G'Day USA Read online

  ‘Yech. No thanks. I’ll chance it.’ I crouched as I walked out from under the pier, dusting damp sand off my ass. ‘Hey, if I’d known I was going to bump into you so soon I would have brought that cloth back with me.’

  She gave me a clumsy wave of dismissal. ‘No, it’s okay.’

  It didn’t feel real. It was an age ago I walked the red carpet at the premiere of my movie, and it was only twelve hours later. Shit, what had I gotten myself into? I walked up the beach watching for any signs of attention. Muscle heads were oiling themselves in the early morning sun. I really shouldn’t laugh. They were as dedicated to their goals as I was to mine. It just seemed like a really silly goal, building muscle. And then not using it to move stuff. Just showing it off.

  A couple of bike cops pedaled down the beach walk, slowly taking in the early starters. I steeled myself for a run. If I could get to the water before they got me, I could out swim them.

  But they didn’t give me a second glance.

  Sure woke me up though. Forget about caffeine, a surge of adrenaline perks you right up.

  I finished my pee and headed back under the pier. Ann had left. I looked up and down the beach; there was no sign of her. It was a pretty open landscape. Almost impossible for normal person to disappear, and this was shaggy looking lady in six coats. If I saw her again - when I saw her again - I’d have to find out how she did that.

  I sat back against one of the pilings under the pier and took stock of my situation. I think I may have fucked myself over. In the cold, but warming, light of day some of my actions last night seemed reckless and ill-advised. Maybe the best thing would be to grab a bite and find Perkins and talk it out. I convinced him before. He knew me to be a straight-shooter. I’m sure I could convince him again. But I needed food first.

  And I didn’t have to worry about what I ate. I felt like a good old bacon and egg roll. Screw it. I didn’t need to get in a fancy gown tonight and it would be weeks before all this got sorted out.

  I kept to the “look like you belong” adage and rolled up the cuffs of my jeans and carried my shoes while I walked back up the beach. Dozens of little cafes were open for the early tourist business and until I found Perkins I’d keep a low profile and be one of the thousands who showed up here for the weirdness.

  I bought a bacon and fried egg on a roll, a large skinny cap and sat at one of the outdoor tables. The muscles preened. I’m sorry. I really think it’s silly. Some of the guys were pretty good looking but had way too much muscle. I mean, really. If the muscle prevents you from bending your arm enough to touch your shoulder, there’s too much muscle. Most of these guys had larger chests than I did. I squinted and looked closer. One of them was a woman. Shit. She was bigger than some of the guys. I smiled and shook my head. It took all kinds, and all kinds were definitely here.

  The bacon and egg roll disappeared in short order, not surprising when you consider the last meal I ate was a fruit bowl for breakfast yesterday. It hit the spot. I sat back and sipped on the coffee, relaxing into my situation. I was never afraid of a fight and I always faced my problems head on.

  But on my terms.

  And if I wasn’t careful I’d forfeit those terms.

  A familiar face was setting up for a day of busking. Danny Flynn moved from Boston three years ago, a year from finishing a law degree and as far as I know has spent every day on the beach since then.

  Juggling.

  And for the last six months, having breakfast with me.

  Shit. I pulled the cap farther down over my face. But it didn’t do any good.

  ‘Hey, Ell. What the hell you doing down this end of the beach? You move?’ He pulled out the chair opposite and sat. ‘What you having?’

  It was possible he hadn’t heard. Danny was almost perpetually in a state of semi-stonedness. If the audience knew how baked he was when he was tossing the bowling ball, bag of flour and running chainsaw they’d be standing a little bit further back. ‘I ate already, mate. What brings you down here? You’re a bit out of your area.’

  He shrugged. ‘Felt like I needed a bit of a change. We can still breakfast together, right?’

  I chuckled. ‘What do you want?’

  He ordered a plate of pancakes and pork sausages and a massive tumbler of grapefruit juice. His usual.

  I paid. As usual.

  ‘So, Danny boy, what’s new in your world?’

  ‘Hey, you cut your hair.’

  I lifted the cap for a minute and let him look. ‘You like?’

  ‘Kinda Anne Heche-y. You have a lesbian role next?’ He smiled.

  ‘You’d like that wouldn’t you?’ He was the biggest hands-off perv I knew.

  ‘It would make me go to a movie for the first time in five years, that’s for sure.’ He shoveled pancake in his mouth. ‘Saw some weird shit on the news last night about you. Or maybe I imagined it.’

  I shook my head. ‘You didn’t imagine it. It’s not true though.’

  He dismissed me with a wave from a fork dripping with syrup. ‘Of course it’s not. Just more media bullshit. This is why I left law school. Did you know that?’

  ‘You never told me, actually. I thought maybe you got caught with a really big bag of pot and got tossed out.’

  ‘Nah. Didn’t start smoking until I got down here. As far away from that place as possible without having to use a passport.’ He gulped grapefruit. ‘I got talking to some of the kids who graduated a couple of years before me. They were associates in various law firms in the area. All smart guys and girls. The girls were actually smarter, for some reason.’

  ‘I’m not surprised.’

  ‘Of course you aren’t.’ He worried something from his teeth with his tongue. ‘So anyway, to a person, everyone of them hated what they were doing. Those who chose the defense side of the coin told me about defending people who they absolutely knew were guilty of something. Sure, everyone is guaranteed a fair trial and a competent defense, but some of these things - how do you defend them? On the prosecution side they told me about the pressure to get the conviction. If a case was dodgy and they thought they didn’t have the evidence to convict, they’d bargain it down, even if there was doubt in their minds the perp was actually guilty.’

  ‘You could have gone corporate. Lots of money in that.’

  He shook his head. ‘I went into law because of Legal Eagles and LA Law and The Practice. Turns out none of that shit was real.’

  I had to laugh. ‘Of course it’s not. This is the land of make-believe. Even the reality shows aren’t real. There are as many writers on them as Modern Family. So you’re happy doing what you’re doing?’

  He waggled a sausage on the end of his fork. ‘Hell ya. I haven’t paid a cent of taxes in the last three years. I am completely off the grid. No driver’s license, no passport, no mobile phone. I pay cash rent to my very appreciative landlord and these guys,’ he jerked his thumb in the direction of the muscle-heads, ‘know where all the good pot is.’

  ‘And I give you free breakfast every day.’

  ‘Everyday you’re in town. You’ve been away a lot the last few months.’

  ‘I’ll tell Marty to have our breakfast written into my next contract.’

  He tilted his head at me. ‘I never know when you’re fucking with me.’ He wiped the last of the syrup with the last of his pancake. ‘So what’s this bullshit all about? Why do they think you offed this Sweeney dude?’

  ‘Jesus, mate. Keep your voice down.’

  ‘Ah, right. You’re on the lam. Apologies.’ He paused. ‘So?’

  ‘I don’t know. I was sitting on my balcony watching the sunset and reading a Gaiman novelette when it allegedly happened.’

  ‘Oh there’s no allegedly about it. It happened.’

  ‘Okay, when I allegedly did it.’

  ‘That’s better. So what are you going to do? What to join my show? You fund me to Hawaii and we can live a life of felonious leisure on the North Shore of the Big Island.’

 
; I shook my head. ‘I’m going to see the cop behind all this. Today. As soon as I finish this coffee.’

  ‘You’re nuts.’

  ‘What about my nuts?’

  ‘No, I said it with the apostrophe. And I’ve seen you in a bikini. No nuts. A bit if the toe of a camel, but no nuts.’

  I reached across the table and smacked him on the arm. ‘You’re horrible. And I’m not nuts. I can’t run from this forever. I shouldn’t have run last night.’

  ‘So why did you?

  ‘I don’t know. Freaked out. Marty called me to tell me the cops were waiting outside the theatre to talk to me and then a friend called to tell me it was worse than I thought it was.’

  ‘And how would he know?’

  ‘His ex- works at the station and she told him about the evidence they had. Pretty damning, but on reflection this morning, it can’t be real, because I didn’t do it.’

  ‘For what it’s worth, I believe you. But good luck getting the cops on your side. They have a philosophical bent to prosecution. I think you’re crazy to walk into the lion’s den.’

  ‘Maybe I’ll change my name to Daniel first.’

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘Never mind.’

  He wiped his face and hands with a paper napkin and balled it into his empty juice glass. ‘Off to work then. I have so much fun doing this. Yesterday I made a black guy from Mississippi take my chainsaw and chase a white guy from some conservative bastion of preppiness while I videotaped it. Near pissed myself laughing.’ He stood. ‘Stay safe, sweet cakes, and trust no one. Not even me.’

  I waved good-bye. The pot was making him even more paranoid than normal.

  I turned on my phone and checked the contacts. I was sure I still had Perkin’s number. Three messages came in, one after another.

  The first was from Marty:

  “What the hell, Ell? What are you thinking? This is going to be hard on your career. Mel Gibson hard. If you did it, if you didn’t do it, it doesn’t matter. Turn yourself in. Call me first though, but then turn yourself in.”

  What? If I did it? Jesus.

  The next was from Cathy. I hadn’t seen her in too long.

  “Now I wish I’d been at the premiere. I would have protected you from yourself. I know you didn’t do it. Can’t possibly believe you did, so they’re wrong. You’ve dealt with wrong cops before. Do it again. I’m back in LA. Call me and let’s figure this out.”

  Always reliable Cathy. And she was right. Perkins did run down the wrong track with my roommate’s death. I convinced him it wasn’t a suicide and he ended up arresting the right person: Bart Sweeney. I’d have to convince him he was wrong again.

  The third one was from Charlie. Considering I’d only seen him a couple of times in the last three years, it surprised me.

  “It’s me, Charlie Bates. Not sure if you’ve got my number in your phone. I know it’s been a while, but I thought you were smarter than this. Unless you’re trying to get yourself killed. Suicide by cop is stupid. But hey, what do I know? Killing Sweeney did a lot of us a favor. If you need somewhere to lay low, let me know.”

  Another vote from the peanut gallery. I contemplated a rude reply when the phone rang, startling me enough to drop it on the table.

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘Ellie, it’s Kent. What the hell is going on? Where are you?’

  ‘How long have you been calling me? I just turned on my phone.’

  ‘Lucked out. Where are you?’

  ‘Not important for you to know right now. Why did you call?’

  There was silence on the line save for keys clicking. Then he was back on the line. ‘I’m worried about you. You need to get somewhere safe.’

  ‘I’ll be somewhere safe in about thirty minutes.’

  ‘Great. Where?’

  ‘Police station on Devonshire, where I’ll have a nice long chat with Sergeant Perkins about this mess and hopefully get it all sorted out.’

  ‘Hell no. That would be the worse thing you could do.’

  ‘I don’t think so. I can talk to the guy.’

  ‘No, no, no. My friend in the station is telling me about the case they’re building. The fact you hit one of the cops with your car last night isn’t helping your cause. They’ve added assault of a law enforcement officer to your charges. It’s not looking good, Ell. Not even Perkins will be able to help you out. I understand he’s leading the charge anyway.’

  ‘How do you know I hit the cop? And I didn’t. Just missed him.’

  ‘It was in the news. And in the tabloids. And TMZ. And on Perez’s website. You’re a star.’

  ‘Lovely. And what do you mean, Perkins is leading the charge? Really? Hard to believe Perkins leading anything.’

  ‘Hey, I’m just repeating what I’m told. Let me snoop around. I’ll take my friend out for coffee and see what she knows. I’ll call you back at noon, okay? Leave your phone on in case I find something out earlier.’

  ‘I’ll shut it off. You call me at noon. I’ll turn it on then.’

  ‘Yeah, but what if I find something out earlier?’

  I thought about that. If he could get me information which could help, every minute would count. ‘Okay. Just make it fast, okay? I’m on half battery right now.’

  ‘Will do. Stay safe for me.’

  This wasn’t being done on my terms. I opened the settings on my phone, turned off Wi-Fi, turned off location services and turned off cellular data. I might get a couple of extra hours out of it.

  And now I needed to figure out what to do with myself for the next three or four hours. I could only wander the boardwalk for so long. I was a wanted crim.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Perkins called his partner over. ‘What have you found so far?’

  Stanfield scratched his chin. ‘I’ve had all of her haunts checked and nobody’s seen her. The bank account hasn’t been touched, but it’s early yet. I’ve got a warrant for the phone records and they’ve been asked to triangulate her position.’

  ‘When did it go in?’

  ‘It was just approved. Technically we should get something from them in about half an hour.’

  Perkins stood. ‘Good. Hate that it’s come to this, but she’s gone off her stick. Sweeney should never have been let out.’

  A voice responded behind him. ‘You’re right. He shouldn’t have.’

  Detective Sampson poured a coffee from a glass urn and sat across from Stanfield. ‘What have you found implicating her?’

  ‘Aside from the gun, matched by ballistics, an earring matching one in her apartment, and her hair at the scene, a witness placing her in the neighborhood in the time window of Sweeney’s death, nothing.’ Perkins smile was sad. ‘Got her dead cold.’

  ‘I know her, and she wouldn’t do this. She’s strong, but she’s not psychotic. Has anyone verified the witness sighting?’

  ‘Anonymous tip line. Haven’t confirmed anything yet. It’s a suburban neighborhood at 8:00 at night. We were lucky to get one witness.’

  ‘Exactly.’ Sampson sipped the coffee and winced. ‘Shit, this is worse than usual.’

  ‘“Exactly” what?’ Perkins crossed his arms. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘It’s too easy, don’t you think? A clumsy attempt at faking a suicide, one we both saw through in less than fifteen minutes, followed by a slam dunk case against a person with no alibi? If she did it, don’t you think she’d make sure she had an alibi?’

  Perkins dropped in his chair with a barked laugh. ‘Right. Using those criteria I’ll have to reopen over half my cases. Sometimes it’s not an episode of Castle. Sometimes it’s just a straight forward murder.’ He scratched his nose. ‘And I’ve got no idea if she’s got an alibi. She ran. Almost killed a cop. Sure sign of guilt.’

  Samson sighed. ‘Didn’t even touch him. And if he was in a bit better shape he could have gotten out of the way.’

  Perkins shrugged. ‘It’s a pattern of behavior. Hey, I like the kid too. She made a fool of me back
then, but I’m a big enough man to admit when I’m wrong.’

  Stanfield snickered. ‘I’ll say you’re big enough.’

  ‘Shut up kid or you’ll see what my fist feels like.’

  ‘“See” what it “feels” like? That makes absolutely no sense. How am I going to see what something feels like?’ Stanfield redirected his attention to his computer. ‘Incoming fax from the telco.’ He printed a couple of copies of the pages and tossed a copy on Perkins’ desk.

  The Sergeant put on his glasses and looked at the call log handed to him. ‘What do we have here? Incoming call, text message, outgoing call all around the time we were at the theatre. A few more incoming, one from the agent - I was beside him when he made that call - and another one from Kent Williams.’ He looked at his junior partner. ‘Get his particulars. I think we need to have a chat with him.’

  He scanned down the page. ‘A couple more incoming and a mess of text messages. Why don’t we have the contents of the text messages?’

  ‘Can’t get the contents with this warrant. Did you look at the triangulation?’

  Perkins looked at the second page, Sampson looking over his shoulder. ‘Is she crazy?’ He flipped the page over. ‘Is this the most current location?’

  The green dot on the map turned gray and the Killer kicked back his chair and swore. ‘Fucking bitch. Motherfucking stuck-up bitch.’

  He took a deep breath. ‘Calm yourself. This is merely a simple, small setback.’ He drummed his fingers on the arms of the chair and thought about next steps. That was the corporate lingo, he heard. Next steps and synergistic blah blah blah.

  No matter.

  He dialed the number. ‘Now is the time. You need to do it now. Go to the station. Tell them your story. Ask specifically for Perkins.’

  ‘But I’ve already told them what I saw.’

  ‘It was on an anonymous tip line. You need to put a face to it.’ The Killer took a deep breath. ‘Remember what’s in it for you if you do what I tell you. And remember what happens if you don’t.’

  The Killer heard a sigh, then, ‘You don’t have to tell me. Okay. I’ll do it.’