Marta signaled to David and me to shut up, and we acquiesced.
“A bit after 7 a.m., Mr. Ramos, while pursuing his professional investigation of Mr. Dashing Henry’s murder, found a piece of evidence that linked Fred Appleton to the scene of Henry’s death,” Marta explained.
“What evidence?” Clooney asked. He was taking notes.
“You saw the sticker, right?” I intervened, asking David. That’s how I’d figured out Fred’s involvement.
“What sticker?” David’s brows drew together.
“The Procedural Writers Association of America sticker that Fred has on his car. The first time I saw the Prius on CCTV, I thought the sticker was a red star over a green background, then I realized it’s the ugly-ass logo of the association. It’s not a star but a quill and inkwell,” I explained.
“As usual, you lost me,” David said. My sister and Clooney seemed to be following our conversation as if it was the most engrossing tennis match.
“This isn’t even a pop culture reference. The only reason I know the fucking logo is because I’m a member of the Procedural Writers Association,” I added.
“I know you’re a member, but no. I hadn’t realized about the sticker or logo or whatever,” David said. He was starting to get his natural glow back but still looked a bit ashen.
“Then how did you figure it out?”
“With the CCTV from the parking area, but the one from the camera you noticed at the garage.” David didn’t mention that we were breaking into Henry’s car when I saw that particular camera. “We hadn’t fully watched all the footage the first time, but I did it this morning and recognized Fred Appleton at the parking area of the Eastern Columbia.”
“You recognized him?” I asked, confused. He wouldn’t be able to tell Ryan Gosling from Ryan Reynolds, or Chris Pine from any of the other Hollywood Chrises. Hell, David wouldn’t even know how many Hollywood Chrises there were or that they were a thing. And he recognized a showrunner?
“He was your boss,” he said. And that explained it. It also told me that even if I had been convinced he didn’t pay any attention to anything Hollywood related, he did when it came to my career. Because he cared.
“What I don’t understand,” my sister started telling Detective Clooney while David and I were still having a moment, “is how my client was able to find a crucial piece of evidence for this investigation that puts Fred Appleton at the scene of the crime while you couldn’t and actually, in fact, were about to arrest Mr. Ramos.”
“We never saw that particular CCTV footage, the one where you see Fred Appleton. We’d seen the ugly-ass sticker and were wondering what it was. In fact, we’ll need your client to surrender the CCTV with Appleton in it,” Clooney said, defensive. “How the hell did you get it?” he asked David.
“From the security guys at my building,” David explained. “They told me the police had also been there and they’d also requested the videos.”
“We did,” Clooney said. “We watched everything. There’s no Fred Appleton anywhere.”
“Even in the video from the camera pointing toward the elevator?” David asked.
“I don’t think we got that video,” Clooney admitted. “And we were told we’d been giveneverything.”
“I think the guys told me they’d just installed that camera a few days ago. They must have forgotten about it,” David said.
David had probably gone out of his way to be extra nice to the security team working at the Eastern Columbia. And the fact that I had seen that camera and he was able to ask specifically about it had gotten us more CCTV material than the cops.
“My client will share the extra CCTV material with you,” my sister said.
“Will he now?” Clooney said. “Will he also share how one of my partner’s informants brought us Henry’s stolen Patek Philippe today?”
Both me and my sister looked at David with extra curiosity.
“I would advise my client not to make any statement about that particular subject until his whole legal team is able to confer with him,” Marta finally said.
“I see.” Clooney chuckled. “Have your client and thewholelegal team drop by the station in an hour, will you? For now, care to finish telling me what happened here?” Clooney pointed to the car crash.
I cleared my throat. “I was summoned to a 7 a.m. walking meeting with Fred Appleton. He angered the hell out of me, and I had a sort of epiphany to start sayingnoand speaking my mind more often, not that’s relevant to you or anything. I also deceived Fred into believing that I was close to uncovering Henry’s killer. When we said goodbye, he tried running me over with his car. My sister appeared out of nowhere and stopped him,” I summarized. “How did you find me?” I asked David and Marta.
“We read the messages you wrote to Marta and then stalked your location,” David explained.
“Stalked my location?” I asked, confused.
“Remember how I set a system with the Find My thingy on iPhone for the whole family to see where the others were?” Marta said matter-of-factly.
