'There's a Christmas tree in the living room with unopened presents under it.'
He didn't bother answering as he continued to search for the right key.
'It's almost Christmas,' I persisted. 'That tells me somebody is living here.'
He finally found one that worked, slipped it in, and twisted the padlock open. Then, once it was off, he turned and grimaced at me, exposing teeth almost the size and color of yellowing piano keys.
'Nobody lives in this house' he said, enunciating each word slowly and carefully, as if speaking to a three- year-old child or an idiot. 'That tree has been there since we purchased this property in eighty-two.'
'Really?' I said. 'If it had been up almost thirty years wouldn't it be nothing but twigs by now?'
'It's synthetic. It was up and the presents were all there when the house was sold to us. The Dorothy White Foundation bought the property as a real estate investment for the Dunbar family. Then, when Brooks was born, I was asked to do some estate planning and the foundation was transferred into his portfolio along with this mansion. Since we were holding the property for long-term capital gain, we never bothered to clean out the house. Does that answer all your questions?' Without waiting for a reply, he turned the knob on the back door and pushed it open.
We entered into a kitchen pantry. There was easily an eighth of an inch of dust on the linoleum floor. Several sets of footsteps were tracked in the dust.
'Somebody's been inside recently,' I said, pointing at the tracks.
'The security company comes in to service the video surveillance. I'm sure the tracks will only lead to the laundry room downstairs where the equipment is.'
He led the way down to the laundry room. As it turned out, he was right. The tracks led to the basement, where we found a new surveillance DVR and monitor mounted on a bracket near a laundry table.
Jeb walked over and shut it off, then said. 'How long is this set to record?'
'Almost a month. I think the company said it works on motion detection.' Stender Sheedy Sr. frowned at his watch.
'I'd like to take a look around in here,' I said.
Tm trying to cooperate,' he said. 'I realize three people died out by the pool. It s painfully apparent to me and to Thayer that young Brooks must have been secretly renting out this backyard to obtain extra money for his extravagant social habits. But even so, he was only making the backyard available and with that fact in view, I would suggest you confine your murder investigation to the pool area and keep the house out of it. I represent Thayer Dunbar, who intends to hold this property until Brooks is thirty-five. Then it will eventually be rehabbed and sold. He does not want the house included as part of your crime scene.'
'Three people died here last night,' I said.
'No. They died in the backyard.' Then he heaved a theatrical sigh and began humoring us. 'I'm sure it's not lost on you that many buyers are superstitious about houses, especially ones that have been involved in horrible murders. Once a house is rumored to be haunted the price drops precipitously. The backyard is one thing, but if the house becomes part of the investigation it could cost the Dorothy White Foundation a good deal of money.'
'All of which means what?' I asked.
'I'm asking you not to create a problem where one need not exist.'
'You mean, we'll have to get a warrant if we want to look around in here.'
'I didn't say that. What I said was, please don't needlessly compromise this real estate investment.'
We all stood locked in a stalemate. Then Jeb made a decision.
'Shane, let's start by looking at the surveillance video. If the shooter is on there, maybe this can just get wrapped up fast, like we all want.'
'If that's your call, Captain,' I said. Hitch shifted his weight and when I looked over at him I could see that, like me, he was uncomfortable with this.
'That's my call,' Calloway replied stiffly.
I could tell by his voice that Jeb didn't like it either, but Thayer Dunbar and Stender Sheedy were part of L. A.'s power elite. They could pick up the phone and call people the three of us only read about in the paper.
We took the DVR into evidence and left without searching the house, although on the way upstairs from the basement I arranged to get myself lost for a minute so I could check out the Christmas tree. It was synthetic, just as Stender Sheedy Sr. had said. Everything, including the unopened presents, was covered in dust.
'You coming?' Jeb called out to me.
'Yeah, sorry, I thought this was the way out,' I fibbed.
Stender locked the door and returned to his Century City law firm.
We returned to Jeb's office downtown and set up to watch the video.
You wouldn't believe what was on there.
Chapter 17
Dahlia Wilkes came directly from the courthouse, where she was prosecuting a murder. When she arrived she was breathless from hurrying, trailing dangerous wisps of her hunter-killer personality like noxious fumes from a city bus. She was a thirty-six-year-old, drop-dead gorgeous African-American woman who didn't give anyone time to appreciate her beauty because she was always in your face before you even got a chance to smile. We all knew one another from past cases. The Black Dahlia got convictions but gave heartburn.
'I hope you two detectives have finally catalogued all of my missing Makarov nines,' she said, before hellos were even exchanged.
'We've found fourteen more, so far,' I said. 'Plus the twenty CSI got last night and the nine that got parked in the three vies. That's forty-three total.'
'I can do math, Detective.'
'I didn't say you couldn't.'
'How 'bout the brass?' she asked.
'Forty-five cartridges,' I said.
'So you're still missing nineteen.' We nodded. 'If this guy, Carl Sladky, is our doer, I want to lock him up fast.' She was looking at the monitor while Jeb fiddled with the DVR.
'Karel,' I corrected.
'I'm sorry, were you saying something?'
She turned around and fixed coal black eyes on me. She was a real pistol, this one. I looked to Hitch. Since she was African-American, I figured maybe he might have some ethnic traction.
He picked up on my look and turned to her. 'Ms. Wilkes, what my partner was saying is the man's name is not Carl, it's Kar-el, with a K and an E. Czechoslovakian.'
'Then why didn't you say that?' she demanded.
'We just did,' he replied.
'Stop babbling and play back the video. I'm on a short trial recess and my judge is a flaming asshole.'
Jeb finally accessed the correct file and brought up the video. The initial image showed the gardeners working around the empty pool area early in the day. There was a time and date code running across the bottom of the screen. We fast-forwarded and then slowed the playback.
Yolanda Dublin and Yeo-Sing were the first to appear at a little past three P. M. We watched as they unloaded, put up a few decorations, and left.
Then a caterer arrived at six, set up buffet tables and a bar beside the pool and carried warming trays and food containers into the pool house before driving off.
Around eight P. M. Yolanda and Yeo-Sing returned, unpacked the food containers, and set out the hors d'oeuvres.
At nine, the gowned, beautiful girls of the Double Click Club began to arrive with their client dates. There was lots of arms-length air-kissing at first, but before long things began heating up.
As the party got going, Scott Berman and Chrissy Sweet reclined on a pool chaise. It wasn't long before he had the top on her dress loosened, and they were nuzzling and drinking champagne.
Occasionally, Scott got up to make them fresh drinks. We watched as couples started dancing. There was a
