Chapter 23

August 3, 1996

Saturday morning

The next morning, I was sitting in front of Sammy's condo by seven. I had two large coffees from Hot Times and two lemon poppy seed muffins. I left the radio on for the first few minutes since it was in the middle of the news. Starbucks had opened its first store in Japan, that was important. The national minimum wage was raised to four dollars and seventy cents, which meant the members of Congress really believed people could live on less than two hundred dollars a week. And Congress wanted to declare English the national language. That probably made the go-back-where-you-came-from types really happy, though I doubt they had any idea where they themselves had come from.

I watched as Sammy's neighbors came down in their workout clothes and drove to their gyms. It was a cloudy morning and cool, below seventy. I had on a thick corduroy shirt over a white tee. It was damp too. My shoulder hurt, which is the only reason I knew that. My personal barometer. I wondered if it might rain.

A few minutes after eight I got a call on my cellular. Ronnie.

"Where are you?"

"I'm sitting in front of a condo in Signal Hill."

"Why?"

"I'm waiting to see if Sammy Blanchard comes out."

"You're on a stake out? And you didn't invite me?"

"Your idea of fun is very strange. Tell me about your showings last night."

I'd actually fallen asleep the minute I got home from La Mirada. Ronnie hadn't gotten home yet. That was later than usual for him, so it must have gone well.

"I showed Andrew and Carl six houses last night and then they put an offer in on the first one."

"That happens a lot with you."

"Well… I always show the best choice first and then show the lesser ones next. It solidifies people's choices."

"Congratulations."

"It does mean another commitment ceremony. They're tying the knot next month."

"That seems to be going around."

Honestly, I wasn't sure how I felt about commitment ceremonies. They were either a radical political act or a slavish devotion to straight culture. Not that I personally cared as long as I got to wake up next to Ronnie every morning.

"Buying property together is enough commitment for me," he said, again. I wondered if that was true or whether he was just picking up on my ambivalence about commitment ceremonies.

It seemed a good time to say, "I love you, Ronnie Chen."

"Wow, stakeouts must be really boring."

That made me laugh. Then he added, "I love you, too. But I have to go. If you're going to disappear tomorrow morning, leave me a note."

I worried my way through another two hours. I spent the time thinking about what I might say to Sammy whenever I decided to confront her and make my pitch for a deposition. At one point, I slipped out of the Jeep and took a piss behind one of the larger bushes next to her garage.

It was nearly ten when I saw her walking across the garage toward her car. I started up the Jeep and waited. A couple of minutes later, a nearly new, white Camaro convertible came out of the garage. Despite the glumness of the day, she had the top down. She turned south. I gave her a good lead and then followed.

When she reached the bottom of the hill, she turned right. I scooted up a little, just in time to see her turn right again. She was going north on Cherry Avenue. I relaxed. A few moments later I made the same turn. I could easily see her several car lengths ahead of me, heading up the hill.

I tried to anticipate where she might be going. We were going to pass The Home Depot, but I doubted she was a fix-it kind of girl. It was easy to stay a ways behind her, the white convertible made her stand out. We crossed the 405, drove by a dozen or so car dealerships, went through an industrial area. I didn't know where she was going until we turned right on Del Amo.

We were heading to the Lakewood Mall. Things turned residential on Del Amo, a decent neighborhood if you wanted to live in the suburbs while still being close to everything. Traffic thinned out a bit, which meant Sammy could speed up. I was fairly certain it wasn't because she'd noticed me. She had a sports car. Making it go fast was part of the point.

The mall was sprawling. We turned north on Lakewood and then about a couple blocks later, turned into the parking lot. The mall was popular, particularly on a Saturday morning. In the lot across from Macy's she cruised around looking for a space. She was one of those people who kept driving around to find the closest spot possible. I chose a spot on the furthest side of the lot next to Lakewood Boulevard. I sat in the Jeep for a bit, trying to catch sight of her in my rearview mirror. She drove past me once. Then I got out of the car and watched as she waited for a car to pull out just a few spots from the entrance to the store.

I walked over to the next row so I wouldn't look like I was following her, and walked slowly down it as she got out of her car and then went into Macy's. I was in the store just a few moments after her. This entrance put you in bedding. Kitchenware was to the left. I caught sight of Sammy just as she turned toward women's wear. I didn't follow her.

Instead, I worked my way through men's. Parts of it bordered on the women's department. I made my way to the edge. Just to make myself a little less suspicious, I picked up a folded sweater and carried it around with me.

I found Sammy looking through a rack of tops. I could tell she was going to be a while. I turned my back on her. She had no idea I was following her. She wouldn't. It can be hard for people to figure it out even if they suspect someone might want to follow them.

When I turned around again, she was still at the same rack. She'd placed several tops onto the rack. It looked like she might be about to try them on. I was a few feet from the shoe department. I went over and sat in a chair. I could wait, but she wouldn't see me.

After a few minutes, a cute, young salesman came over and asked if he could help me. I said, "No, I'm just taking a little rest."

"If there's anything I can do for you, please let me know."

Then he stayed nearby moving things around. He was trying to look like he was straightening things up, but honestly, they looked just fine. I don't know whether he was trying to pick me up or he'd pegged me as a shoplifter. Either way, I decided I needed to move on.

Standing up, I glanced over at the women's section. I didn't see Sammy anywhere. My first thought was that she'd gone to try on the tops she'd picked out. But then I noticed that two of the tops were still there. Had she gone and come back? What was happening?

I stepped into the main aisle and walked the store, skirting the women's department as best I could. I didn't see her for quite a while, but then I picked her out at a cashier. She was checking out. The clerk was putting her selections into a white shopping bag with a red star on the side.

I continued walking as though there was somewhere I wanted to be. I set the sweater I was carrying down on a display of football shirts. It was too warm for a sweater anyway. I guessed that she'd be going out into the mall rather than heading back to her car, so I started studying a case of perfumes and cosmetics near the front of the store.

A clerk came right over.

"Something special for the lady in your life?"

"Just browsing."

Sammy walked by on the other side of the counter, out into the mall. She turned to the left. I walked away from the counter and went out into the mall. I followed her the length of the mall until she went into Sears. I decided not to follow her.

There was a ninety percent chance she'd be coming back out to the mall proper. She could leave via one of the outer doors and walk through the parking lot to her car, but that didn't really make sense. I was sure she'd come back through this entrance.

I walked back down and looked at the food at Sbarro and Panda Express. I was getting hungry. I'd like to buy some lunch, but it didn't seem like a good idea. Sammy could be walking by at any moment. I bought a Mrs. Fields chocolate chip cookie. That didn't seem like much of a risk.

I ate half the cookie then put it back in its bag. I went into LensCrafters. I didn't wear glasses, but you could see the entrance to Sears from there. I'd be able to spot Sammy when she came out.

I'd very nearly agreed to an eye exam when Sammy came out of Sears. Well, hallelujah. I walked out of LensCrafters and was twenty feet behind Sammy. She'd bought a piece of luggage with wheels. It was trailing behind her.

We hadn't gone very far when she got in line at Sbarro. I drifted on, stopping to look into the windows of the Warner Brothers Store. They had lots of Bugs Bunny merchandise, Elmer Fudd coffee cups, tables full of videos.

I kept an eye on Sammy. She had a tray in front of her and was ordering, pointing at one of the premade pizzas in the glass case. I left the Warner Brothers Store, crossed the way, and stopped at Panda Express. I skipped ahead in line and bought a Coke. I turned around and checked out the tables to find Sammy sitting at one in front of Mrs. Fields. I walked over and sat down across from her.

Holding a piece of pizza in mid-air, she stopped and set it back down. She looked much the same as she had that spring. Blonde hair cut very short, her blue eyes a bit sunken. She was in her mid-thirties, not even a decade older than Ronnie. She gave me a very sour look.

"You bought a suitcase. Are you planning a trip?"

"I'm going to call my attorney and tell him you're harassing me."

"And what? He'll ground me? Give me detention?"

"I'll have him file a restraining order."

"And my boss would file a response. I think you might want to avoid that."

"What do you want?"

"I'm here to make you an offer."

"Go ahead," she said. Then she took a bite of her pizza.

I had a sip of my pop before I started. "You told me that Pete Michaels was trying to blackmail your husband and that's why your husband killed him. Do you remember that?"

"Of course, I remember that."

"My boss would like you to sit for a deposition."

"And tell you that my husband killed Pete Michaels?"

"Yes. Exactly."

"You're trying to trick me."

"I'm not a cop. I don't care who really killed Pete Michaels. All I care about is getting my client out of prison. If you say your husband killed Pete, then all of this will be over."

She thought about it. Chewed on another bite of pizza. She was checking out the angles, spinning it around in her head. I thought it might be a good idea to give her a business card. I picked out one with my cellular number on the back.

"Talk to your lawyer if you want. If you do the deposition, you can return the suitcase."