Killer Ambition - [63]
Bailey had pulled off all removable cushions on the chairs and sofa and leafed through every book on the shelves by the time I’d finished with the filing cabinet. We turned our attention to the desk. She took the left side, I took the right. Other than office supplies and paperweights, the most interesting thing I found was a photograph of a voluptuous copper-haired beauty in an evening gown. But she looked nothing like the slender brunette we’d seen in the entryway and in the photos that were dotted around the house.
“Something on the side?” I said, holding it up for Bailey to see. Just as she reached for it, I saw writing on the back. To my darling son, the best manager Hollywood has ever seen. XOXO, Mom.
Bailey took the photo and read the back. “Let’s hope he isn’t keeping his mother on the side.”
“Gagging now.”
I moved on to the bottom-right drawer. But when I pulled the handle, it wouldn’t budge. I pulled again; no luck.
“This one’s locked.” Bailey and I exchanged a look. She gave it a yank, confirmed what I’d said, and called out to the other officers to bring in the tools.
Four minutes later, the drawer was open. And there, under a few issues of Hollywood Reporter, was a laptop computer. Bailey lifted it out. “It’s not totally suspicious that he locked it up.”
“He’s probably got just as many hot-and-cold running assistants as Russell. A lot of prying eyes,” I said. “Though you’d think a password would be enough security in your own home.”
Bailey shrugged. “He might just be paranoid.”
“True.”
“But it might be more than that. If we take it, it could buy us a lot of trouble…” And yet, if we didn’t, we might regret it. Bitterly. “Your call, Counselor,” she said.
I’d included my standard phrase in the description of things we were allowed to seize: “All items whether electronic or written that might reasonably contain information or writings relevant to the crimes of…,” in this case, kidnapping and murder. The only real problem with seizing the computer was that we might run into privileged material. A manager doesn’t have a legally recognized privilege. But if we uncovered any communications with his lawyer that involved this case, it’d be trouble. On the other hand, if we left it here…
“Yeah. Take it. It’s covered.” I’d figure out how to handle any privilege issues later. The first priority was to get the evidence.
Bailey changed gloves and gingerly pulled the laptop out of the drawer, then slid it into a paper bag. “You do the idiot check to make sure we didn’t miss anything in here. I’m going to make sure they got Ian’s hairbrush, toothbrush, and all that jazz.”
“That jazz” would provide the exemplars Dorian and Tim Gelfer, our DNA expert, could use to determine whether hairs and any other bodily fluids that’d been seized matched Ian Powers. As I picked up the bag containing the laptop, I heard loud male voices coming from the front of the house.
Bailey pointed to the computer. “Make sure you get that tagged and logged.”
Then she walked off. And left me there, holding the bag.
38
I moved toward the front of the house where the evidence officer was stationed just as Ian Powers shouted, “I have the right to have my lawyer examine the warrant first! You can’t just barge into my house this way!”
“You do not have the right to have your lawyer review the warrant first, Mr. Powers,” Graden replied, his voice low and steady. If Powers thought he could throw his weight around with Graden, he was about to find out just how sadly mistaken he was. When I reached the front of the house, I saw that Graden was holding a copy of the search warrant and Powers was leaning toward him, neck muscles strained and bulging, chin jutting out, as though daring Graden to hit him.
Graden looked calm as the clear blue water in Ian’s infinity pool. Good news for Powers, because one punch from Graden would’ve ruined his close-ups for the next few months. Graden acknowledged me with a brief nod, then turned back to Powers. “I can assure you that there will be no damage to your-”
“I’m calling my lawyer!”
Graden replied with calm indifference, “Be my guest.”
Ian pulled out his cell phone and gave it the command to call his lawyer. I deliberately turned my back to him and started to hand the bag containing the laptop to the evidence officer. But then I thought better of it and stopped. If there was incriminating evidence on this laptop, Ian would go ballistic, and his lawyer would come running even faster. I could be dragged into court before I ever had the chance to see what I had. I motioned to the officer to join me outside and hugged the bag to my body to hide it from Ian as I made my way around him. Fortunately he was distracted, yelling at his lawyer. I had to get out of here fast, while I still could. When we stepped out into the courtyard, I explained the problem to the evidence officer. “So could you log it in and let me take it back to the station right now?”
“You’ve got to have an officer with you for chain of custody. I can’t just let-”
“Bailey Keller can vouch for-”
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