Page 41 of The Perfect Accomplice

Jessie sat in the driver’s seat of the car, trying not to act suspicious.

They'd been at the hotel for ten minutes already. After pulling into one of the drop-off lanes in front of the main entrance, Ryan showed the valet his badge and ID and secured a parking spot in the loading zone. Then he got out and headed into the lobby, where he could watch for Short's arrival without being noticed. Jessie moved into the driver's seat and, with Ryan on speaker, pretended to look at her phone while looking up every twenty seconds or so.

It didn’t take long for Short to arrive. He pulled up in a black Lincoln Continental and hopped out. Albert Short—black, diminutive, with a thick trunk and impressive belly that strained at his black sports jacket—wore a broad smile.

He opened the rear passenger door for his client, a middle-aged man in a suit with gray hair and a paunch. While the passenger pulled out his wallet to fish for bills for a tip, Albert moved to the trunk and removed one bag, which he passed to the bellhop.

Jessie watched the passenger hand Short several bills. As he did, she saw Ryan casually push open a lobby door and move next to the valet stand. Short seemed to notice it too and visibly stiffened as his smile faded. He shoved the tip into his pocket and moved to the driver’s door, his eyes never leaving Ryan.

Jessie didn’t know what had alerted him, but Short obviously sensed that the powerfully built guy Latino guy in the casual sports jacket wasn’t just another convention-goer. He opened the door and was just starting to get back in the driver’s seat when Ryan quickly approached him.

“Excuse me, sir—,” he started to say but Short slammed the door shut before he could finish. His window was open and for a terrifying second Jessie feared that Ryan might try to leap in to grab the man. But before he could even try, Short put the car in gear and started rolling forward.

Jessie, who was just ahead and to the left of them and already had her car running, did the same. As she moved forward, she saw Ryan break into a jog alongside the Continental, which was picking up speed. The look on Short’s face was one of desperation.

Jessie realized that unless she acted quickly, they would end up in a chase, perhaps with Ryan following on foot. She knew that she was likely to lose any race through the streets of downtown L.A., considering that Short was a professional driver who knew every back road of the city better than she ever would. So she punched the gas now to avoid any issues later.

She shot forward and veered left, then stopped at a diagonal, blocking the Continental’s path completely. Short managed to slam on the brakes about two feet in front of her. For a moment, he looked like he might try to flee on foot.

“That would be a huge mistake,” she warned him through her own open window.

The guy still seemed to be debating the decision when Ryan caught up. He was holding his gun in one hand and his badge in the other.

“LAPD,” he barked. “Albert Short, turn off the vehicle and step out with your hands up!”

“Okay, okay,” the man said, making a dramatic show of turning off the car. Then he slowly exited with his hands in the air. In the background, Jessie noticed the passenger he’d driven here standing still, his jaw hanging down in shock. Jessie turned off her car and got out as Ryan pulled out his handcuffs and snapped them on the driver.

“I swear I didn’t know you were cops,” Short protested. “I thought this was a hit.”

"Why would you think that, Mr. Short?" she asked, taking immediate advantage of the man's willingness to talk.

Short paused briefly, seeming to weigh how best to answer.

“Some of the people I drive are of. . .questionable character,” he replied carefully. “I occasionally hear things. I thought that maybe someone had determined that I’d heard too much and decided to shut me up just to be safe.”

Ryan looked over at Jessie, clearly intrigued, before returning his attention to Short.

“That’s a topic we can get to later,” he said. “Right now we want to talk to you about Chloe Henshall.”

“The Hollywood Hills lady?” he said, “what about her?”

Jessie took a step toward the man and stared at him closely as she answered.

“She’s dead.”

Short’s eyes widened immediately. Jessie was never one to trust body language exclusively. She seen multiple killers who had the ability to hide their darkness behind a mask of sympathy or shock. If Short was one of them, he was good, because his reaction was very convincing.

“Are you sure?” he asked quietly.

"We are," Jessie continued. "In fact, she was murdered. She was found this morning, but it looks like she was killed yesterday afternoon, possibly not long after you dropped her off. So you can see why we wanted to chat with you."

“Wait,” he said, his voice rising anxiously, “are you saying that you think I had something to do with it? There’s no way. I really liked the lady.”

“Are you sure this rich lady didn’t say something that made you angry?” Ryan pressed, “something that made you lose it, like you did at Tepper’s Tavern, when you beat up that guy for cutting in front of you at the pinball machine?”

Short stared back at him like he was crazy.

“Are you serious?” he wanted to know. “That happened sixteen years ago when I was an idiot kid. I did my time. After I got out, I kept my nose clean. I’m thirty-six now and haven’t had a brush with the law since. I’ve worked this job for eight years. I have an apartment and a retirement account. I’m engaged to a great woman who has two kids that I love. I haven’t had time for that kind of stupidity in forever.”

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