Marcia Clark - Killer Ambition

Bailey gripped the steering wheel. “I know.”

I shifted in my seat and tried to control my agitation. I could feel time passing, the seconds turning into minutes, minutes into hours, the hours into days. Although it hadn’t even been twenty-four hours since the ransom note was sent, Hayley’s peril increased exponentially with each passing moment. The tightness in Bailey’s voice told me she was feeling it too.

We got off at Highland and took Sunset Boulevard west. Prosaic strip malls, dry cleaners, and thrift shops gave way to giant billboards touting the latest movies, television series, and vodka, and chic little shops selling belts that cost more than a month’s salary. Bailey turned north and we headed through narrow winding streets into the Hollywood Hills. High atop one of those hills sat Russell Antonovich’s “party” house: a low-slung Spanish-style with tiled roof and arched wooden door. As was the case with so many of the homes perched on hills like this, the house looked tiny from the street. But I knew from past experience that most of it stretched backward, propped up on stilts, cantilevered out over the hillside. One of the gardeners was blowing leaves and grass cuttings off the neighbor’s sloped driveway. We would’ve gotten a windshield full of it, but Bailey stopped short and honked. The gardener waved and aimed his wind gun elsewhere.

A uniformed officer standing guard in front of the door was talking to a Hispanic woman who looked upset. We introduced ourselves and asked the officer what was going on.

“She’s the maid. Guess they forgot to tell her we sealed the place.”

I held out my hand to her and introduced myself and Bailey.

“My name is Maria Sosa,” she said in heavily accented English, giving my hand a tentative shake. “What happened?”

“I really can’t say at the moment, I’m sor-”

“Is it Hayley? Did something happen to her?”

“We…don’t know just yet.” I shouldn’t have said that much, but Maria’s concern for Hayley was so sincere, I couldn’t completely shut her out with a non-answer. “How long have you been working here?”

“Three years. Ay, it would be terrible if something happened to Hayley. You must help her,” Maria said, her eyes filling with tears. “She’s a good girl, you know? A little wild sometimes, but always nice. She try to help me learn English…” She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.

I gave her a moment to collect herself. “When was the last time you saw her?”

“Thursday.”

“Was that the last time you were here?”

“ Sí. I work Monday to Thursday.”

“Was anyone else here with her?”

Maria nodded. “Her friend, Mackenzie. The little sad one.”

“Why do you say she’s sad? Did something happen?”

Maria shrugged. “I don’ know anything really. She jus’ seem like that to me.”

Interesting. “Was anyone else here?”

“No.”

I took her full name and phone number and told her she wouldn’t be able to clean the house for a little while and that I’d tell Russell she’d been there. I hoped he’d pay her until we released the house. After all, it wasn’t her fault she couldn’t get in to work.

“Any idea when the criminalist is coming?” the uniformed officer asked.

Bailey looked at her watch. “Within the hour.”

“You get Dorian?” I asked. Dorian Struck was the best criminalist in the business. In her twenty-odd years she’d seen it all and tested most of it. But she was a notoriously tough old bird who was a tyrant when it came to preserving her scenes. If she caught us stepping into the house before she’d processed it, she’d have our heads on spikes.

“I think so.”

Dorian was always in demand, so she wasn’t always available. But a high-profile case like this could put the whole crime lab under a microscope. Pun intended. I was willing to bet big money her boss would make sure she got here. Dorian herself never cared one way or another. High-profile, low-profile, it was all the same to her. All she cared about was the evidence.

Bailey turned to the officer. “We just want to take a quick look. We won’t go inside.”

The officer gave her an incredulous stare, then shook his head. “If Dorian catches you, you’re on your own. They don’t pay me enough.” The officer opened the door and stepped aside.

We stood on the threshold and leaned in as far as we could without falling. The tiled foyer led to a sunken living room that had a panoramic view of the city, as well as a swimming pool that ran from the middle of the room, under the glass wall, and out to the edge of the backyard. I’d have loved its sheer craziness if I didn’t know how well rats could swim. I supposed Russell kept an exterminator on permanent retainer. I couldn’t help but wonder whether that was a metaphor for his life in general. I recognized the iron fence surrounding the perimeter of the property as the one Hayley had been standing in front of in the photograph. I made a mental note to check whether there was enough background in the video to tell whether she was still here when it was recorded.

“What the hell do you two think you’re doing?”

“Shit,” I whispered.

Bailey rolled her eyes and we jumped back, away from the threshold. Dorian had arrived.

She pushed hersunglasses on top of her gray crew cut and planted her short, squat frame in front of us, hands on hips. “You two been in there already? ’Cause if you have…” The look in her eyes finished the sentence.

“Absolutely not,” I said.

“I wouldn’t let her,” said Bailey-the obnoxious, kiss-ass traitor.

I shot her a sidelong look. “I’d never-”

Dorian cut me off with a wave of her hand. “I’ve got no time for this, Tweedledum and Tweedledee. You want the house and backyard?”

“Yeah.” Bailey explained what we were looking for and where the investigation stood at this point.

“Okay,” Dorian said. “Now feel free to get going. I sure as hell don’t need you here.”

We saluted and left. As Bailey pulled away I asked, “What was that ‘I wouldn’t let her’ business all about?”

“Just earning a few credibility points for future use-”

“At my expense-”

“You’re not the one who has to pull favors to get her. Sometimes you got to take the hit for a higher cause. There’s no ‘I’ in ‘team,’ Knight.”

“Yeah, but there is one in ‘kiss-ass.’”

“You’ll thank me the next time we need her and I have the suck to pull her out of rotation.”

She was probably right about that, but it didn’t stop me from privately vowing to get even sometime soon. Bailey’s smirking glance told me she knew what I was thinking. It’s not always a great thing having someone know you that well.

We rode through the traffic in silence for a few moments, then suddenly Bailey gave a short laugh. “What a trip. Ian Powers was little Mattie-”

Russell Antonovich’s manager and business partner.

“And he still knows how to turn on that cutesy smile,” I said. “So you watched the show too?”

“Never,” Bailey said. I gave her a look. “Okay, once in a while.”

We turned left at Outpost Drive and I enjoyed the view of the charming, old, and very pricey neighborhood as we headed over the hill and into the Valley to Clarington Academy, where we planned to brace up Hayley’s bestie, Mackenzie Struthers. The uniform who’d questioned her late last night hadn’t gotten much of anything out of her. It was our turn to try.

“Want to call the principal and have Mackenzie ready for us?” Bailey asked.

“Nope. I got her cell number from Raynie. I’ll call her when we get there. The less lead time, the better.”