Killer Ambition

38

I moved toward the front of the house where the evidence officer was stationed just as Ian Powers shouted, “I have the right to have my lawyer examine the warrant first! You can’t just barge into my house this way!”

“You do not have the right to have your lawyer review the warrant first, Mr. Powers,” Graden replied, his voice low and steady. If Powers thought he could throw his weight around with Graden, he was about to find out just how sadly mistaken he was. When I reached the front of the house, I saw that Graden was holding a copy of the search warrant and Powers was leaning toward him, neck muscles strained and bulging, chin jutting out, as though daring Graden to hit him.

Graden looked calm as the clear blue water in Ian’s infinity pool. Good news for Powers, because one punch from Graden would’ve ruined his close-ups for the next few months. Graden acknowledged me with a brief nod, then turned back to Powers. “I can assure you that there will be no damage to your-”

“I’m calling my lawyer!”

Graden replied with calm indifference, “Be my guest.”

Ian pulled out his cell phone and gave it the command to call his lawyer. I deliberately turned my back to him and started to hand the bag containing the laptop to the evidence officer. But then I thought better of it and stopped. If there was incriminating evidence on this laptop, Ian would go ballistic, and his lawyer would come running even faster. I could be dragged into court before I ever had the chance to see what I had. I motioned to the officer to join me outside and hugged the bag to my body to hide it from Ian as I made my way around him. Fortunately he was distracted, yelling at his lawyer. I had to get out of here fast, while I still could. When we stepped out into the courtyard, I explained the problem to the evidence officer. “So could you log it in and let me take it back to the station right now?”

“You’ve got to have an officer with you for chain of custody. I can’t just let-”

“Bailey Keller can vouch for-”

“What’s the issue here?” Graden asked.

“Walk me to the car.”

I explained the situation and Graden pulled out a walkie-talkie. “Send Keller out here ASAP.” He moved to my right, putting his body between me and the house to block Ian’s view. “If this turns out to be your guy-”

“I know, it’s gonna be hell-”

At that moment, a customized, chauffeur-driven black Mercedes roared up to the gate. Ian’s lawyer. It had to be.

“Oh, shit,” I said. I turned my back to the gate. “Graden, where’s your car?”

“I don’t have one. I hitched a ride with one of the unis.”

Damn it. Where the hell was Bailey? The gates swung open and the car came roaring up the driveway. Graden walked toward it slowly, making it look casual. I turned my back to the car and moved further up the drive, forcing myself not to look back or move too fast. I heard Graden introduce himself and the lawyer demand to see the warrant and his ID. I hoped that would keep him busy for a while, but before Graden could answer, he asked, “And who’s that woman over there?”

Being the only woman in the immediate area who wasn’t in uniform, I stuck out. If the lawyer saw me with Ian’s laptop, he’d start screaming about privileged material and demand an immediate hearing. If he got the right judge, he could tie us up in court for weeks. My back was to him, but I tilted my head enough to see out of the corner of my eye. The lawyer had started toward me. There was no place to hide, and I couldn’t just run. Could I? Fortunately I didn’t have to answer that question, because at that moment I heard Bailey introduce herself. “And your name is?” she asked him.

“Stanford Trinity, Mr. Powers’s lawyer-”

“You planning to represent Jack Averly too?”

“My plans are none of your concern, Detective. Now let me see that warrant.”

Graden interceded. “Come with me, Mr. Trinity.”

I didn’t hear a response, so I waited until I heard their footsteps in the courtyard before turning around. Then I silently motioned to Bailey and mouthed, “Get over here.” She spread her arms out questioningly. “What?”

I waved at her with urgency and she finally trotted over to me. “Get me out of here. Now!”

She gave me a puzzled look, but hurried to get the car. When we drove off the compound and I could let myself exhale, I explained why I’d been in such a hurry to get out of there. It felt good to finally put the laptop down on the seat. I’d been holding it so tightly, it’d made dents in my chest and stomach.

Bailey had a little grin on her face. “Wouldn’t it be a riot if all it had on it was Angry Birds?”

“No. What took you so long?”

“Got a call from Abe Furtoni back in New York. Our boy Averly just lawyered up.”

“Let me guess: a high-priced white-collar firm.”

“Exactly.”

“And that’s why you just asked Ian’s lawyer if he was representing Jack too.”

“And did you notice? He didn’t ask me ‘Jack who?’”

“Did Abe know whether Jack Averly got hold of a cell phone?”

“He didn’t give Averly a chance. They stuck him in solitary right after we left New York. Averly must’ve gotten desperate, because he finally used the company phone this morning.”

“And called Ian?” I asked.

“Don’t know yet. But Abe only got the call from Jack Averly’s lawyer a few minutes ago-”

“So Ian got a lawyer for Averly about the same time he called a lawyer for himself.”

“Way it looks to me.”

Any doubts we may’ve had about that conclusion were resolved seconds later. My cell phone played “Dirty Work” by Steely Dan-the ringtone for my boss Eric’s number. It was Melia.

“Hi, Rachel. Everything okay?”

The ridiculously cheery yet familiar tone was still jarring. I fervently hoped this would wear off soon. “Everything’s great, Melia. What’s up?”

“I’ve got a call from a lawyer in New York. Want me to patch him through?”

“Who is it?” Never before has Melia offered to put a call through to me when I’m in the field. Not unless it’s Eric or Vanderhorn.

“Beldon Castleman.”

It was a little depressing to know that Melia could really do the job when she wanted to. “Thanks, Melia. Put him through.”

“Okay. Have a great day, Rachel.”

With the next click, I was on with Beldon Castleman, Esquire. He explained in clipped, wannabe British tones that he was handling Jack Averly only as long as he was in New York, as a favor for Donald Wagmeister. “I don’t know if you’ve crossed swords with Don before-”

“I know Don.” Not because we’d “crossed swords” but because everyone knew Don. He was one of the most high-priced criminal lawyers in Los Angeles.

“We don’t intend to fight extradition, and we’ll be asking for the earliest court date available for arraignment when he gets back to Los Angeles.”

“Not a problem, Beldon. But in the interest of fair notice, you might tell Don that if he intends to try and cop a fast plea to the receiving stolen property count, we’ll be adding more charges by the time Averly gets back here.”

A long-standing legal rule requires the prosecution to file all charges related to a single event at once if they have evidence to prove all the charges. The point being to prevent successive, harassing prosecutions. So if the DDA goofed and only filed the lesser charge, a defense attorney could run in, get his client to plead to the lesser crime, and preclude the prosecutor from ever bringing the heavier charges. I was telling Beldon not to plan on that happening here.

“Such as?”

I said nothing. No sense showing my hand before I was sure.

“That’s fine, I’ll let Don know. And in the meantime, I’ve left my number with your secretary if you should need to reach me for any reason.”

When I ended the call, Bailey asked, “How’d he sound when you said you’d be adding charges?”

“Like he could care less.” I paused. “He might’ve been bluffing.”

“Maybe. But if he wasn’t-”

“They’ve already got their strategy ready.”

Bailey nodded. “What the hell are they cooking up?”

“Good question.”