She oozed another smile at Alex. “I told the police I saw the suspect around here a lot.”
Alex made a show of taking out his notepad, even though his pocket recorder was on. It was a trick I’d learned early in my career, and I’d taught it to Alex yesterday. Those recordings stay secret; I use them only to beef up the notes I take in front of the witness. Nothing that hurts my client gets written down, because if I wind up calling the witness, I have to turn over a report of what they said. And it looks better to the jury if they see that we take written statements just like the cops do. Well, sort of like the cops do.
Alex took out his pen. “Did you see Dale Pearson on the night of the murder?”
“No. I was at Hyde Lounge that night.”
In her dreams. Just like the fantasy age she’d given the police. Nikki had left thirty-five behind at least ten hard years ago. And there was no way she was hanging out at a club as pricey as Hyde Lounge.
But Alex gave her a twinkle of a smile. “Hyde Lounge. Very cool. Do you remember when you first met Dale Pearson?”
She pouted and pulled on her lower lip. “About two months ago? I ran into him behind the building. The parking areas are next to each other.”
“How did you know who he was?”
“Because he told me. I figured he’d just moved in, so I introduced myself. You know, being a good neighbor and all.”
And probably hoping to be a really great neighbor.
Alex gave her an understanding smile. “Was he friendly?”
Nikki made a face. “No. He was kind of rude. Told me he was in a hurry and said to have a nice day.”
“When was the next time you saw him?”
“Maybe a week? Two weeks later? I saw him drive past my place, heading east on Hollywood Boulevard, then he turned around and drove back toward Chloe’s place.”
“How did he look? Happy? Sad? Upset?”
“He looked… intense. Like he was searching for something. Or for someone.” She gave Alex a meaningful look.
“Who do you think he was looking for?”
Nikki gave an elaborate shrug that hiked her sweatshirt up enough to show the bottom of her bra. It was an act that couldn’t have found a less interested audience, which amused the hell out of me. And Alex-gotta hand it to him-played the part beautifully, giving her the eye bounce she’d aimed for. This boy was a natural.
Nikki gave a pouty frown. “I don’t know. Another guy, maybe? It seemed kind of stalk-y to me.”
Huh? So he was driving up and down the street to… what? Catch his rival? Wouldn’t it be simpler to just park outside her building?
“When did you see him next?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe a week? Two weeks later? Same thing. It happened a couple more times. And he had this… look on his face. It was kind of scary.”
My bullshit-o-meter was in the red zone. I had to jump in. “By scary, do you mean angry?”
Nikki glanced at me, then turned back to Alex. “Creepier than that.” She gave a little shiver. “But it was angry, too. That’s why I thought he was, like, suspicious of Chloe.”
I could definitely see why the acting career hadn’t taken off. “Do you know if anyone else in the building noticed Dale Pearson looking like that?”
She barely glanced at me as she answered. “I think Sheila did. Sheila Wagner. She’s in 2C.” Nikki jerked a thumb at the ceiling.
I didn’t remember reading about any Sheila Wagners in the police reports. “What did she tell you about Dale?”
I’d asked one too many questions. Nikki frowned at me. “Hey, who are you guys?”
Alex stepped in with an extra dose of smooth. “I’m sorry, Nikki. I thought we told you already. We work for the defense.” He pulled out a card. “Here you go.”
She took the card. It was one of mine. I hadn’t had time to make cards for Alex yet. Nikki looked at me, her eyes narrowed. “You guys are on his side?”
Busted at last. “I’m his lawyer. Alex is-”
“I’m an investigator.” Alex stood up and we headed for the door. He paused at the entry and gave her a buttery smile. “If you think of anything else, please feel free to call. Anytime.”
I watched the tug-of-war on her face. Distaste for the sleazy defense lawyer fought with desire for the gorgeous investigator. Gorgeous investigator won.
As we moved down the sidewalk, Nikki leaned against the doorjamb and gave Alex her best sex-kitten smile. “I’ll definitely do that.”
Alex waved to her. I kept walking until I heard the door close, then stopped. “Nice job, Alex. Good to know you’re willing to slut it up for the team.”
“You kidding? That was nothing. I sold high-end cars, remember?”
SEVENTEEN
We knocked on the door of apartment 2C, but Sheila Wagner didn’t answer.
I was leaning in, trying to listen for signs of life, when the door to apartment 2D opened and a young guy, barefoot and naked to the waist in low-slung jeans, stepped out. A cigarette hung from the corner of his mouth, and his hazel eyes squinted at us above the smoke. He was hot in that dirty, up-against-the-wall kind of way. Back in my high school days, I would’ve gone for this guy in a fast second. His eyes flicked off Alex and landed on me. I was happy to take my turn to slut it up for the team.
I gave him a smile. “We’re looking for Sheila Wagner.”
“You probation officers?” I started to shake my head, but he laughed. “Joking. Sheila’s, like, a nun.”
In this neighborhood? “A nun?”
He gave a little chuckle. “No. She’s a librarian. But same difference, right? She’s probably just out walking her dog. Give it a few; she’ll be back.”
“Actually, we’re here to talk to people about Dale Pearson.”
“Dale.” He took a long pull from his cigarette and blew it out through the corner of his mouth. “Am I supposed to know him?”
“He’s the one they arrested for the murders.” He still looked puzzled. “Of Chloe and Paige.”
He nodded slowly. “You guys don’t look like cops.” I told him who we were. He nodded. “Nah, I never saw the dude. Saw Chloe, though. We had drinks a couple of times when I first moved in.”
“And?”
He looked out at the street. “She was a nice girl but a mess. There was something, I don’t know… broken about her.” He took another drag of his cigarette. “Like she’d seen too much in too few years.”
It was a much more nuanced insight than I’d have expected from this guy. And I got the reference. “The Stones. ‘19th Nervous Breakdown.’ You a musician?”
He nodded appreciatively as he looked me up and down. “Trying to be.”
I pushed down the electric surge from that look.
A female voice from inside his apartment called out. “Babe? What’s going on?”
He gave me a slow smile. “Duty calls.”
I held out my card. “Just in case you think of something.”
He took the card and glanced at it. “Or in case I get in trouble?”
“Or that.”
As he went back inside, I heard the skittering of dog toenails scratching up the walkway. A medium-size chocolate pit bull on a leash came into view. At the other end of the leash was a slender woman with long, almost waist-length brown hair. “Sheila?”
“Yes. Can I help you?” She looked flushed and a lot younger than I’d expected. Late twenties at most. The name Sheila seemed like it should belong to someone in her sixties at least.
I told her who we were. She gave a little frown. “Didn’t the police put my statement in a report?”
So the cops had spoken to her. I noticed her dog was sniffing at my boots. I took a step back just in case he decided to get a little more intimate. “Not that I saw. I got your name from Nikki.”