that George called in sick yesterday, said something about a flu. George forwarded his notes from the search of Lawrence's office. Apparently, it took most of the day. This morning, Craig elevated Seymour to lead investigator and he's a pompous SOB. Worse than you, Thom, no offense.”

“None taken. What happened with the search of Dominic's office?”

“Let's clear something up first,” said Anita. “You claimed to be on the case. Craig told us this morning you were on leave and George
called in with the blue flu. What the hell?”

Thom sighed. “Okay, it's like this. On Tuesday, the morning of the meet and greet, Craig got word that a complaint of misconduct had been filed on me.” Thom waved his hand. “It's bogus, of course, and I know where it came from and why, so it will get cleared. But Craig didn't know that on Tuesday so he cut me from the case as a precaution. I didn't want to ride a desk so I took leave and started freelancing from here. As for George, I haven't seen or spoken to him since Wednesday morning.”

“What have you been working on? What do you have?”

“Why don't you tell us about the search of Dominic's office first,” said Birdie. “That way we can present our findings in a linear fashion.”

“Fair enough. Just know, I wasn't there.” She pulled a slim file from her tote. “Here's George's narrative.” She handed it to Thom, who promptly put it down. “It basically says that the file on Jelena's foster care was not found in Dominic's office. He did get to inspect Dominic's personal laptop. Seems Mr. Lawrence was in an eviction battle with his landlord.”

Birdie and Thom exchanged slight nods.

“According to the IT department, on Saturday, May twelve, Dominic accessed his computer. All the files regarding his housing work with Councilman Fontaine were deleted. On Wednesday, the sixteenth, the IT department was able to restore the files. Copies of which were sent to the district attorney for safekeeping and, against the wishes of the Special Master, George was also given discs. He checked them into evidence. A missing flash drive was not recovered. George surmised that Dominic did not delete his own files and that someone else did.”

“Jelena,” said Thom and Birdie together.

“What was happening yesterday?” said Thom.

“Seymour and Diego were working on connecting the victims. Trying to answer the question ‘why these people.'”

Birdie rolled her eyes at Thom. What a waste of time.

“You and Shaw?” said Thom.

“Shaw's been a no-show since Tuesday. Apparently, he's working on some other case. Remember when Diego gave his presentation and he mentioned the possibility that the killer had a key? Perhaps a past tenant? And that he examined the locksmith's files? Well, I've been running with that. I've interviewed the locksmith for Mobeck Finance Holdings. We're working on affidavits for Ladder Capital and Great Western Group because they've been less than forthcoming.”

Birdie smiled at Thom. Anita was on the right track. Getting her
here was a good move on his part. He saw the endgame and knew he'd need an insider to push forward. George would've been that person. With that possibility gone, Anita was the default. But Birdie was now certain that Anita was perfect for the job. Even if or
when Thom's one-night stand with Jelena was made public, the trial
might still be a winner.

Thom winked at Birdie. They were on the same page.

“Anything about the killer calling a reporter?” said Thom.

“Craig mentioned it this morning. He didn't give specifics beyond saying that a local reporter got two phone calls she believes to be from the killer and that the department was in contact with the
Los Angeles Times
about setting up a wire. He said it seemed promising.”

“That was me,” offered Birdie. “We know the killer wanted attention because of the bloody message, and I believe Sunday's article brought out the killer's impatience and she wanted more attention by calling someone she considered connected.”

“She?” said Anita. “You think the killer is a she?”

“We do,” said Thom.

“Who?”

“Before we go there. Have you studied the files? Listened to or read the interviews, the statements?”

“I've studied it all,” said Anita.

“Good. Then allow us to show you what we see,” said Birdie.

Thom's pep talk came back to her now. “We'll have to sell it. We must seduce Anita into seeing the case as we see it. You're taking the lead because she won't compete with another female. Play up your background as a female in a man's world. Anita will respond to that. Give her something she can sink her teeth into. Finesse her.”

Seduc
e and
finesse
. Fighting words.