Page 14 of The Perfect People

“Excuse me,” Jessie said, leaning forward in her chair, “you saw a man choking her?”

She wondered if this was the vaguely referenced “ruckus” that Sergeant Breem had gotten wind of. But general talk of a ruckus was a far cry from someone getting choked in the middle of a party. No one else had claimed to witness that until now.

“I can’t be the first person to mention this to you,” Mary Mary replied with a mix of amusement and disbelief. “A bunch of people had to pull him off her. They started beating him up before he ran out of the house.”

“This is the first I’m hearing of it,” Jessie conceded with a modicum of doubt. “Why do you think no one else has brought it up? Wouldn’t someone have taken photos or video of that on their phone?”

“I don’t know,” Mary Mary said. “It was a big party. There was a lot going on. And it all happened really fast.”

“And no one called the police?”

“I don’t know about that either,” Mary Mary admitted. “I was across the room, sitting on the stairs. That’s how I had such a good view. I could see over everyone. But I couldn’t hear what anyone said.”

“Can you describe the guy?” Jessie asked.

“He was white.”

“That’s it?” Jessie pressed skeptically. “Was he tall or short? Skinny or heavy? What was he wearing?”

Mary Mary cackled at the question, revealing a set of teeth that were in dire shape.

“I was drunk, lady,” she said. “I wasn’t exactly focused on those kinds of details. Here’s what I know: he was white, he was choking Shasta until a bunch of people yanked him off her and started beating the hell out of him. Then he bailed. I can tell that you don’t buy what I’m selling because of my…compromised faculties. But that’s my testimony for the court, so help me god.”

“This isn’t a courtroom, Mar—,” Jessie started to tell her.

“Did you say she was choked?” someone asked from behind them.

Jessie turned around to see Susannah escorting out another witness who looked the worse for wear. In her thirties and wearing a cover-up over a bathing suit, the woman had on sunglasses but was still shielding her eyes from the invading sun. Her dark hair looked like it had been electrified and her skin was dry and burned.

“This is Linda Blane,” Susannah said. “She was at the party last night, and she apparently knows Shasta. Unfortunately she doesn’t remember much of anything, including whether she saw her at any point during the evening.”

“No,” Linda conceded. “But if Shasta was choked, I know of a guy you might want to talk to.”

“Who?” Susannah demanded more intensely than she probably intended.

Linda looked at Sergeant Breem nervously.

“Is he going to arrest me if I mention stuff that might not be strictly legal?” she asked.

“You know that I’m an LAPD detective, right?” Susannah asked incredulously. “I can arrest you too.”

“Yeah, but he’s wearing a uniform,” Linda pointed out. “You’re super-hot so I kind of forgot that you’re a cop.”

Jessie cringed in anticipation of what she sensed was about to come. Dismissing Susannah Valentine’s investigative chops while focusing on her physical attributes was a ticket to getting scolded at best and aggressively arrested at worst. Before she could jump in to save the unsuspecting woman, Sergeant Breem took a step forward.

“Detective Valentine,” he said, with a tone of deference that Jessie hadn’t encountered from him all day, “if you find that Ms. Blane’s information is useful and she hasn’t personally committed any crime, we would of course defer to your authority in regard to any potential arrest.”

It was a mishmash of words. Of course he wasn’t going to arrest Linda Blane if she didn’t admit to any wrongdoing, and they couldn’t prove that she’d done anything wrong. But that wasn’t the point. Breem was attempting to thread a tricky needle: he was clearly trying to short-circuit the confrontation he too could feel coming on. But he was also making it clear to everyone here—LindaandSusannah—that he understood who was in charge.

Susannah got it too. And to Jessie’s amazement, she did something unexpected in response: she smiled.

“Thank you, Sergeant Breem,” she replied, playing along. “LAPD appreciates MBPD’s cooperation in this matter. We’re willing to be lenient, depending on the value of what Ms. Blane has to say. Linda—spill.”

Linda Blane, oblivious to the fact that she’d just managed to avoid being reamed out by an angry detective on a crowded Southern California beachfront, proceeded as if everything was copacetic.

“Okay, there’s this dude, kind of a boy-toy type who I know gets passed around by some of the older ladies in the community. He does what they want, and they pay his bills. But here’s the thing: he’s got a reputation for being into the rough stuff. I also heard he’s got a bit of a temper. I didn’t know Shasta well enough to say if they had anything going on, and I wouldn’t have thought to mention it except that I saw him here last night.”

“What’s his name, Linda?” Jessie asked as casually as she could, trying not to sound as if this was the only decent lead they’d gotten all afternoon.

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