I stood up. It was time to go. This had devolved into a pissing match, and I didn’t see the glory in being the best pisser.
Now I understood Bailey’s mood before this meeting. She’d known we were in for a brawl, and she’d been right. We got into the car and drove through the warren of trailers and out to the gates. When we emerged onto the Pacific Coast Highway, I reassessed the meeting. Sometimes it’s what isn’t said that makes all the difference.
“He didn’t have an answer for the bogus report by Alicia Morris,” I said.
“Nope,” Bailey replied.
“And he had no comeback for our theory that Conrad lied about having Lilah’s car.”
Bailey shook her head, her expression grim.
“Rick doesn’t like it, but he knows we’re right,” I concluded.
“Or he will.” Bailey sighed. “In time.”
Sometimes cold comfort is the only kind you can get.
73
Traffic was backed up on the Pacific Coast Highway, but the view of sunlight playing across the water provided a nice distraction from our obnoxiously slow progress.
“I’m on board with the theory that Simon found whatever Zack hid and used it to smoke Lilah out.” Bailey paused and shook her head. “But I don’t get why he didn’t just turn it over to the cops.”
This one was clear to me.
“His parents said he hated the cops after that trial and was more than a little paranoid. He believed the only way to be sure Lilah got punished was to do it himself.” I considered what kind of evidence Zack might’ve found. “So we’re looking for…what? A cell phone, a shoe, glasses…anything else you can think of?”
“I’d guess the original report with names of witnesses-like bartenders who’d served Lilah that night.”
We pondered the question of where Zack might’ve stashed the evidence. At that moment, I knew what we had to do if we were ever going to bring Simon’s killer to justice.
“If Simon could do it, so can we.”
Bailey looked at me, then turned back and stared at the road.
“You mean, we lure her out,” she said.
I nodded. “We already know I’m being followed by either the stabber or someone who works for him, right?”
“Yep. And now we’ve got even more reason to believe that Lilah’s tied in with the stabber-”
“And last but not least, Lilah seems to know a thing or two about me,” I said. My skin again crawled at the thought of her run-in with Graden. “Somebody’s giving her information.”
“You ask me, she seems like the one who’d be giving the orders. She’s the one who’s having us followed.”
“Agreed,” I said. “Now we make it work for us. If we’re right, and she went after Simon because he had the evidence-”
“Then we go looking for the evidence, Lilah follows us-”
“And we have a shot at grabbing her,” I said. “Or whoever’s working for her.”
“If they don’t kill us first,” Bailey pointed out.
There was that, of course. If Lilah had killed Tran Lee and dumped his body, then mutilated her cop husband, then had his brother killed, she wouldn’t mind hastening us to shuffle off this mortal coil.
“But we’re not Simon,” I said. “We should be able to make it a little harder for her.”
“Then we want to make sure Lilah knows we’re looking for the evidence,” Bailey said. “How did Simon let her know he had it?”
How could he have communicated with her?
I gazed out the window at a small inlet of water on the land side of Pacific Coast Highway. A family of ducks was gliding across the water, the mother-or whichever parent-in the lead. I pictured their little webbed feet paddling away. And then it came to me. Here was my chance to make my move, one that’d ensure we got a message to Lilah.
“Easy,” I said. “Her parents.”
74
It was just an average house on an average street in Beverlywood, a neighborhood just south of Beverly Hills that, once upon a time, had been an upper-middle-class suburban enclave. But as the population grew, one neighborhood spilled into another, and the streets were no longer a place where young children played in the front yard or rode bikes to one another’s houses. That’s not to say it was a ghetto by any means, but it was frayed at the edges now, and the dangers of city life hovered more closely.
Guy and Pamela Rossmoyne looked like a matched pair. Of similar height, lean build, fair-skinned, and blue-eyed. Looking at Pam, I could see that at one time, she too had the mane of shining blue-black hair I’d noticed in Lilah’s photographs. Now it was dulled by age and unnaturally reddened by too many efforts at chemical enhancement. Her pinched features spoke of a lifetime of disappointment and bitter regret.
Though they’d been married for decades, to watch their behavior, you’d think they were two strangers waiting for a train. They didn’t touch or acknowledge each other in any way. Seated in separate matching wing chairs facing the sofa, they didn’t so much as look in each other’s direction.
Guy cleared his throat and leaned forward, speaking with a quiet intensity. “I only agreed to this meeting because I wanted you to know that Simon Bayer has harassed Lilah mercilessly over the past two years.”
Interesting how he repeatedly said “I,” not “we.” And I could already see why. While Guy seemed plenty exercised about it all, the way Pam was looking down at her hands said she was more concerned with her cuticles than the fact that her daughter was being harassed. Just minutes into the interview, I’d already learned a great deal about Lilah.
I couldn’t tell Guy that Simon was dead yet, so I couldn’t tell him he wouldn’t have to worry about the harassment anymore. But since his daughter likely had a hand in Simon’s murder, this didn’t weigh heavily on my conscience. “I didn’t know that,” I said. Though I believed and understood it.
Guy nodded. “For the first six months after the trial, he came by here every day.”
“What did he do?” I asked.
“He’d just sit outside, waiting for Lilah. Sometimes he’d leave letters for her.”
“And what would happen when he saw her?” I asked, making a mental note to get those letters when we finished the interview.
“He never did,” Pam replied. “She was never here. The minute she got out of custody, she left.”
“We told him she wasn’t here,” Guy said. “But he didn’t believe us. We called the police a few times, but they never did anything. Just gave him a ride back to…wherever.”
“Where’d she go?”
“I have no idea, I never asked,” Pam said breezily.
I believed her because she seemed happy not to know.
“She always did whatever she pleased, whenever and wherever she pleased,” Pam continued. “She didn’t want any reminders of that part of her life.”
It wasn’t just the words but the way she’d said them. It brought to mind what Rick had mentioned about Pam being jealous on many levels. I could hear them all in the line she’d just uttered. I also noticed that Guy looked away whenever Pam spoke. They had decidedly different feelings about Lilah, and probably everything else in their lives too.
“When was the last time Simon wrote to Lilah?” I asked.
“It’s been a while,” Guy said. “Maybe a year?”
Pam gave him a sharp look. It was the first time she’d acknowledged her husband since we’d arrived. Message received.
“Want to try again?” I asked.
Guy looked away, then gripped the arms of his chair till his knuckles went white. After a few moments, he answered.
“A month ago?” he said, peering up at the ceiling.
I looked at Pam for confirmation.
She nodded coldly.