Trigger (15 page)

“Is she a big woman? Athletic? Strong?”

I instantly saw what the detective was getting at—I was not exactly a small man. Few women would succeed taking me down. That is, unless they took me completely by surprise like Nina had done. Tried to push me while I was in the throes of ecstasy, about to come hard, expecting to fly off to heaven, not a cliff to my almost certain death. How would I explain such a situation to this discerning detective without sounding like a complete goofball? Suddenly, I regretted having come down here. But I couldn’t back down now. I had to come up with some kind of explanation or risk coming off like a fool. I quickly decided that the truth, without specific details, was the best approach.

“No, she’s not very big. Five foot five tops. But we were making out and she took me by complete surprise. The last thing I expected was for her to all of a sudden
shove
me of a friggin’ cliff! She knew I was totally unprepared for such a move.”

Brando nodded, poker-faced. “I see. What’s her name?”

I gave the detective all the contact information I had for Nina. We spoke for a few more minutes and then I left the station.

Nina

“Are you okay?” Lorna’s words shook me out of my frozen state. “You’ve been standing there, staring at the TV for the last twenty minutes.” I turned toward my roommate, who was standing right beside me instead of sitting on the couch, reading the paper.

“Um, yeah. I was just a little shocked to learn about that murder.” I nodded toward the TV that was now showing a commercial.

“Oh. Did you know the girl that was killed?”

“Uh, no. I knew
of
her though.” I realized I was still holding onto my cell, but I couldn’t remember having said good-bye to Ricki, nor when I’d hung up. I made myself smile a little as I looked at Lorna. Even now, in a state of horror, I didn’t fail to register how starkly black and thick my roommate’s long hair was. Lorna, being closer to fifty than forty, insisted the color was completely natural, but I knew better. I’d seen the hair color boxes in the trash more than once. “I think I’m just horrified to hear that she’s dead. And I was at that club yesterday, too.”

“Oh, really? Thank God
you’re
still alive… Well, if you’re okay, I’ll return to my paper.”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks for asking.”

I walked back to my room, an intense sense of discomfort flowing through my veins. I needed to sit down and go over yesterday’s events in my head, try to figure out if there was a chance I might have anything to do with Emma’s death. I plopped down on my rumpled bed and stared with unseeing eyes at the shade that covered my bedroom window still. Images of Dylan embracing, stroking the hair of that blond girl appeared in my mind, and again that wave of jealousy ran over me, though not with as much potency. I remembered that, at the time, I’d felt like strangling the girl in Dylan’s arms, I had hated what I saw that much. But I had been drunk—
very
drunk—not thinking clearly. I couldn’t remember feeling anything when I bumped into Emma a little later. Then again, I couldn’t remember much of anything at that point, certainly not what had happened the moment
after
the encounter. I rubbed my fingertips into my temples, hoping this action would spur my memory.

But my mind remained a big, black nothing. I lowered my gaze back to my hands and examined them. They were full of red marks and little cuts, like I had fallen hard onto the asphalted ground. Did I fall yesterday? I had no idea. I looked down at my legs and noted that my knees looked a little banged up, too, and there were bruises on my shins.
So the marks on my hands must be from falling then, not strangling someone with a strap
, I thought. I sat up straighter. Ricki would know if I had fallen.

I found my phone and texted Ricki about it.

It didn’t take long for a response to appear in my phone:

Yes, when I tried getting you to your apartment on my own.

As I read the text, tension left my body and I felt much better suddenly.

Thank God.

I got to my feet and pulled up the dark shade, taking in another perfect, sunny California day, the weather matching my mood better now.
Of course
I hadn’t done anything to Emma. I might have been drunk out of my mind yesterday, but that didn’t turn me into a
murderer
. I laughed at myself for even thinking I might have been capable of such a horrendous deed. How silly! I had never before shown any violent tendencies while intoxicated, so why would I yesterday? I was a happy drunk, the kind people loved hanging around, not fleeing from.

I decided to get a mani/pedi before heading off to the restaurant for the extra dinner shift I’d picked up. A relaxing afternoon was just what I needed after such a stressful morning. But before I’d head out, I’d take a long, hot shower to clean myself of what remained of yesterday, wash away every uncomfortable memory. It was only when I was about to leave my bedroom that I caught sight of my black, sparkly handbag that I must have thrown on the floor when getting home yesterday.

The long chain shoulder strap was broken in two, right where it attached to one side of the actual bag, making it the ideal tool to strangle a person to death with.

Dylan

“Did you go to the police?” Victor said on the other end of the phone line.

“As soon as I found out that she’d been strangled,” I replied. Victor had called me when he learned about the unfortunate news on TV a few hours after I had returned home from the police station. My uncle had simply called to see how I was handling the news, not expecting to learn that I was convinced
Nina
was behind the murder. “It
has
to be her. You should’ve seen the way this crazy girl was staring at us!”

“Well, good thing you talked to that detective. They’ll get to the bottom of this for sure.”

I exhaled with exasperation. “We can only hope. I’m not completely convinced that cop took what I had to say too seriously. It was hard to read him. But if he doesn’t, I’ll go after her myself! I mean, in a way it’s my fault Emma’s dead today. If I hadn’t gone out with that chick again and just left things alone, none of this would’ve ever happened!”

“Calm down, Dylan. If there’s anyone who should feel guilty it’s me. I was the one who encouraged you to go after her again. But really, it’s no one’s fault but that girl’s. She was the one who did it—
if
she did it—and no one could have foreseen such a thing. It’s not your fault that Emma happened to be at the same place at the same time as you and this nutcase.”

“I suppose that’s true. But I still feel terrible.”

“Me, too. Let’s just wait and see what the police come up with. If it really was she who did it, she’ll be behind bars soon. But let’s not jump to conclusion, Dylan. Maybe someone else killed Emma. There are plenty of crazies in Hollywood.”

“No, it must have been her. Emma didn’t have any enemies.”

“If that’s really the case, it’s only a matter of time until she gets what she deserves. In the meantime, Dylan, promise me this.”

“What?”

“That you’ll watch your back. Just to be safe. If she’s truly as crazy as you say she is, she might come after you next.”

Nina

The knock on my front door was hard and persistent, scaring Sam so much he crept under the green couch to hide. It was nine a.m. on a Sunday and I never had any visitors this early on a weekend morning.
It must be someone for Lorna
, I thought as I walked to open the front door, having wrapped myself in a robe. Before I had reached it, another forceful knock sounded through the apartment. I opened the door, finding a squat, middle-aged man with a wide nose standing behind it. He was dressed in a cheap, charcoal suit over which hung a light trench coat.

He held up an LAPD badge to my face.

“I’m Detective Brando. I’m looking for Nina Kapyl…ushana Dreyen…”

“Kapylyushnya Dresyianina,” I automatically corrected him, feeling suddenly cold, my stomach hurting. But I put on a brave face; maybe this had nothing to do with Emma’s murder after all. “That’s me. What can I do for you?”

“I have some questions for you regarding the murder of Emma Patterson that took place this past Friday night. May I come in?”

My knees felt like they were about to give out and I wanted to throw up. And I who’d managed to convince myself the handbag strap had broken when I fell outside my building, not when strangling an innocent girl to death in a moment of intoxicated madness. Well, I was stupid to have thought this regarded something else. Why
else
would a cop come to visit me a Sunday morning? To arrest me for my one outstanding parking ticket? No, someone must have seen me commit the act and then told the police about it.

I restrained myself and stepped to the side, opening the door so Detective Brando could enter. I offered him to take a seat on the couch in the living room, glad Lorna and I had spent part of the afternoon yesterday cleaning up the place.

I took a seat on the purple armchair opposite the couch, trying not to look like I was guilty of anything but having eaten too much chocolate and pizza lately.

Detective Brando fished out a pen and a little notepad from inside his suit jacket and gave me a long, appreciative look. Then he opened his mouth. “Are you aware of the murder of Emma Patterson?”

“Yes, I am. I saw it on the news.”

“Where were you the night of her murder?”

“I was at the club where she was murdered. That’s why I know of it. I mean, remembered her name.”

“Uh-huh. So you didn’t know Ms. Patterson?”

“No. I’ve never seen her before in my life.”

“I see.” The detective nodded. “Why did you choose to go to the Blue Moon that evening?”

“My friend Ricki really wanted to go there. I wasn’t that keen on entering the club when I saw how many people were there. I hate crowded clubs. But she convinced me to go inside anyway.”

“Can you tell me what you did at the Blue Moon from the moment you stepped inside?”

“Sure. Ricki and I went straight to one of the bars. I really wanted to have a drink. We got served pretty fast.” I gave a nervous little laugh “The bartender in that bar is
very
efficient.”

“Did you have more than one drink?”

“Yeah, I had a few. More than I usually drink.” I might as well tell the truth. After all, it wasn’t illegal to get drunk. “I saw someone at the club that upset me a little.”

“Dylan Whitman?”

I stared at the detective. How had he known
that?
Did
Dylan
have anything to do with the fact that this detective was sitting on my couch, asking me all these questions? I was suddenly sure this was so. The pain that cut through my stomach was so intense I wanted to scream out loud, but I clamped my teeth together, blocking it from coming out. Oh, God, he must be so convinced I murdered that girl in his arms he went to the police and told them that…

“Are you okay?” Detective Brando looked at me with sincere concern in his small eyes.

With what was left of my resolve, I made myself calm down, pretend like I wasn’t nearly as upset as I was. My voice came out remarkably steady. “Yes, I’m fine. I was just a little surprised that you seem to know Dylan.”

“I see.” The detective scribbled something on his notepad. “How do you know Dylan Whitman?”

“We went out a few times.”

“Okay. And why did you stop?”

There was no point in lying. “Because something about him made me freak out. Like
really
freak out.”

“Can you expand on that?”

“Sure. But it’s kind of… complicated.”

“That’s okay. Do your best to break it down to me.”

“Okay.” I sucked in a breath. “After our first date we… we ended up in bed.” I cleared my voice, feeling like a slut.
Well, it couldn’t be helped
. “Right when we finished, something about the way he looked at me made me extremely uncomfortable, like I was suffocating. At first I thought it was just me. That maybe I was coming down with a bad cold that made me unable to breathe or something. I know that sounds weird, but the whole moment was weird. Coming out of nowhere. The second time was during our last date when we went hiking. Something about his face made me so terrified I just had to get him off of me. I felt as though he was going to seriously hurt me. Like
kill me
. So I had to get away from him.” I was pretty sure this cop also knew about me having almost pushed Dylan off that cliff, but just in case he didn’t, I left that part out. Better to leave that last statement up to interpretation. I shrugged and added, “I guess I need to see a shrink or something.”

“That might be a good idea.” Detective Brando made a few notes on his pad. “What else happened at the club?”

“Not much. Ricki and I just hung at that same bar and drank our drinks. We didn’t really talk to anyone. I got drunk pretty fast, so Ricki suggested we go sit down somewhere.” I was not about to mention how furious I’d been at seeing Dylan embracing Emma. Surely Dylan had already done that, but there was no point in further incriminating myself by admitting this was the truth. “So we went to sit down at a table by the dance floor. Soon after that we went home.”

“That’s it?”

I contemplated whether I should be telling Detective Brando about the fact that I’d wandered around on my own and then passed out. It dawned on me that he would probably talk to Ricki to verify my story, so it was best if I did. “Well, Ricki went to see if the club still served food while I waited for her. We thought I’d sober up a little if I got something in me since I hadn’t eaten in many hours. I decided that I needed to get a little fresh air while waiting for her, so I walked to the exit. Sometime around then I passed out. Ricki found me in a corner and took me home.”

There was definitely no need to tell this cop I’d bumped into Emma right before I blacked out, though. For all I knew, that little piece of information might prompt him to arrest me on the spot. Besides, as drunk as I’d been, maybe I’d only
imagined
it was Emma I’d bumped into. It could have been another blonde, one that just looked like Emma.