She might pretend to be a cold professional, just finishing a job, but Hannah knew that was an illusion.Pierce wanted to regain her reputation for brutal efficiency by eliminating both her and Kat.But more importantly, she wanted vengeance.And if, after getting it, she was still a free woman, she’d go after Jessie too.
“We’re here.”
Kat’s words snapped Hannah out of her dark reverie.They were parked in front of Finn’s cousin’s house.
“Great,” Hannah muttered without enthusiasm.
“Do you want me to go in with you?”Kat offered.
“No,” Hannah said, opening the door, “I’ve got to do this alone.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Jessie wasn’t impressed.
As she and Karen got out of the car, she surveyed the strip mall that housed David Lamb’s real estate office.If it was representative of the man’s current situation, he wasn’t doing great.
Unlike the Griffin-Malone office, which was in the tony Larchmont area, Lamb’s tiny storefront was in a crowded section of Koreatown.It was technically close to the neighborhoods he wanted to sell in, but nowhere near as upscale.Jessie suspected that he chose this zip code because, while on paper it was nearby where he wanted to work, the rent was significantly cheaper.
But it looked like he’d gotten what he’d paid for.As she and Kat approached his office, she took note of his neighbors in the strip mall.They included a tobacco shop, a payday lender, and a pizza delivery joint that, according to the dilapidated sign above the door, was named ‘Piza Palac.’
“Doesn’t look all that appetizing, huh?”Karen noted as they passed by the delivery place.
“I don’t know,” Jessie said.“If I hadn’t already had lunch and I was carrying a vat of Pepto-Bismol, maybe I’d give it a try.”
“Hard pass,” Karen said with an upturned nose.
They stopped in front of a nondescript sign on Lamb’s office door that read simply “Lamb Realty.”Karen’s nose stayed upturned when they entered the office, but for a different reason, which Jessie soon discovered.As a small bell above the door tinkled, she quickly took note of a musty, dank scent that made her wonder if a water leak had done something to the carpet.
The interior was no more impressive than the outside.The thick gray carpet felt spongey under her feet.The tiny waiting area was comprised of four metal folding chairs and one plastic coffee table with a tattered, months-old copy ofArchitectural Digestand a two-week old sports section from theLos Angeles Times.A second door that she assumed led to Lamb’s inner office appeared to be made out of particle board.Jessie was contemplating how resentful Lamb might be about his circumstances when the door opened.
Standing in front of them was a short, slender man with thinning black hair.Jamil had sent them a small dossier on the guy on their way over, including his driver’s license.Jessie thought that this was the rare time when someone’s license photo looked better than they did in person.
Lamb was 32, with no criminal record, unless one counted the three speeding tickets he’d gotten in the last five years.Beth had checked the home listings on his website and found them wanting.
“They’re technically in the same neighborhoods that Griffin-Malone serves, but all his places look to be in disrepair or are generally uninspiring.I think he’s getting the leftovers.”
If his office was any indication of how his work was going, Jessie believed Beth’s analysis.
“How can I help you ladies?”he asked, sounding almost surprised to have anyone come into his place unexpectedly.“Are we looking for a cozy landing spot for the lovebirds?”
Jessie was immediately put off.It seemed fairly presumptuous to make any assumptions about the nature of their relationship without knowing anything about them.Not the most diplomatic start to the interview.Karen looked equally startled that he’d just barrel into his first interaction with them so clumsily.Jessie briefly considered playing into his assumption to lull him onto complacency and then catch him off guard.But Karen shut that down immediately.
“We’re with the LAPD, Mr.Lamb,” she said sharply, pulling out her badge and ID.“I’m Detective Bray and this is Ms.Hunt, a police consultant.We have some questions for you.”
Lamb looked taken aback before seeming to regroup.
“About a home, I’m hoping?”he said with a thin smile.
Jessie half-admired the sad attempt at humor but knew it wouldn’t win any points with her partner.
“No,” Karen said.“About Lauren Mitchell.”
David Lamb’s face fell upon hearing the name.
“What about her?”he asked coldly.
“We’ve recently uncovered a series of text messages you sent her, several of which could be reasonably construed as threats,” Karen told him, not yet ready to talk about her murder.Like Jessie, she was likely hoping that he’d reference the woman’s death, implicating himself.The killing wasn’t yet public knowledge.
