The Perfect Affair. Блейк Пирс
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do what we’ve got to do,” she said, shrugging. “Besides, for my last case I was assigned to work with Trembley, who—no offense—isn’t exactly my dream partner.”
“Hey,” Ryan mock-protested. “Detective Alan Trembley is a solid professional and you should be honored to work with him on any case you’re assigned.”
“He’s quite boring.”
“I resent that on his behalf,” he said, trying to scowl. “Besides, not having you with me allows me to plan your birthday without you hovering.”
“You’re planning something for me?” Jessie asked, genuinely surprised. “I didn’t even know you knew when it was.”
“I’m a detective, Jessie. That’s kind of in my wheelhouse. I wouldn’t even mention it except that I need you to make sure your schedule is clear on Thursday evening. Cool?”
“Cool,” she agreed, blushing slightly.
He smiled back and she felt a rush of warmth come over her. Someone going to the trouble to learn her birthday and organize something for it would normally have made Jessie illogically anxious. But somehow, because it was Ryan, she felt comfortable with the idea, even excited.
She wondered if he might be planning an early gift of an intimate nature for her tonight. She was about to hint at the idea when his phone rang. She didn’t recognize the ringtone. Whoever it was caused Ryan to frown. He mouthed sorry as he picked up.
“Detective Hernandez,” he said.
Jessie watched as Ryan listened to the voice on the other end of the line. The frown on his face became more pronounced with each passing moment. After waiting silently for about thirty seconds, he finally responded.
“But Valley Division’s already there. Won’t it be too late?”
He was quiet as the other person responded. After another twenty seconds, he spoke again.
“I understand. I’m on it.”
Then he hung up. He stared at the phone for a moment as if it might speak directly to him. When he looked up, his eyes were steely.
“I hate to do this but we have to skip dessert. I have to check out a crime scene and if we don’t leave now, it might be too late.”
Jessie had rarely seen Ryan look so uneasy. He waved at the server to get her attention, handing her a pile of bills from his wallet when she hurried over.
“Too late?” Jessie asked. “What does that mean?”
Ryan stood up and indicated that she should do the same. He was already headed for the stairs when he replied.
“I’ll explain on the way.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Jessie forced herself to wait.
Whatever this was about, it had Ryan on edge and she didn’t want to make it worse. She sat quietly in the passenger seat, allowing him to reveal what was going on when he felt comfortable.
“Are you sure you’re okay coming?” he asked again.
“Yes,” she assured him. “I texted Hannah that a case came up and that she shouldn’t expect me back before she goes to bed. We’re good.”
“You could have rideshared from the restaurant,” he reminded her.
“I wanted to come, Ryan,” she insisted, again biting her tongue despite the desire to ask additional questions.
He continued west on Ventura Boulevard deeper into the Valley. After another ten seconds of silence, he finally began to speak.
“So here’s the deal. I have a contact in the department who will occasionally alert me to cases I should be aware of.”
“Could you be a little more cryptic?” Jessie asked, unable to contain herself.
“I actually don’t have much more than that to share,” he said, ignoring her snark. “About four years ago, I got a call from a burner phone. The voice was digitally manipulated. The caller suggested that the prime suspect in the murder of a wealthy businessman was being set up and that I should look at political motivations for the killing.”
“This call just came out of the blue?” she asked.
“Yep. I was a junior grade detective without much to lose so I followed it up. The case was about to be closed. But I started asking questions and pretty quickly, the whole thing unraveled. It turned out that the businessman was a major supporter and fundraiser for a local city councilman. Once he died, the councilman’s funding dried up. His challenger was able to overwhelm him financially and won the seat. In the end, we realized the challenger for the seat had hired someone to take out the businessman for exactly that reason, to kneecap the incumbent’s primary source of financial support. He also had the original suspect framed so it would look like a random robbery gone wrong.”
“How did your contact know all that?”
“I have no idea. I’m not even sure the source knew the extent of the thing. I got the sense that the person, who I started calling Chatty Cathy, knew something was off, even if the details were hazy.”
“Is the source a woman?”
“No way to tell,” Ryan admitted. “But for the purpose of giving them a name, let’s say yes. Anyway, I started to get additional calls after that. Not often, maybe twice a year. They were always from burners using digital voice masking. And they almost always involved cases that seemed open and shut, but upon further investigation, were more complicated.”
“So Chatty Cathy is some sort of guardian against injustice?”
“Maybe,” Ryan said, not sounding as confident. “Or it could be something else. I’ve noticed that in most of these cases, the real story is messy and makes people in positions of power look bad. A lot of times, I think our higher-ups would rather go for the easy answer than get into the muck of uncovering crimes that might implicate folks with influence. By calling me, Chatty Cathy gets to raise the alarm about questionable cases without getting herself dirty or putting her career at risk. The goal may be noble but I think there’s some self-interest involved too.”
“So what about this case made her reach out?”
“I don’t know,” Ryan said as he turned right off Ventura Boulevard onto Coldwater Canyon Avenue. “She never tells me why a case is sketchy, just that it is. All I know is that a woman was murdered in the thirteen thousand block of Bessemer Street in Van Nuys. She was stabbed multiple times in the torso. The preliminary theory is that it was a robbery gone wrong; that the burglar didn’t think anyone was home and attacked the resident upon finding her.”
“Do they have a suspect?”
“They don’t,” Ryan said. “But according to Chatty Cathy, things are moving fast. The nine-one-one call only came in about a half hour ago and the coroner is already on scene, preparing to remove the body.”
“The detectives are okay with that?” Jessie asked, incredulous.
“My understanding is that they aren’t even there yet. The senior uniformed officer gave the order.”
“What?” Jessie said, dumbfounded. “That’ll compromise the crime scene. Can we stop that?”
“That’s why I said we had to leave right away,” Ryan replied. “Chatty Cathy said the coroner was trying to slow down the process but that we have about ten minutes before they have no choice but to bag the body.”
“How far away are we?” Jessie asked.
“Not far,” Ryan said as he turned onto a residential street doused in flashing lights. “It’s that building halfway up the block.”
They parked a few doors down and got out. Hurrying over, Jessie couldn’t help but notice that despite the lights, there weren’t as many vehicles as she would have expected. There was the coroner’s van, an ambulance, and two squad cars.