Guilt by Association (40 page)
Read Guilt by Association Online
Authors: Marcia Clark
I literally couldn’t tell her. Olive didn’t really know of the suspicions that had been raised about Jake and Kit.
Relief mixed with painful remorse for ever having doubted Jake moved me to tears, and I let them roll down my cheeks unchecked.
With an effort, I steadied my voice enough to ask, “Do you think Adam would mind talking to someone else about Jake?”
“Don’t see why not,” Olive replied.
I immediately placed a call to Jennifer, who’d broken down completely when I told her the story. When she recovered, I suggested
that she might like to hear the tale in person, and she’d readily agreed. I arranged for her to meet Adam for lunch—my treat.
Now, weeks later, I was finally feeling like I’d recovered from my bout with Evelyn. And the obvious bumps and bruises had
receded enough to let me put away the heavy concealer.
Graden had suggested that since I’d managed to close my case
and
his, maybe I could let him buy me dinner. I decided I could. Then we thought we’d make it a party. So tonight all of us were
gathering at the Rooftop Bar above the Standard Hotel for a big celebration dinner.
Graden was going to pick up Toni, Bailey, and me at the Biltmore at 7:30. J.D. and Drew would meet us at the bar. It was only
6:30, so I had time to kill. I called Toni and Bailey and asked if they felt like coming by early to have a drink before Graden
got there. They both said yes before I finished the sentence.
By quarter to seven, Bailey called me from the downstairs bar.
Bailey, Toni, and my martini were ready and waiting when I arrived.
“I figure you’ve earned that, after that textbook takedown of Evelyn Durrell,” Bailey said with a smirk.
I sipped my martini and tried to ignore her.
“What do you call that move anyway?” she teased.
Toni laughed hard. Too hard. “What were you trying to do? Make her surrender out of pity?” she asked.
I shot her a look, then turned to Bailey.
“You’re already going to be feasting on this for months. If I answer that question, I’ll only be feeding the beast. No,
gracias
.”
“It was a flying tackle, wasn’t it?” Bailey grinned.
I sipped my martini and ignored her.
“At least you didn’t nail a parking meter,” she said.
I ignored her some more.
Instead I turned to Toni, resplendent in her long sparkling scarf and an armful of glittering bracelets.
“Putting it on for His Honor,” I said. “Go, Toni.”
“I couldn’t stand it anymore,” she said. “I just had to break out and enjoy myself tonight after wearing all those dull, disgusting
suits for the past several weeks.”
Nothing Toni wore was ever dull or disgusting, but it was pointless to argue.
“I meant to tell you,” Bailey said to me. “I’ve got a bodywork guy who said he could give you a deal on your car. I promised
to send him some pictures so we could get an estimate. What time is it?”
I looked at my cell phone. “Seven o’clock. We’ve got time if you want to do it now.”
“Yeah, let’s go confront the carnage.”
“Let me just suck this up real fast. I think I’m going to need the anesthesia before I see that mess again.” I took a long
sip of my drink.
“Okay if I meet you all out front?” Toni asked, gesturing to her four-inch-heeled strappy sandals. “I don’t really need to
do any more walking than necessary in these.”
“Meet us in five, Scarlett,” Bailey said.
We took the elevator down to the parking lot. But when I got to my space, it was empty. I turned, disoriented, and looked
around the cavernous lot.
“What the hell?” I said, perplexed.
“When was the last time you checked on your car?”
“Not since it happened,” I admitted. “Maybe I’ve got the wrong spot,” I suggested.
But after we’d combed the entire floor, I admitted defeat.
Demoralized, frustrated, and furious, I stomped out of the garage.
“Your insurance will cover it, Knight,” Bailey said. “Besides, it looked like hell.”
“But I had stuff in it. CDs, pictures. Damn it!” I said. “Where the hell is Rafi?”
I continued stomping all the way up the ramp, Bailey beside me. When we got to the valet stand, Toni joined us. “You won’t
friggin’ believe this,” I told her. “Someone jacked my car!” Toni was about to reply when we got distracted by the thumping
bass of a loud stereo coming from somewhere up the street.
A midnight-blue car, blasting rap music, was slowly bumping and bouncing its way down Grand Avenue toward the hotel driveway.
A hand came out of the passenger window and waved, followed by the grinning face of Luis Revelo. The car came to a stop in
front of me.
“
Hola,
Ms. Prosecutor,” Luis said.
“Luis? What’re you doing here?” I was still pissed off but also surprised and pleased to see him.
“What’s it look like I’m doin’, man? I’m returnin’ your ride.”
I frowned, then looked at the car again.
My car!
Only—not.
“You’re kidding.”
“I’m mos’ definitely not kiddin’ you.” Luis got out of the car and motioned for the driver to step out. “Get in, man. You
got everythin’ in here. Not like before. I hooked you up with sound—”
“I heard.” I laughed.
Bailey and Toni were smiling. “Go on, get in.”
“You guys knew,” I said.
They nodded. “From what Luis told me, you’re gonna love it,” Bailey said.
Luis held the door as I walked around to the driver’s side, then closed it gallantly. I started to thank him, but he’d already
sprinted across the street. He had business to attend to. The less I knew about
that,
the better.
I gestured for Toni and Bailey to get in and handed my cell phone to Bailey. “Call Graden,” I said. “Tell him I’m driving
tonight.”
This book would never
have happened without the advice, support, and fortitude of Cathy LePard—a brilliant writer, a beautiful person, and my personal
savior. My love, gratitude, and appreciation are boundless. You are a god/goddess-send.
Hard work takes you only so far; at some point you also need a little luck. I had the enormous fortune to find the best agent
in the world: Dan Conaway, whose genius took the book to the next level, and whose charm, wit, and warmth made the process
not only educational but a lot of damn fun. And here’s to Stephen Barr, the marvelous, indefatigable assistant who was always
a joy. What a team! I couldn’t love you more.
To executive editor par excellence Judy Clain and publisher Michael Pietsch: my boundless and eternal thanks from the bottom
of my heart for believing in this book—I’m so honored and thrilled to be with you, it almost leaves me speechless. And as
if that weren’t enough, working with you has been an unmitigated pleasure. You are the gold standard, truly. Special thanks
to fantastic, hardworking editorial assistant Nathan Rostron, who kept the wheels turning smoothly. And kudos to senior copyeditor
Karen Landry—what a great job! Thank you!
And my thanks to Marillyn Holmes, whose sharp eyes miss nothing.
My profound thanks to all of the wonderful folks at Mulholland Books—your smarts, creativity, and sheer resourcefulness are
a wonder. I have had so much fun working with you! What a great and rare gift you are!
I want to specially thank my dear friend Lynn Reed Baragona for making the connections that set it all in motion—somehow,
Lynn, you’re always there at the critical moment. The magic of friendship never ceases to amaze me. You’re simply terrific.
My great thanks also go out to Katharine Weber. Your advice, help, and insight were key to getting this book out into the
world, and I’ve so enjoyed our time together. Thank you!
To Hynndie Wali, dear friend, who listened generously, suggested wisely, and in general put up with my ruminations beyond
the call of duty. I can’t promise it won’t happen again, but I can promise that the drinks are on me! Thank you, girlfriend,
for always being there in so many ways.
Marcia Clark
is a former Los Angeles deputy district attorney who was the lead prosecutor on the O. J. Simpson murder case. She cowrote
a bestselling nonfiction book about the trial,
Without a Doubt,
and is a frequent media commentator and columnist on legal issues. She lives in Los Angeles.
Copyright © 2011 by Marcia Clark
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
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First eBook Edition: April 2011
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The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
ISBN: 978-0-316-18635-3
