Ernesto slowly nodded. “Sí. But you did a good job for Ricardo. And you are famous now. We think maybe the cops will be afraid to lie to you.” He looked at me with his hooded shark eyes. He spoke to Arturo in Spanish.
Arturo translated. “He says he has faith in you.”
Arturo leaned back in his chair and stared down his nose at me-just like Ricardo had. Everything about him, from the curl of his lip to the hands that lay on his thighs, radiated menace. I started to take a deep breath, but it got stuck in my throat. I couldn’t let them see me sweat, so I quickly stood up, my left hand still dangling near the open drawer. “All right. Send me everything they’ve given you. I can’t promise results, but I’ll do what I can.”
Ernesto slowly stood. “That’s all I ask.”
I nodded. “Michelle will work out the payment schedule with you.”
Arturo held out his hand. When I took it, his eyes bored into mine. “And I’ll be doing some digging of my own. One way or another, I’m going to find out who’s responsible for my brother’s death. No matter what it takes.” He held on to my hand for an uncomfortable moment longer as he continued to hold my gaze.
Scared as I was, I refused to let him intimidate me. I stared back at him. “I understand.” I pulled my hand away and walked them out to Michelle’s desk.
When I went back to my office, I closed the door, sank into my chair, and took big gulps of air. I was in business with a pair of maniacs who were out for revenge. There was no way this was going to end well. I just had to figure out how to make it end worse for them than for me.
A few minutes later, Michelle came in. “Since it’s not a trial or a case per se, I took a five-thousand-dollar retainer. Sound about right?” I nodded. “So what’s the story?”
“Ricardo has shuffled off this mortal coil. Got stuck in the wrong tank with a rival gang. They want me to find out how that happened and who killed him.”
“Alex is going to love this one.”
I shook my head. “I won’t need him.” I had to handle this one myself.
Michelle raised an eyebrow. “Well, when you find out who did it, let me know. I’d like to buy the man a drink.” She gave a little chuckle. “When they had to give Orozco that deal, I was so pissed. I mean, where’s the justice?” She smiled and shook her head. “But I guess you never know.”
I returned her smile. “Justice moves in mysterious ways.”
Michelle blinked, then returned my smile. “Funny, that’s what you said when the guy who mugged me got killed in a hit-and-run.”
I was still distracted, so it took me a moment to answer. “Is it? I can’t remember that far back. But anyway, it’s true, isn’t it?”
“In ways both good and bad.” She looked at me closely. “What’s going on? You don’t seem like yourself.”
I frowned and pushed some papers around on my desk. “What do you mean?”
“You seem kind of… shook up. I admit, that Orozco clan’s pretty gnarly. But you’ve had scarier clients. What’s the deal?”
I gave a casual shrug. “No deal. I’m okay, just got way too much going on.” I smiled. “I’m fine.”
Michelle had a skeptical look. She gazed into my eyes. “Whatever it is, you know you can tell me, Sam.”
I made myself hold her gaze. “Seriously, there’s nothing to tell.”
The phone rang and Michelle went to get it. Two minutes later, she rushed back into my office. “Finally, some good news: Scott came through. Chas Gorman has the phone.”
FIFTY-TWO
I was glad we were about to get the phone, but I wasn’t jumping for joy. It’d cost way too much. “Yeah, great.”
She folded her arms. “Samantha. I’m still pissed off, too. But this is what Alex put himself on the line for.”
I gave her a sullen look. “Exactly.” Getting the phone didn’t make up for what he’d been through. “I’ve got a two-thirty meeting with Detective Rick Saunders. Tell Chas I’ll get there around five.”
I was hoping Rick Saunders might be able to give me more information on Ignacio, the alibi witness for the Jenny Knox murder.
But at noon, I got the call I’d least expected.
Michelle buzzed me. “We must be on some kind of a roll. I’ve got Storm Cooper on the line.”
The stuntman who’d been Paige’s boyfriend once upon a time. We’d been leaving him messages for the past three weeks. I clicked over. “Samantha Brinkman here. Thanks for returning my call.”
His voice was cold, hostile. “I wasn’t going to call you back, except I heard you said Paige was the real target.”
“You’ve been watching the trial?”
“No. A friend told me. I just got back from a shoot in Helen’s Bay yesterday.”
Where the heck was Helen’s Bay? “Then you never spoke to the police?”
“Of course I did. I called ’em the minute I heard about Paige’s murder on the news.”
But I hadn’t seen his statement in any police report. “Can you spare me a few minutes to talk? You can come to my office. Or I’ll meet wherever you want.”
“Meet me at Mel’s Drive-In on Sunset.”
That was about thirty minutes away. “How about twelve thirty?”
“That’ll work.”
Mel’s is a retro-style drive-in diner on the Sunset Strip. The wall-to-wall windows that face the street give customers a view of the boulevard-and give the whole world a perfect view of everything and everyone inside the place. I would’ve preferred something more private, but I didn’t want to risk bartering over the location. Storm was curious, but I could tell he’d blow me off in a hot second if the meeting was too much of a hassle.
I told Michelle to wish me luck and took off, hoping I could score a booth away from the window. But when I got there, I saw that all the back tables were filled. I was stuck with the row of booths against the window. I took a seat at the end and ordered coffee. Twelve thirty came and went. At a quarter to one I took to checking my phone every five minutes. When he hadn’t shown up at five to one, I figured I’d been stood up. But since I didn’t have to meet Rick Saunders until two thirty, I decided to give it another few minutes.
At one o’clock, Storm Cooper finally appeared. He clomped in on worn-out motorcycle boots, a black helmet with flames on the sides tucked under his arm.
He was handsome in a rugged, manly man kind of way-dark eyes that crinkled into crow’s-feet; a weathered tan; and long, wavy brown hair. I held up a hand, and he stomped over and slid into the booth across from me.
I’d considered how to approach this. I doubted Paige had told him about “Mr. Perfect.” Storm was an ex, but that didn’t mean he wanted to hear about her other lovers. So I decided to take an open-ended approach. “Thanks for meeting me.” He grunted and pushed back his hair. “Where’s Helen’s Bay?”
“Northern Ireland. Been there for the past couple of months.”
The waiter came over, and he ordered a cup of coffee.
“Were you in town when Paige was killed?”
His eyes hardened. “Yeah, I left a few days after. What makes you think Paige was the target?”
The honest answer was wishful thinking. I knew that wouldn’t cut it. But being the defense attorney means you get to play your cards close to the vest. “I can’t really talk about the defense. It’s privileged. But I promise I’ll tell you when it’s all worked out. Deal?”
He gave me a narrow stare. “I’m outta here at one thirty regardless. So fire away; it’s your dime.”
The waiter brought Storm’s coffee, and he dumped five packets of sugar into it.
“I’m going to need you to start at square one, because I never saw any police report with your statement in it.” Storm frowned and gave me a skeptical look. “I have no reason to lie about that. Especially with the time limit you just gave me.”