Chapter 26
"You want to tell me exactly what you boys are doing?” the officer asked.
"Just visiting," I replied.
“I got a call that two deputies from Florida have been asking questions about Vivian Steele.”
"Is that illegal?"
"Nope, as long as you stay in your lane. To be honest, I would have appreciated a phone call. It's only common courtesy.”
"This isn't West Beverly,” I said.
She gave me a flat look. "Vivian is our case, and it's closed.”
"Who called you?” I asked.
"It doesn't matter who called me.”
I had a few ideas.
"We’re more than happy to share any information we dig up."
"I would expect nothing less. But you're digging in the wrong place.”
"Where should we dig?”
"Back in Florida. You’re wasting your time here.”
"Is that a threat?"
The officer smiled. "Why would you take that as a threat? Merely a suggestion. What do you think you can accomplish here anyway?”
I shrugged. "I'm sorry, I didn't get your name?”
"Mitchell. Detective Sharon Mitchell.”
"It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Tyson Wild. This is my partner, Jack Donovan.”
We shook hands and exchanged pleasantries, although she wasn't too pleasant.
"How long will you be staying in town?”
"I'm not sure. Jack's here to visit his daughter. We thought we'd come out and enjoy some of the nice weather and California sunshine.”
"It's been a little gloomy lately. You got lucky, though. Seems to have burned off. At least for today.”
"I suppose it would be a little too much to ask to see the official case file or get a list of suspects," I said.
“You’re wasting your time. Lucas Reed killed Vivian Steele. It’s not up for debate.”
“I’d love to see the ballistics report.”
“And I’d love to win the lottery, but that’s not going to happen.”
“How about we grab a drink and talk about the case?”
“It’s the middle of the afternoon.”
“So, you want to have a drink later?”
“I don’t want to have a drink at all,” Sharon said, growing annoyed.
“How about a smoothie? There has to be a juice bar around here somewhere.”
“I have work to do. Enjoy your vacation. Try to stay out of trouble.” She walked off.
I chased after her. “Here, take my card.”
She looked at me with disgust.
“In case you change your mind.”
“About the drink or the case?”
“Either,” I said with a charming smile.
She finally took the card. “I’m not changing my mind.”
“You should give me your direct line, in case anything comes up.”
She gave me a skeptical look, then spewed her digits.
Sharon sauntered down the sidewalk, and I returned to JD. I entered her number in my phone as she disappeared around the corner. Then we walked back toward the Ferrari.
JD muttered, “That’s a little odd, don’t you think? She shows up here out of the blue. Somebody’s got the West Beverly PD on the payroll.”
Sharon’s visit only increased my belief in a cover-up.
The Ferrari was still there when we arrived. We hopped in, and Jack cranked up the engine.
Isabella buzzed my phone. "I’ve got something interesting for you. There was a burglary the night of Vivan’s murder a few blocks from her home. No one was apprehended. Might want to talk to the homeowner." She gave me the name and address.
“You think you can get the ballistics report?”
“You want me to hack the West Beverly Police Department?”
“I wouldn’t suggest anything like that,” I said innocently.
“I’ll see what I can do.”
I thanked her, and we headed toward West Beverly.
It wasn't long before we were rolling through the mansions.
Idyllic streets with tall palm trees and sycamores swaying with the breeze.
The sidewalks were smooth, and the lawns perfectly manicured.
Trimmed hedges and decorative landscaping.
The elegant French- and Tuscan-inspired homes were built in the late 1920s.
We rolled past Vivian's house, and Jack slowed.
It was a two-story mansion with cream stucco and decorative molding.
It had a low-pitched roof and gray-beige shingles.
Large windows with dark frames and wrought-iron Juliet balconies lined the second floor.
A grand arch crowned the main doorway, flanked by carriage lights.
A wrought-iron gate with stucco pilasters kept the undesirables out.
Tall hedgerows provided privacy from the neighbors.
Despite Vivian's absence, someone had still maintained the lawn.
With the trees and shrubs, there were plenty of places to hide at night. It would have been easy for someone to step out of the shadows and shoot the talent agent as she pulled into the driveway, waiting for her gate to open.
Jack kept driving and parked at the curb a few houses down.
This neighborhood was a stark contrast to the apartment building where Lucas Reed lived.
Jack killed the engine, and we hopped out of the car. We strolled the short walkway to the gate, and I rang the buzzer. Two casual guys in a neighborhood like this didn't look out of place. Especially driving a red Ferrari.
A voice crackled through the speaker a moment later. "Can I help you?"
I presented my badge to the lens and said, "County sheriff. We have a few questions about the burglary.”
The line disconnected, and the gate buzzed open. We pushed inside and continued up the walkway to the front porch.
The home was similar to Vivian's, but had more of a Spanish influence with orange tile. A small villa. Maybe not so small.
It was late afternoon, but most of the people in this neighborhood didn't have regular jobs. Nobody in LA seemed to keep real hours. Restaurants were packed no matter what time of day. I figured they couldn't all have TV shows.
Jeff greeted us at the door. He was in his late 30s with wavy brown hair that hung just over his ears. “Thanks for stopping by. Have you found something?”
I shook my head.
Jeff frowned.
"Can you tell me what was stolen?" I asked.
"I already gave the West Beverly PD that information."
"We're running a parallel investigation. Any information you can share would be helpful."
"Sure. It's not like they've done much.” Jeff took a deep breath as he thought. “Well, the thief took some of my wife's jewelry, some cash, a camera, and a gun." He said the last part without thinking, and concern instantly filled his face.
I picked up on it. "All of this was reported?"
Jeff's mouth tightened. "Everything except the gun.”
"Why is that?”
He hesitated for a second. "I should probably keep my mouth shut. I don't want to get in trouble.”
"I'm just interested in tracking down the person who murdered Vivian Steele. I think there might be a connection to the burglary."
His brow knitted. "You think it was the same person?”
I shrugged. "Could have been. If it makes you feel better, we’re from out of state. I'm not looking to bust you because you were in possession of an illegal firearm," I said, taking a guess at the reason behind his hesitancy.
Jeff breathed easier. "Well, it was my dad's gun. I didn't want to let it go. It had sentimental value." Jeff inhaled. "Let's just say I made a few bad choices in my youth that left me with a permanent record."
I figured he was a convicted felon. "Seems like you turned your life around.”
He nodded. "Absolutely. Anyway, I didn’t report the gun stolen at the time. I figured with the way West Beverly is, they'd at least try to fine me.” Panic filled his eyes as he connected the dots. “You don’t think my gun was used to kill Vivian, do you?”
I shrugged. "Do you have the serial number of the weapon?”
"No. It was an old gun. I don't know if it even had a serial. It was passed down to my dad from his father. He got it during the war off a German soldier he killed.”
“What type of pistol?”
“A Luger P08.”
I shared a look with Jack.
"You think there's any chance of getting it back? I'd really like to have it."
"At this point, the odds are pretty slim. And if it's in the possession of the West Beverly Police Department, you might have a hard time getting that pistol back. Given your status, I’d leave it be. Sorry.”
Jeff frowned. "I mean, it's not like I'm going to commit a crime. I'm a good upstanding member of the community these days. One stupid mistake as a kid.”
"What do you do for a living?"
"I'm a cinematographer. But work is starting to slow down lately. Hope it picks up."
"I’d like to see footage from your video doorbell, if you have any," I said.
"Sure. Let me get that for you. He pulled out his phone, launched the app, and searched for the clip. "I had saved it after the incident and gave a copy to the police." He pulled it up on his phone and showed it to me and Jack.
Despite being high definition, it was dark and somewhat grainy. The camera caught an angle of someone wearing dark clothes and a hat. A surgical mask covered their face. Sunglasses covered their eyes.
The footage was time-stamped 9:33 PM, within the window of Vivian’s death.
I noticed something interesting about the footage right away.