Marcia Clark - Killer Ambition

“What?” she said.

Ordinarily, I’d start with a “Hey, how ya doin’?” but not with Dorian. I’d bet Dorian’s mother doesn’t do that with Dorian.

“Anything on anything?” I asked.

She jerked her head in the direction of her office and started walking. We followed. Her small, spartan office was decorated in early modern anal-retentive. Her desk was spotless, the in-box placed at precisely one inch from the edge on both sides, and of course empty. Dorian unlocked her computer and tapped a few keys. “Brian’s apartment: no evidence of struggle, hair consistent with Hayley’s was found in the bathroom and the bedroom, and prints that matched his and Hayley’s were found in all rooms. Couple of toothbrushes found in the bathroom. Preliminary tests indicate they were used by Brian and Hayley. I’ll have a final answer when we get back DNA. No clothing in the closets, and other than a used tube of toothpaste-which I haven’t printed yet-there were no other items in the bathroom or the medicine cabinet-”

“So Hayley stayed there with Brian.”

Dorian ignored me, tapped more keys, and squinted at the screen. “Next, Brian’s car. This is just the first look, so we’ll have more when I get time to finish. I found Brian’s hair and prints in the car, of course. Hayley’s hair and prints too. Possibly some fibers from the blouse she was found in as well. It was a lightweight knit that shed a fair amount, which is helpful. Now here’s the part I know you’re waiting for: I found a small smear of blood on the outside of the trunk. Seems to be a mix of Hayley’s and someone else’s.”

“Not Brian?” I asked.

“Not based on the profile I’ve got so far. When I get back the DNA, I’ll be able to tell you for sure, but at this moment, it looks like a third party’s blood.”

Bailey and I exchanged a long glance.

“Do you have a plan for the soil samples?” Bailey asked.

“I don’t ‘plan.’ I already sent ’em out to a guy who’s the guru on particulates.” Dorian looked up from her computer. “And I can tell you, he isn’t as accommodating as I am about your ‘need it now’ jazz.”

Less “accommodating” than Dorian? I couldn’t begin to guess what that might mean.

“Given your findings on the car trunk, do you think we should go back out to the mountain?” I asked.

“I would. It’s dry now, and I’d like to take another look, in the light.” She turned to Bailey. “You putting in the request?”

“As of now.”

I was buoyed by the possibility that we might have the DNA of the killer. Then I considered who our killer might be from a logical standpoint. I didn’t like where my train of thought was taking me, but maybe Bailey would find a way to knock it down.

“We’re pretty sure at this point that Brian and Hayley engineered this kidnapping scheme,” I said. “But obviously someone else got into the mix. Brian didn’t have any friends, so if someone was in on it from the start, that person didn’t come from his end-”

“And we know it couldn’t be anyone in Hayley’s circle.”

“But here’s the question: Why would Brian and Hayley have even wanted to bring in a third party?”

“No reason I can see,” Bailey said. “She knew how to reach her dad, how much money he had, all the important stuff. It didn’t take much to set up the drop in Fryman Canyon-”

“They didn’t need any help. So I’m betting our killer was an uninvited guest at their party. That means he had to have found out about the kidnapping while it was in progress.”

“You two want to blab, take it outside,” Dorian said. “Some of us work for a living.”

We started to apologize, but Dorian had already turned back to her computer. When we got to the elevator, Bailey started to speak but stopped when some others joined us. After we got out of the building, she said, “What about Legs? He ‘sniffed’ the ransom note before it was sent.”

“True. But I have a hard time believing that the guy who called us with the tip-”

“Yeah. Hard to believe, but you never know.” Bailey shrugged.

“He just doesn’t fit the bill.” The skinny, pierced, and tatted soon-to-be doctor of neuroscience was a tough sell as a killer. “But you’re right. I guess we should at least check his alibi.”

“I’ll put Harrellson on it,” Bailey said. “Assuming it doesn’t turn out to be Legs, who else could’ve found out about the plan in time to jump in?”

“Other ‘cyber-sniffers,’ I guess-”

“Jeez, I don’t know. Legs Roscoe was enough of a coincidence. How many others could have jumped in at just the right time?”

“But it wouldn’t hurt to try and run down everyone who was in that cybercafé,” I said.

“I’ll add it to the list.”

I moved on to consider other possibilities. Only one came to mind. “Assuming it wasn’t some random person at the café, all we’re left with is someone who was close enough to Russell to find out on his end…like someone who was in the house when the kidnapping message came in.”

Bailey pulled out of the parking lot and didn’t answer for a few moments. “That fits. And God knows Russell’s place always seems to have a boatload of people running around in it.”

“Good thing we decided to keep Brian’s death under wraps.”

But life is all about balance, as Toni’s boyfriend, Judge J. D. Morgan, always says. That good thing was balanced by a nasty bad thing: since no one knew about Brian, I’d have to get Vanderhorn’s permission to interrogate Mr. Moviemaker’s inner circle. It’d be like slamming my hand in the door, only not as much fun. Then it occurred to me that there was a better option-at least for me. My boss, Eric.

I asked Baileyto stop by the courthouse so I could make my pitch to Eric in person. He was thrilled to talk to Vanderhorn for me, though his display of joy was subtle.

“Don’t you think you’re in a better position to explain why you need to dig into Russell’s entourage?” he asked.

“No. I think you are. Even an idiot like Vanderhorn will get it if you talk slow. And you know he likes you more-”

“He likes acid reflux more than he likes you, but that’s not the point. He’ll listen because he’ll hear the name ‘Antonovich.’ And he’ll want a complete explanation for why a potential major campaign contributor has to strap on a poly and answer questions about his daughter’s murder. I’m bound to run out of answers.”

“We’re not going to poly him…yet. And if you get in a bind, just call me. I’ll fill you in.”

“‘Yet’? I was just kidding. Knight, what the hell are you up to?”

“Nothing. I was just kidding too.” I crossed my fingers. I don’t know why I still do this when I lie. But at least I don’t throw salt over my shoulder…anymore. Waste of good salt if you ask me. “Come on, Eric. I don’t have time to fiddle around with Mr. Potato Head and I really need to get this ball rolling. Whoever murdered these two children is going to be in the wind if we don’t move fast.”

“Fine. But do me a favor. Start on the periphery and go easy until I give you the all clear.”

“Okay, but don’t let the idiot tell his new best friend, Russell, that we’re looking his way. We need spontaneous answers.”

Eric sighed. “Keep your cell phone close. I’ll be in touch.”

When I got back to the car, I filled Bailey in. “So we’ll start with the bottom rung,” I finished.

“We’d start on the fringe of the circle anyway.”

“Housekeepers, runners, security-”

“Then personal assistants, manager, personal friends, and-”

“I’d do the personal assistants last, just before Russell, Raynie, and Dani,” I said. “They know more than anyone else.”