“He wasn’t crazy about me being older than Ava, though,” said Ralston.
“True, until my mom reminded him that they had the same age difference.”
Even though it was small talk, the conversation was good for both of them. They both needed to heal. As Ava’s older sister, Alisa had felt partly to blame for Ava’s death. That guilt had been projected onto Ralston for not testifying. She needed to stop blaming him for the pain she felt over Ava’s death, and Ralston needed to stop blaming himself. They both needed to let go and to be let go.
“How’s Brent?” Ralston said, changing the subject to Alisa’s husband.
“He’s fine.”
“The kids?”
“They’re good too,” she replied, “but we could have done the whole How’s your family thing over the phone.”
Ralston knew that wasn’t true. They needed to see each other. They needed to acknowledge together that Ava was gone. They needed to close that chapter and, as painful as it was, put it behind them. It was the only way they could move forward. It was the only way that he could be sure that she would help him.
Alisa noticed that Ralston was limping. “Are you okay?” she asked. “What about Larry? Is he okay?”
“We’re both fine,” he replied.
“But you’re limping.”
Ralston waved it off. “My hip acts up from time to time. Don’t worry about it.”
“What happened?”
“It’s a long story.”
Alisa pointed down the coastline. “It’s a long beach.”
Ralston looked at the ocean and then back at her. As they walked, he told her everything that had happened.
“Why haven’t you called the police?” she asked once he had finished. “No district attorney, no matter how publicity hungry, would bring charges in this case. You need to turn yourselves in.”
“We can’t. Not yet at least. And that’s why I need your help,” said Ralston.
Alisa looked at him. “I don’t understand why you can’t turn yourselves in.”
“Because the men who came to kill Larry were professionals. Whoever hired them not only can afford to send more, he probably will.”
“You know who sent them?”
“We have an idea,” said Ralston.
“Then tell the police. Tell the district attorney. They can help protect you.”
As another wave rolled up onto the sand, Ralston stopped and turned to look at her. “The men who came to kill Larry were Russian Special Forces-Spetsnaz. I don’t need to tell you how influential the Russians are in Los Angeles.”
No, he didn’t need to tell her. There was a large Russian community in L.A., and a part of it was composed of Russian Armenians. Because of her father’s heritage, he’d attracted a lot of their business. His reputation as the toughest criminal defense attorney in Los Angeles attracted the rest of the Russians, especially many of the most colorful and less than virtuous.
“You don’t think the police can protect you, do you?” she said.
“I know they can’t. There are just too many foxes in the henhouse.”
“So what are you going to do?”
Ralston didn’t need to think about his answer. “For starters, I’m going to find out who sent that team to kill Larry.”
“And let me guess,” she said. “That’s where I come in.”
Ralston nodded. “Those three hitters inside Larry’s house were fresh off the boat. Somebody local had to set it all up. They needed to be met at the airport, given their weapons, driven to Salomon’s. That’s the way these things normally work.”
“What do you want me to do?” she asked. “Take out an ad in the Russian Kurier newspaper?”
“I’d like you to talk to your father. I’m guessing that there’s only a handful of people in L.A. who could have put this together. Most likely, it’s someone who worked for the Russian FSB or its predecessor, the KGB.”
“Hold it,” said Alisa. “That my dad has represented some unsavory people from that community doesn’t mean he knows who to go to for contract killings.”
“I’m not saying he does,” replied Ralston. “What I need is for you to ask him. He knows enough people. One of them is going to know who could have put something like this together.”
“And what happens when word gets back to this person that my father is asking questions? What’s to say they’re not going to come after him? Or my mother?”
Ralston tried to set her mind at ease. “Your father’s well-respected in that community. Nothing is going to happen to him and nothing is going to happen to your mom.”
“I’m glad you’re so confident.”
“Ali, your dad’s a smart guy. We both know that. He knows how to ask questions without getting himself in trouble. There are probably a hundred people who can tell him what I need to know, and very likely, they all owe your dad a favor. I’m just asking for him to cash one in for me.”
“And why would he want to do that?” she asked.
Ralston looked at her. The attraction he’d never acted upon, but had always felt slightly guilty about while dating Ava, was still there. He tried to put it out of his mind. He knew she had felt it, and fought it, as well. That was the reason she hadn’t hung up on him when he called. It was why she was standing here on the beach with him now. It was why she wanted to help him. She just needed a reason to, something other than the feelings she’d always harbored for her sister’s boyfriend.
“Your father won’t need a reason,” said Ralston. “And he won’t ask you for one. I was good to Ava. He knows that. I tried to help her. That’s all that should matter.”
“And if he says no?”
“He won’t,” replied Ralston.
“You’re pretty sure of yourself, aren’t you?” said Alisa.
“No. What I’m sure of, is you. You won’t let him say no.”
Before she could respond, he removed a small piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to her. “Memorize this and then burn it.”
“What is it?” she asked.
“It’s an email account I want you to use, so we can communicate. The instructions are there. I’ve left a signed agreement in the draft folder retaining you as my attorney. I’ve also left a letter clearly stating that you have directed me to turn myself in to the police and that I intend to do so once Larry’s safety can be guaranteed,” he replied.
“What about your safety?”
Ralston closed her hand over the piece of paper and let his hand linger atop hers. “I can take care of myself.”
Alisa thought about drawing her hand back, but didn’t. “Why won’t you tell me who’s behind all of this?”
“I can’t,” he said as he let go of her hand. “Not yet. Please just talk to your father for me.”
With that, he turned and walked away. Alisa watched him go, her mind filled with questions about what kind of trouble he was in as well as what kind of person would send a Russian hit team after one of the most popular producers in Hollywood.
CHAPTER 32
“Do you always travel with security?” Julia Winston asked as she took another sip of the 1992 DRC Montrachet that James Standing had ordered.
