CHAPTER SIX
Jessie shouldn’t have been surprised by now, and yet she couldn’t help but marvel.
It had only taken her and Karen twenty minutes to get from Lauren Mitchell’s house to downtown Central Station, where HSS was headquartered.
But by the time they walked into the research department, which was essentially one small room with a half dozen computers, the two people there already had a plethora of information to share.
“There’s no formal record of any kind of disputes between Jason Mannix and Lauren Mitchell,” Jamil Winslow said the moment they came in. “No calls for officers to come to the house because of domestic disputes. No restraining orders. No neighbors complaining about shouting voices.”
“Good morning, Jamil,” Jessie said, unable to fight off a smile.
“Oh, sorry. Hi.”
Jamil wasn’t known for his personable nature. His relentless, driven demeanor, combined with his introverted disposition, sometimes left a little to be desired on the social front.
What he was known for was his brilliance when it came to research.
At only 25, he was the head of the two-person department for a reason.
He was capable of filtering through massive databases, sorting surveillance video into manageable buckets, or making complex financial records understandable, all seemingly in the blink of an eye, often on little sleep.
“I’m just giving you a hard time,” Jessie told him. “I know it hasn’t been very long, but did you uncover any other avenues worth pursuing?”
“Actually, yes,” Beth replied with a broad smile, “and good morning to both of you.”
“Now that’s what I’m talking about,” Jessie said enthusiastically.
She expected nothing less from Beth Ryerson.
Also, 25, she more than compensated for her supervisor's reserved demeanor with her outgoing one. Her perpetually chill, friendly vibe was a total contrast to Jamil’s constant, jittery intensity.
But she wasn’t just here for her sunny disposition.
Her casual demeanor masked an especially sharp mind, which people tended to underestimate.
“What did you find?” Karen asked her.
"We've already plugged Lauren Mitchell's entire social media history into the system. It's doing a deep scrub right now, looking for any language triggers that might suggest a threat. No luck yet, but we just started. Same thing with her phone. If she got any threatening texts, we'll find them."
"Great," Jessie said, before a thought occurred to her.
"I know it's a long shot, but maybe while you're at it, you can also search to see if there's any special reason that she kept her maiden name.
I know that's not unusual these days. Hell, I did it.
But sometimes that can be a source of conflict for a couple. "
“Will do,” Beth said, furiously typing away.
“I have a straightforward theory on that one, “Karen volunteered. “With all her followers on social media and how established she is as a realtor, I’d bet that Mitchell thought that changing her name might just confuse people and mess with her brand.”
Jessie tended to agree. Unless it was a personal priority for Mitchell, changing her name would have made less sense professionally than keeping it.
"I'm getting a few hits from online comments on her videos," Jamil said.
"There are some who say that she's a bad role model because of how she speaks and behaves. A few say that her humor is in bad taste. A couple says she's not talented enough to sell homes on their merits without a gimmick. But nothing jumps off the screen as being overtly threatening. And none of the people who made the disparaging comments did so more than once. We still have about 15% of the comments that haven’t been processed, but it’s not looking promising as far as leads.”
Jessie was about to ask if they should expand the filters when there was a knock on the door. She turned around to find her husband standing there, smiling broadly at her. When he spoke, he addressed everyone.
“How’s it going, gang?” he asked as he rubbed his dark, short-cropped hair.
Jessie permitted her herself a moment to ogle him.
His kind brown eyes, shy grin, and adorable dimples—the features that had first attracted her to him—were on full display.
So too were some of his other attributes, which included a square jaw and a well-muscled, two-hundred pound, six-foot-tall body that strained at his dress shirt.
The sight of him still filled her with a double hit of warmth and excitement.
“I thought you were out working a case,” she said, leaning in to give him a semi-professional kiss on the cheek, though she would have preferred to be more aggressive with him.
“I am,” he said. “Nettles and I are about to head out to question a witness, but I heard you two had arrived, so I thought I’d stop by to say ‘hi’ before I left.”
“Hi,” Karen and Beth said in unison. Jamil, his eyes focused on the monitor in front of him, said nothing.
“Hi,” Jessie said coquettishly.
“What has gotten into you?’ he asked, blushing slightly.
“I’m just happy to see my husband,” she said, pretending to pout as she stroked his rippling forearm. “Is that not allowed?”
“Definitely allowed,” he said, clearly delighted.
“Take it outside, you two,” Karen barked playfully.
“Actually, I do have a private question for you,” Jessie said, leading him out into the hall.
“What is it?” he asked with such eagerness that she realized she’d given him the wrong impression.
“It’s not that kind of question,” she told him. “I’ll save something more provocative for when we’re home. This is case-related.”
“Okay.” He tried and failed to hide his disappointment.
“Did it ever bother you that I didn’t change my name when we got married?”
He looked surprised and a little confused by the question.
“I thought we resolved this well before the wedding,” he said. “Remember, my mom was hoping you would because of how traditional she is. But it was never an issue for me. Frankly, I would have been astonished if you wanted to. Why do you ask?”
“Hey!” Beth shouted from the research room. “I think I found something.”
Jessie did her best not to vault back in there.
“No reason,” she told Ryan quickly, giving him another kiss, only this time longer and on the lips. “I’ll catch you later, Detective.”
She darted back in the room, where Karen was leaning over Beth’s monitor as they both looked at her screen.
“What is it?” Jessie asked, joining them.
“According to Lauren Mitchell’s text messages, it looks like one of the former realtors at her company wasn’t as enthused about her success as everyone else.”
“Who?” Jessie asked.
“His name is David Lamb,” Beth explained. “Based on what I’m finding, he and Lauren used to have their own boutique agency for three years before they joined up with Griffin-Malone, which is significantly bigger. They service a larger area, including Hancock Park and Larchmont.”
“Sounds normal, so far,” Karen noted.
“It was, until about nine months ago. That’s when Lamb left the company and struck out on his own with Lamb Realty.
But it doesn’t seem like it was an amicable separation.
In the time since they parted ways, he has sent her over three dozen texts.
Most of them are boring minutiae bout the mechanics of untangling their professional collaboration.
But over the last month, they’ve gotten more hostile. ”
“How hostile?” Jessie asked.
Beth sighed heavily before diving in.
“Here are just a few: you don’t deserve your success.
You’re a flash in the pan. Or this: Your clients are wannabes, not worth having.
And then the messages get more aggressive: You should be ashamed of what you’ve done to our business.
Someone should put you in your place. There are a lot like that.
And then just last week: One of these days, karma is going to get you.
Or maybe someone will expedite it. Payback is a bitch, just like you.
Jessie looked over at Karen, whose eyes were gleaming with excitement.
“Looks like someone has some anger management issues,” she said.
Jessie felt a twinge of guilt mixed with anxiety. She wondered if Lamb’s issues were as involved as her own. If they were, then he might be their guy.
“Okay,” she said. “You guys keep working her correspondence. Maybe dive into her financials while you’re at it. Karen and I have a suspect to visit.”