Blood Defense

FIFTEEN

I went back to work, feeling the weight of Lisa’s faith in me. At four o’clock, Michelle came into my office. “We just got another batch of reports from the DA, and one of them is an interview with Chloe’s sister, Kaitlyn. I think you should take a look at it.” She stared at my open window and rubbed her arms. “It’s like a refrigerator in here. Must you?”

“As always, yes. I must.” I like to leave my window open. It keeps me awake. And Michelle complains about it every time.

Michelle folded her arms, her lips twisted with irritation. “And we just lost our Wi-Fi connection.”

We needed to upgrade, but we couldn’t afford it. “Again?”

“Again.” Michelle sighed. “I’ll have to go down to Apex and use their computer.”

Our downstairs neighbor, Apex Printing, almost never had customers, but they had an industrial-strength connection, and they were pretty generous about letting us use it. But hanging around there wasn’t a smart move. The few customers they did have showed up only after five o’clock-sporting tats, piercings, and bone-crushing rings on most fingers. Michy and I pegged it as a drug front the day we moved in. I expected the DEA to raid the place any minute. “Let me call the carrier and see if I can get us a deal on an upgrade.”

“I tried, Sam. They won’t do it.”

“Can’t hurt to try again.” Michelle rolled her eyes and walked out.

I’d been down to Apex a few times in the past month, just being neighborly. And, of course, dropping off my business cards. Someone in that place-whether the employees or their customers-was bound to need my services sooner or later. The last time I was there, I’d asked an employee about their Wi-Fi carrier, saying I was shopping for a new one. He’d said theirs was the best and logged on to show me. Now, I remembered noticing the length of his password. These guys weren’t exactly tech wizards. I had a hunch. I used my iPad to find their network provider and typed in AP8182458989. The business initials and their phone number. Stupid. Obvious. And right. I was in.

I went out and told Michelle. “Hey, good news! I got us the upgrade. Same provider as Apex.” I handed her the Post-it sticker with the password.

“That’s fantastic!” Michelle took the sticker and logged on. Two seconds later, she spun around and stared at me with narrowed eyes. “You stole their password.”

I shrugged. “A little. But hey, we deserve it.”

“If they catch us, Sam-”

I waved her off. “Please. Piggybacking on their Wi-Fi’s the least of their concerns.” Michelle shook her head. I put my hands on my hips. “What? Now you don’t have to go hang with a bunch of cartel mules and you’ve got a great connection. You’re welcome.”

As I headed back to my office, I heard her say something under her breath about us “winding up in a block of cement.”

I called out over my shoulder, “They’re not that creative, Michy.”

Michy called back, “Real comforting, Sam.”

I sat back down at my computer and jumped on with the Apex Wi-Fi. It was the fastest I’d ever connected to the ’net. I should’ve done this months ago. I scrolled down, looking for the e-mail from Zack.

I’d been hoping we’d get Kaitlyn’s statement soon. Dale had said Chloe was on the phone with her when he came by that night. I found the statement. “Damn it!”

Michelle came in. “What?”

“Chloe told her sister she was going to break up with Dale that night. Damn it!” Fighting over a drug habit is one thing. But fighting over a breakup is classic murder motive.

“I take it Dale never mentioned anything about a breakup?”

“No.”

“Maybe they got stuck on the drug thing and she didn’t get around to it.”

Maybe. Hopefully. Because I didn’t want to believe Dale was holding out on me so soon. “You know where to find Kaitlyn?”

“She works afternoons at a Starbucks near Santa Monica Community College. The four p.m. to nine p.m. shift.”

“Thanks, Michy. I might hit her up tomorrow.”

It was eight thirty when Michelle and I packed up to leave for the day. Alex was still in his office, hard at work. I stopped at the doorway. “Hey, don’t kill yourself. You’re not getting paid by the hour. And we need to get on the road early tomorrow.”

Alex smiled. “I already finished the discovery. I’m reading up on PI techniques now. What time?”

I’d so lucked out with him. “Make it eight o’clock. You’ll have to pick me up at my place. Beulah’s still not running.” I pulled out a ten-dollar bill. “And bring coffee.”

He took the money and saluted, and Michelle and I left. She was giving me a lift home.

My cell phone rang just as Michelle pulled out of the parking lot. The caller ID said Blocked. I knew what that meant. I could’ve let it go to voice mail, but I decided I might as well bite the bullet now.

Michelle looked at me. I mouthed, “Mommy dearest.” She shook her head. “Give her my love.”

Celeste came at me like I’d told People magazine she wore knockoff Louboutins. “It’s just a publicity stunt, right? You’re not really going to do it!”

“Do what?” I knew what she was talking about, but I didn’t want to make this any easier on her than I had to.

“Represent that awful murderer! I just saw you on the E! channel news. That man is dangerous. What if he comes after you?”

“He’s in jail, Celeste. He can’t come after anyone.”

“But he might have people on the outside who can do it for him!”

“He’s a cop. Not a Crip. Or John Gotti. And why would he come after me? I’m on his side.”

“Because he’s a criminal, Samantha. He doesn’t need a reason. He’s insane. Otherwise why would he kill that sweet actress and her roommate?”

“Whatever happened to presumed innocent? You know, it’s possible he didn’t do it.” Not likely, but possible.

“Please, Samantha. They’d never charge a detective unless they knew for sure he’d done it-”

There was that. But I’d rather chew ground glass than agree with her. “They make mistakes just like everyone else.” Her they’re-all-guilty attitude was nothing new-and besides, I agreed. I moved on to what was new. “Since when do you care what I’m doing or who my clients are?”

Her voice grew sharp. “Don’t take that tone with me. I care about everything you do.”

The hell. “When it affects you.”

There was a long beat of silence. “You always think the worst of me, Samantha.”

“I think the reality of you, Celeste.”

Her voice was rising. “Well, you’re wrong! I’m telling you this for your own good. Don’t take this case. Get away from that man-that cop! Do you hear me? Let it go!”

I was one block away from my building. “I’m about to pull into the garage; I’m going to lose the signal.”

“Listen to me, Samantha! Have I ever said this to you before?”

She’d said plenty of other obnoxious and undermining things, but she was right. This was a new one. “I’ll think about it. ’Bye.”

I ended the call, and Michelle pulled up to the curb in front of my building.

“I take it your mother is less than thrilled with you taking the case.”

“Your powers of deduction are, as always, astounding.”

“Why don’t you tell her you need the money?”

“Because she’d tell Jack to give it to me, and I’d rather cut off my right hand than take money from her.”

Michelle sighed. “What time do you think you’ll get back to the office tomorrow?”

“Can’t tell. I’ll call with updates.”

When I got upstairs and changed into my sweats, I kept my promise to Celeste. I did think about it. Not about getting off the case. About why she wanted me to.

I’d had thirty-three years of up-close-and-personal experience with Celeste Brinkman (changed from the original “Charlene” because she thought Charlene was a “hillbilly” name). Enough to know that this had nothing to do with her concern for my safety. When she got this whipped up about something, it always had to do with her. Her image, her status, her convenience.

Conclusion? Someone at the country club or her Pilates class must’ve dropped a comment that made her believe my taking the case would make her look bad.

As earth-shattering as that event might be for her, I was willing to let her deal with it. Because that’s the kind of evil, selfish bitch I am.