But Ollie just shakes his head as Jamie bounces up to the bar and grabs his arm. “I’m taking him back,” she says.
I watch them slide back onto the dance floor. Dangerous.
He’s dangerous, all right. But somehow I don’t think Ollie means it the same way that I do.
“Seriously, Jamie,” I say, as she turns down yet another twisting, winding, darkened Malibu street. “Can’t we just go home?” We are completely lost. The street signs have apparently been hidden by elves. I’m sure it’s to keep the riff-raff out. And we, of course, are firmly among the riff.
We parted ways with Ollie over an hour ago after having eggs and toast and an ocean of coffee at Dukes on Sunset. Only after he’d gone did Jamie tell me that we were going on a mission to find Stark’s new Malibu house. “One of the articles I read said it had beach access. And I used to hang with this guy from Malibu, so I got to know the roads pretty well.”
I, of course, protested that she was insane. But I didn’t protest too loudly. I admit I was curious. And even though I doubted we could find the place, driving around Malibu in the middle of the night seemed just crazy enough to be fun.
Now, however, I am getting tired and a little bit carsick.
“We might as well go home,” I say. “We’re never going to find it.”
“We will,” she insists, pulling over long enough to squint at the map she’s pulled up on her phone. “If it has beach access there aren’t that many streets it can be on. And it’s not like there’s a lot of construction going on right now, especially not for the square footage that a guy like Damien Stark will want. When we get close, we’ll see it.”
“Yeah, but that’s part of the problem, isn’t it? I mean, this isn’t some two-thousand-square-foot house in suburban Texas where you can just wander through the framing and drywall. Even if you find it, there’s going to be a fence and probably security.”
“I just want to see,” she says, edging back out onto the road. “Don’t you? I mean, you can learn a lot about a guy from his taste in buildings, right?”
I don’t answer. She and Ollie have made me think, and the truth is that I don’t know a lot about Damien Stark. I know what the public knows. And I know a few truly intimate details. But the man himself? How much have I seen of the real Damien Stark?
I glance sideways at Jamie, and then the words are out without me even making a conscious decision. “Ollie says Stark is dangerous.”
“Yeah,” she says, surprising me. “He told me. He’s worried about you.”
“I’m fine,” I say, sliding down in the seat and putting my bare feet up on the dash. I’m not going to pursue this. Ollie is just being overprotective. “Dangerous how?” I ask, ignoring all my wise counsel. “I’m not buying his line that it’s all about Stark’s temper.”
“Temper? I don’t think so. He wouldn’t say exactly. I figure he knows something from work. Bender, Twain & McGuire reps Stark, you know. Their corporate department handles all his business stuff, and I guess the rest of the firm handles, you know, everything else.”
“Oh.” I consider that. “Attorney-client privilege?”
“I guess,” Jamie concedes. “I mean, I don’t think Ollie has worked on any of Stark’s stuff directly, he’s too junior. But he’s probably seen files and heard the partners talking.”
“But he didn’t give you any idea what it’s about?”
“Well, no. But it’s pretty obvious, right?”
Not to me. “Obvious?”
“That girl. The one who died.” She pauses at a stop sign and shifts in her seat long enough to glance at me.
“The one you said he dated? What about her?”
“I read a little bit more about it.” She shrugs as I gape at her. “I was bored and I was curious. Anyway, she was asphyxiated. The coroner officially ruled it an accident, but I guess her brother’s been hinting around that Stark was involved.…” She trails off with another shrug.
I feel cold. “He’s saying that Damien killed her?” I try to process the thought, but it won’t fit into my head. I don’t believe it. I can’t believe it.
“I don’t think he’s gone that far,” Jamie says. “I mean, if Damien Stark’s a murder suspect, that would be all over the news, right? And it really isn’t. I just found a few comments on some crap-ass gossip sites. Honestly, I didn’t think anything of it. A powerful guy like Stark must field all sorts of nutcase rumors.” She drives in silence for a moment, and I watch as a frown creeps onto her face.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Dammit, Jamie, what?”
“I was just thinking about Ollie. If it is just Internet bullshit, then why would he know any of this? But if there’s really something to it, then Stark’s lawyers must be all over the brother, you know? Threatening libel or slander or whatever the hell you call it. And a guy like Stark is probably pretty good at controlling the press, right?”
I remember that Evelyn said almost exactly the same thing and feel a little queasy. “I guess. Is that what Ollie told you?”
“No, no. He didn’t say anything specific.” She shrugs. “He’s just worried about you. But honestly, Nik, it’s probably nothing. Just the crap uber-rich guys have to deal with.”
“So who’s the girl?”
“Some socialite type. Sara Padgett.”