Sam watched her mouth form a perfect ‘O’. “Markus Ellenbeck’s company?”
“Yes, do you know him?”
“He comes into Pearl Club all the time. God, no wonder,” she mumbled.
Nolan leaned forward in her chair. “No wonder what?”
“Ryan and Markus hated each other. I thought it was just jealousy.”
“What do you mean?”
“Markus is a huge flirt.” She gestured to her black eye. “That’s what this was about. They were both at Pearl last night, and Markus told me to steer clear of Ryan because he was a ‘flaming asshole.’ I wasn’t sure why until now.”
“Was there a confrontation?”
“No. They were at opposite ends of the bar and ignored each other.”
Sam processed this new information. Melody was very selective about the things she shared. He hadn’t known about Ryan until last night, and now another drama he’d been ignorant of was unfolding in front of him.
Nolan flipped a page in her notebook. “Did Mr. Ellenbeck ever make any threats against Mr. Gallagher?”
“No, of course not. Markus isn’t like that.”
“How do you know? Do you have a relationship with him?”
Melody looked horrified. “No.”
Nolan glanced at Crawford and there was some silent, implicit exchange between them. “Ms. Traeger, you were in contact with Mr. Gallagher this morning before he was killed.”
“He’d been texting me. I texted him back.”
“You threatened him. Listen, I can understand how angry you must have been, but a death threat is very serious. And it doesn’t look good.”
“You don’t think … I didn’t kill him!”
“There was no forced entry and no signs of struggle in the apartment, so it’s likely he knew his assailant. We also believe they had a key. You own a small caliber gun, the same kind that killed Mr. Gallagher; and as we mentioned, he was shot. You also have a rap sheet. None of those things look good, either.”
Melody sat up stiffly, and her posture, her expression, both seethed indignation. “Yes, I have a gun, I’m a woman living alone in Los Angeles. And I also have a rap sheet. Misdemeanor drug charges, not murder, and there’s a lot of daylight between the two.”
Sam wasn’t privy to the death threat piece of the puzzle, or the gun or rap sheet, and he felt disassociated, like a spectator watching some fabulous disaster unfold. Markus Ellenbeck was a suspect, but Melody was, too. And by extension, he was as well. An angry, abused woman with a record and a firearm making death threats, and her unstable protector, one who’d killed in war—and once you killed, it got easier. They’d gotten together and decided to exact the ultimate revenge for a black eye. Case solved, grab some beers, call it a day.
“Do you have a key or keycard to Mr. Gallagher’s building or his apartment?” Crawford asked.
“No, I don’t. I didn’t kill Ryan. Check my gun, it hasn’t been fired since the last time I went to the range four months ago. And Sam and my neighbor Teddy will alibi me for this morning.”
Sam nodded. “Melody was here until about ten, then she went home.”
“Your neighbor Teddy said he spoke with you this morning, but then went surfing for a few hours. Can anyone else alibi you during that time?”
“No, but I didn’t leave the apartment.”
“You mentioned roses and a break-in in your threatening text,” Nolan consulted her notebook. “Ms. Traeger, let’s walk through things from the beginning, starting with last night.”
Sam watched the two detectives as unobtrusively as possible while Melody told her story. They had good poker faces, but you could see almost imperceptible shifts in their expressions as they listened. Suspicion, empathy, ambivalence, possibly even disappointment—she wasn’t making an outright confession and holding out her wrists for the bracelets.
When Melody got to the part of the story about the black Jeep, Nolan and Crawford both reacted with subdued alarm, as they should have because it was spooky. Sam wondered if either of them were thinking about the black Jeep that had run over Katy Villa. Probably not, there was nothing to connect the two incidents, at least not in their minds, and they were arguably the sanest people in the room at the moment.
Nolan closed the cover of her notebook. “But you’ve never seen this black Jeep yourself?”
“No. Just Teddy and Sam have noticed it.”
She looked at Sam. “You didn’t happen to get a plate number?”
“No. But it’s a Rubicon, the same model Teddy mentioned.”
“There are a lot of those in Los Angeles. If you see it again, try to get the plate. Ms. Traeger, is it possible Markus Ellenbeck was jealous of your relationship with Mr. Gallagher?”
“He didn’t know we were in a relationship.”
“Can you think of anyone else who might have been?”
“No one knew about it.”
“Somebody entered your apartment through a window and left you roses, and your neighbor has seen a black Jeep outside your building on multiple occasions. And there was one here this morning when you were. Think hard about acquaintances, coworkers, past associates, any customers at Pearl Club who may have made you uncomfortable.”
“You think I’m being stalked,” she said flatly. “Stupid question, sorry.”
“There’s nothing we can do without a direct threat, so be careful. You too, Mr. Easton. If this really is a problem, you’re on their radar as well.”
Sam nodded and the detectives shifted their focus to him. It was his turn.
“Did you know Ryan Gallagher?”
“I didn’t even know he existed until Melody showed up here last night with a black eye.”
“Markus Ellenbeck?”
“I know who he is, everybody at Pearl Club does, he’s famous. But I’m a bar back, I don’t spend time at the front of the house.”
“Can you tell us about your morning after Ms. Traeger left?”
“I went jogging, then ate lunch here with my wife. After that, I had a doctor’s appointment, then went to work at Pearl Club.”
“Busy day,” Crawford commented.
Definitely too busy to kill, but Sam decided to keep the remark to himself. “Very.”
“We’d like to speak with your wife. Is she here?”
“No, we’re separated.”
“Who is your doctor?”
“Dr. Lynette Frolich.”
“Where does she work?”
“She has a private practice on Wilshire Boulevard, and she’ll confirm I was at my appointment. For the record, I didn’t kill Ryan Gallagher and neither did Melody.”
Nolan cocked a brow at him, then stood. “Thank you both for your time. We’ll be in touch.”
And that was it. The hot seat for both of them, then a bland dismissal meant to assuage any fear in case they needed to circle back and initiate a surprise offensive in the absence of better suspects.
Sam walked them to the door, anticipating the very precious moment when he could close the door behind them and try to forget he’d gotten out of bed this morning. It was amazing how cops could make you feel like a criminal even if you’d done nothing wrong. Or maybe that feeling was a product of the guilt Dr. Frolich was always talking about. It was depressing how his world view had become so very egocentric lately, and unhealthy by any accounting.