Jessie waited until Sam had parallel parked in a space directly across the street from Bradford’s apartment building before bringing up the topic she worried might make him crash the car.
“So are you going to ask this Claire girl out or not?” Her tone was playful but not quite teasing.
His cheeks again turned red. It occurred to Jessie that he and Officer Harper Devery could go head-to-head in a competition for who blushed more easily.
“I don’t think she’s interested,” Sam said.
“That’s not the vibe I got,” Jessie told him. “She hinted that she wouldn’t mind being arrested by you and she made it clear that she isn’t married. She was sending you all the signals, Sam. I think that when this is all over, you should go back and ask her to get coffee with you.”
“I’ll think about it,” he said, though she wasn’t sure he would. “Should we review what Jamil and Beth sent us on Bradford before paying him a visit?”
“Sure,” Jessie said, letting him off the hook for now. “Let’s see what we’ve got. It looks like Bradford has a history of harassment allegations. There are almost half a dozen restraining orders out against him, and at least that many against other members of his group.”
Just then, a new text came in from Jamil.
“Check this out,” Sam said excitedly, scrolling through the message. “Apparently Bradford specifically made disparaging remarks about the Tanakas. He mocked their wedding on social media and even said that having a non-white person running marketing for a movie studio would lead to ‘infiltration of traditional culture’ whatever that means.”
“I’ll tell you what it means,” Jessie said. “That Bradford was well aware of at least one of our victims. That’s more than enough to have a chat with him, I’d say.”
They got out of the car and made their way across the busy street. Thomas Bradford lived in an old but well-maintained complex that looked like a converted motel. There was a tall, metal fence running around the entirety of the complex. They went to the main gate, which had a keypunch entry panel. There was a directory of names and unit numbers next to the panel, which confirmed that Bradford lived in unit 106.
They were about to access the Knox Box, essentially a lockbox for police and emergency personnel to quickly access apartment buildings, when a middle-aged woman approached the gate from the inside. She gave them a suspicious look as she reached for the door but said nothing. Apparently she wasn’t suspicious enough to question them or object to them entering as she left.
They walked past the small courtyard pool in front of the building, where a young Latina mom watched her toddler son splash happily on the steps at the shallow end. Two older gentlemen, also Latino, sat at a patio table nearby, playing chess. Jessie and Sam reached the door to unit 106. Staring at the number, she had an idea that she knew the detective wouldn’t like. She motioned for him to join her off to the side, where they couldn’t be seen through the peephole or the curtained window.
“You know that if we identify ourselves, there’s no way he’s going to let us in,” she said. “He might not even speak to us if he knows we’re investigating two murders.”
“Yeah, so what?” Sam wanted to know. “Most suspects aren’t enthused to talk to us. We muddle through anyway.”
“Maybe we don’t have to.”
“What does that mean?” His eyebrows were raised.
“It’s means that while I’m paid by the LAPD, I’m not a law enforcement officer. I’m more of a consultant. So I don’t have to read anyone their rights before questioning them. I don’t have to have a warrant to enter a home.”
“You’re not suggesting breaking into Bradford’s apartment?” Sam asked, appalled.
“Of course not,” she said. “I’m going to knock on his door and ask for his help.”
“And why would he do that?”
"Two reasons," she explained. "First, I'll flirt with him like Claire was doing with you. Unlike you,he’llprobably take the hint. And second, because I’m white and intend to play that up.”
Sam shook his head. “This sounds like an unnecessary risk, and my supervisor, who happens to be your husband, made it very clear to the whole detective squad that you were never to be put into harm’s way when it could be avoided.”
Jessie stared him down. “Are you telling me that you’re going to give me a hard time because my man is overprotective?”
“Yes!” he said without apology.
“Look, I’m far more likely to get a guy like this to open up if he’s not being hyper-vigilant. If you knock on his door, he’s going to have his guard up. He won’t say anything.”
“Claire suggested that he might be happy to spout off to us,” he countered.
“Sure, about his prejudices. But about the specifics of his online attacks on someone who was just murdered? Considerme skeptical. And we’re on a clock here. If the pattern holds, someone might be killed this evening. We can’t afford for Bradford to shut down on us if he had valuable information.”
That clearly gave Sam pause. After a moment, he went in a different direction. “What if he gets aggressive?”
“You’ll be right outside,” Jessie reminded him as she removed her gun and holster and handed it to him. “If things get sketchy, I’ll just use a safe word, or better yet a safe phrase.”
