“How’d she try to help Mr. Warren?”
“She was a flight attendant then—I don’t know if she still is—for one of those private jet companies. She actually saw money change hands with her own eyes, and heard what they said about Mr. Warren.”
“This was Councilman Richter?”
“Him and others. I don’t know who. I wasn’t in the room.”
“I understand.”
“Whatever it was, she told Mr. Warren. She came here to warn him. He was livid, but he couldn’t do anything about it. He was scared.”
“Scared of confronting the councilman.”
“These people control his livelihood.”
“You told Josh about her?”
“I did. She saw them. She actually saw the money. He was very excited.”
I was excited, too. I could feel myself gaining ground, as if Josh was just out of sight over the horizon, but I was catching up fast.
“When was this?”
“Three or four months ago.”
“Not what she saw. When did you tell Josh?”
“Yesterday. People need to know. Someone needs to stop this.”
“Someone does. You know my name. May I ask yours?”
“I’m Gina, Gina Freid, but please don’t tell anyone I told.”
“I won’t, Gina. I promise.”
The contact card showed an address in Marina del Rey. Allie Rice might or might not be home, and Josh might or might not be in touch with her, but I didn’t want to risk scaring him off. I hustled out to my car and got on with the hunt. It was better than eating more bagels.
45
Allie Rice lived in the right half of a duplex home not far from Venice Beach. Many of the homes on her street favored nautical decor with fishing nets or surfboards on their porches. Allie Rice’s porch held potted hydrangeas.
The odds were slight, but I hoped to find Allie Rice at home. If she wasn’t, I planned to break in and search for more clues. Maybe a note saying “Meet Josh Schumacher at 2” or “Josh is at the Islander Palms rm 312.” I never thought Josh would be with Allie Rice when I arrived, but his black-on-black MINI sat two doors away. I parked in a red zone at the corner, walked back, and confirmed the plate. Josh. Takeout food debris, crumpled soda cans, and a sleeping bag littered the interior. Josh had been living in his car.
I stood in the brilliant sunlight and placed a hand on the MINI’s roof. I squinted up at the clear blue sky. The meatball might scream around the corner with blazing guns or a formation of drones might appear, but I wanted to enjoy the moment. I enjoyed it too long.
Allie Rice’s front door opened and Ryan Seborg stepped out with a gear bag over his shoulder. He saw me and literally jumped. He looked like Sylvester the Cat.
“Josh! Run! It’s him!”
He slammed the door and something crashed in the house.
I ran onto the porch, but the door was locked. Another crash came from the back of her house. I hopped off the porch, ran down the side of the house, and jumped a wooden gate into her backyard. Josh and Ryan were struggling to climb a fence in the rear, but a huge mound of bougainvillea blocked their way.
I said, “Josh, stop. I just want to talk.”
Josh shouted, “Help! Help!”
I raised my hands.
“Ryan, c’mon. Tell him.”
Josh shouted, “I’m not going back!”
Ryan shouted louder, “Stay away, asshole!”
A trim, attractive woman in black tights and a red T-shirt appeared at the back door. She put her fists on her hips and didn’t look happy to see me.
“Get out of my yard. I’ll call the police.”
Josh made a break for the far side of the house. I beat him across and he veered to the other side. I beat him again and he cut back again.
“Josh, you’re found. This is silly. Stop.”
Josh was large and he wasn’t in shape. He stopped and leaned over with his hands on his knees, sucking breaths like a bellows. Ryan came up beside him and glared like a guard dog.
I said, “Don’t have a heart attack, okay? Breathe.”
Josh nodded and sucked air.
“Did my mother actually hire you?”
Ryan said, “This is him. He’s a detective.”
“What did you expect? You vanished.”
“I couldn’t stay.”
“There were three or four hundred better ways to handle this.”
He looked at Ryan.
“I knew they’d come. I didn’t want anyone hurt.”
“Rachel Bohlen is dead.”