Marcia Clark - Killer Ambition

“I hated that ride. Those cars were too slow.”

“But the golf carts are faster,” I said as we got to our car. “So we’re not passing up the ride next time. Got it?”

Bailey rolled her eyes. “When was the last time you hit the gym?” I folded my arms and refused to answer. Bailey nodded. “Exactly.”

But all joking aside-or more accurately all joking now possible-we were fired up. Finally we had what felt like a real lead.

Bailey and I got into the car and she pulled out her cell. “I’m forwarding the article to you. I’ll put out the alert with Brian’s true name, you call in and get the info on the wife and sister.”

We made our respective calls. “I’ve got a suggestion,” I said when we’d both finished.

“Space Mountain?”

I gave her my steely-eyed look. She yawned in terror. “Since we’re on the Valley side of the world, why don’t we hit the jewelry store where Brian was last employed?” I said.

Bailey started the car. “A surprisingly good idea.”

“You can’t teach it. It’s a gift.”

Twenty minutes later, we were riding the escalator up to the shops at the Galleria. From the moment we stepped off, we were surrounded by clusters of teenagers-boys on one side, girls on the other, with occasional meetings between the two that generated squeals and hugs all around.

“You remember hugging that much when you were a kid?” I asked.

“Yeah, that’s me. I’m a hugger,” Bailey deadpanned. “Ask me, it’s just the guys looking for a way to cop a feel.”

“Perhaps today’s youth are simply more effusive in their displays of affection.”

“Or perhaps boys are always looking for ways to cop a feel.”

“Or that.”

But seeing the kids, their clothing, and maybe just the way they walked reminded me of an earlier hunch. I approached a cluster of girls. “Any of you go to Clarington?”

A girl with pink fringe for bangs looked me up and down before answering. “We all do.” The other girls nodded.

“What about those guys?” I asked, nodding toward a group of boys ten feet away.

“Yeah, them too. Why?”

“Just taking a survey.”

“What do I get?”

I looked at her quizzically.

“For answering your questions,” she added impatiently.

“My undying gratitude.” I walked back to Bailey, who was waiting in front of the jewelry store, and tried not to grumble about “kids today.”

“What’s got your knickers in a twist?” Bailey asked.

“Misspent youth. Theirs. And like we thought, the Clarington kids hang here.”

Bailey opened the door and we walked in.

“So maybe Brian took the job to get next to Hayley,” I said.

“Or he found a better job as a manager here and just got lucky when she floated by.” Bailey looked at me, her expression amused. “Sometimes a cigar really is just a-”

“Whatever.”

The security guard was chatting with the salesgirl, who was wiping down the glass counter.

“Is your manager here?” Bailey pulled out her badge.

The girl’s eyes widened momentarily. “Yeah, he’s in the back.”

She excused herself and went to the back room. The security guard held out his hand to Bailey. “Stephen Wareby.”

“Nice to meet you, Stephen.” They shook. “And this is Deputy District Attorney Rachel Knight.”

Stephen looked less impressed to meet me, but he reluctantly shook my hand as well. I decided it’d be smarter to sit this one out and let Bailey take the lead.

“Do you know Brian Shandling?” she asked.

“Yeah. He’s the manager who’s usually here.”

“What do you think of him?”

Steve shrugged. “He’s okay, I guess. He-”

At that moment, the stand-in manager came out, his hand extended. “Adam Meisner. What can I do for you officers?”

“We’re looking into a matter involving Brian Shandling. Do you know him?” Bailey asked.

“No. I usually work in our store at the Beverly Center. I’m subbing for him.”

“He took some time off?”

“Yeah. Said he was going to visit an aunt in New York, I think.”

“Did he mention her name? Or say when he’d be back?”

“He didn’t mention her name, but he said he’d be back next week.”

Bailey’s phone began to ring. She looked at the number. “I’ve got to take this. Sorry.” She stepped away and I asked Adam if Brian had a good reputation with the company.

“I guess so. I mean, he didn’t get fired or anything, but you’d have to ask Human Resources. I’m just a manager, like him, so…”

Bailey came back, looking like she was in a hurry. “Adam, thank you for your help. We’ll be in touch if we have any other questions.” She shook his hand and pushed me toward the door.

Bailey led the way through the mall and I trotted to keep up. She’s got a good three inches on me and a really long stride, so that wasn’t easy. Plus, I wasn’t all that anxious to leave the mall’s air-conditioned clime.

“What’d you get?” I asked.

“Turns out our boy Brian had credit cards in his real name. He bought two plane tickets to New York. I’m going to make some calls and get our airport division to check and see whether those tickets were used, and if they were, if the passengers fit the description of Hayley and Brian. And I’m going to have all the lots checked for Brian’s car.”

“Two tickets. So maybe-”

“Hayley’s alive. Exactly.”

“Okay, while you work the airport angle, I’ll see if we’ve got a line on the aunt or the mother.”

We ran down the escalator and all the way to the car. Bailey pulled out of the underground parking lot to a spot on the street where we could get a signal and work the phones.

I got a number for the aunt, Janice Maher-which meant she was either unmarried or not willing to change her name-but got no answer, so I left a message. A records check by one of our DA investigators revealed that Brian’s mother, Estelle, had died of a heart attack three years ago.

When Bailey ended her call, I told her what I’d learned.

“But if the aunt’s in pocket, we’ll catch up with her soon enough.”

It felt like we’d been running for the past two days straight, and I was a little high on adrenaline. I wanted to do something.

Bailey saw my agitation and gave me a firm look. “Now we wait, Knight. Not your strong suit. But we need some answers first and that may take a day or so.”

I nodded and sat back, letting my jets cool. “May as well make the best of it-”

“Yeah. Call Toni.”

I pulled out my phone, but the battery was almost gone, so I borrowed Bailey’s cell.

Perch was a bar and restaurant that occupied the top two floors of a building that overlooked Pershing Square, which was across the street from the Biltmore. Both floors had rooftop bars, and especially in the summer, it was heaven to have drinks up there at night. A summer day in L.A. can be hot as blazes, but it’s a semi-desert, so at night the temperature can drop as much as thirty degrees. That can make outdoor dining a chilly affair. Not tonight. Tonight the air was so soft and balmy, it almost felt tropical. A perfect night for martinis on an open rooftop, where we could watch stars twinkle above and the city lights sparkle below, all around us. As we sipped our drinks, Bailey and I brought Toni up to speed on the case.

“So, girl hates dad and wants to pay him back for dumping mom and going for a younger version,” Toni said. “Girl meets boy who also hates her dad and wants to pay him back for stealing a script from his father. It’s a match made in heaven.”

“Young love is a beautiful thing,” I said.

“Think they’re having a blast in the Big Apple on daddy’s ransom money even as we speak?” Toni said.