Page 42 of The Perfect Accomplice

“And yet,” Ryan noted, “you apparently drive people who do things that make you think they might want to have you knocked off. So how clean is your nose really?”

“Listen, man,” Short pleaded. “I can’t control who rides in my car. I get assigned by the company. Just like with Mrs. Henshall. I guess she liked me because she requested me all the time. She said I was funny and took her mind off more serious stuff. But not everyone who has me drive them is interested in my sparkling personality. Sometimes they just want a guy that stays quiet and does his job. It’s not up to me.”

“All right,” Jessie said, deciding that this issue couldn’t be resolved in the moment. But she hoped another one could. “Where were you yesterday, from the time you dropped off Chloe Henshall until midnight.”

Short seemed to relax slightly at the question, as if he knew that his answer wouldn’t implicate him.

“I had another pickup right after I dropped her off. Some couple in Beverly Hills needed a ride to LAX. After that, I can’t remember every pickup, but I was working until eight. Then I dropped off the car and drove my own to my fiancée’s place. We had a late dinner, and I spent the night there.”

Jessie looked over at Ryan, letting him ask the question they both had.

“I assume the Continental has GPS?” he asked.

"Yeah," Short said. "There's the standard one most cars are equipped with. Plus, they have an extra one so they can track locations and times and update clients on pickups and drop-offs."

“Are you willing to let us look at the geo-location data for your personal vehicle and your phone?” Jessie asked. “If you give us permission, and what you’re telling us holds up, we can clear you much quicker.”

“Whatever you need, you can have,” Short told her. “I don’t want any trouble and whatever I have to do to prove I’m not your guy, I’ll do it.”

Normally, she appreciated the cooperation of a potential suspect, whether guilty or innocent. If they were guilty, often in their willingness to seem helpful, they opened themselves up to facts that proved their guilt. But Jessie didn't get that feeling here.

They would have Jamil and Beth check on Short’s location data, but she already sensed that it was a waste of time. Everything in her bones told her that Albert Short wasn’t their guy, which meant the real killer was still out there right now.

She decided to give him the benefit of the doubt for the moment, if for no other reason than to get more information on his time with the victim.

“What time did you pick up Mrs. Henshall from her meeting?” she asked.

“Just after four.”

“And when did you get to her house?”

“I can check the log for an exact time, but I think it was a little before 4:30,” he said.

“When you picked her up from her meeting yesterday, Did Mrs. Henshall seem agitated or upset?” she asked.

“No,” he answered quickly. “She said she was tired because the meeting had run so long, but after I cracked a few jokes, she brightened up and was her normal chatty self.”

“What about when you dropped her off?” Jessie pressed. “Did you notice anything odd? See anyone unusual around?”

He shook his head. “Everything seemed like it always did. I feel like if there was someone suspicious around I would have noticed. I offered to walk her to the door, but she said she was fine. I did wait until she went inside before I left. She even waved goodbye. Everything was normal.”

As Jessie listened to him, she could feel the tendrils of the case threatening to engulf her. If Albert Short was to be believed, there was no immediate threat to Henshall when he pulled away. But that wasn’t as helpful to know as she hoped it would be.

With dozens of potential suspects, including everyone from personal trainers, dog walkers, gardeners, pet therapists, and book club friends, there were too many leads and not enough resources to follow them all. They could spend days hunting them all down and still not find the right person.

Meanwhile, another victim could be in danger right now.

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

The man knew he had to act quick.

After the research people from that LAPD unit reached out, he realized he didn't have much time. They had already hinted that they might want him to come in for an interview. But that didn't have to be a problem.

After all, he felt confident that he hadn't left any evidence behind. And, of course, he still had his ace in the hole, the detail that would almost certainly lead them away from him. But there was always the risk that they might uncover the truth. So, he needed to take advantage of the freedom he still had. There were other women who had earned payback, and he felt an obligation to provide it.

As he watched his next potential target from afar, the man felt the anger churn inside him. He remembered how dismissive Margot Howell had been toward him the first time he’d met with her. She didn’t care about him, could barely remember his name for the longest time. He was just a means to an end for her.

But the man wasn’t in the financial position to be turning down jobs, even if they came from women like this. Howell was a big-time real estate agent to the uber-wealthy and while she wasn’t as well off as them, which he knew by visiting her far less impressive home, she sure acted like she was.

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