Cal said nothing at first; he slowly stuck the key into the ignition and fired up the engine. He ran his fingers through his sweaty pompadour--dislodging a few hairs from their neat combover--and began the unholy drive to Danielle's. Goosebumps ran up his arms; her home was a place of sanctuary for him, and now he was forced to be the one to defile it. For the first few minutes, he said nothing, his eyes lingering on the scenery as if he was looking upon New York for the final time. He knew he was not, but Cal was well aware that no matter which way this case splintered, it would eviscerate him.
At the very least, it would no longer be convenient for Danielle to see him. She was a resourceful and cunning woman, but her arrangement with Calvin was predicted on the ideal that he kept the police away from her. Now here he was, bringing the most resourceful cop the precinct had seen in decades straight to her doorstep.
Finally, Cal decided to speak. "You must not be a man of cinema, Ash." He tried to lace his words with humor, but the delivery came out flat and wobbly. He couldn't even hide how distressed he had become. "...Well, most people learned of her when she was little, back on this weird fucking family values show that they aired in the 30s. Can't remember the name...Righteous Road? Terrible. But something about her drew Hitchcock's attention and she starred in The Grand Staircase as a teenager. Ever since then, she's been a household name. And she's grown up to be irresistible."
Cal bit his lip and tried to more clearly focus on the road, looking away from Ashley. "I don't have any dirt on her. From what I understand, she's a mysterious character, but as far as the NYPD can tell, she's clean as a whistle," he lied. "I have no idea why she would have been at that shitty club. Let alone for two consecutive nights. Sometimes, directors and agents go to public places to have meetings with their clients. Perhaps she was there on business." Again, Cal shifted in his chair. The more he lied, the more he continued to weave a gigantic delicate web that could be incinerated in an instant if Dani couldn't scrounge together an alibi.
After an uncomfortable half hour of driving, Cal parked on the street below a massive apartment structure that looked akin to a castle. He took a deep breath and then looked over at Ash to see if he had anything left to say. Sweat had started to deconstruct his hairdo.
"This is her place, according to the yellow pages," muttered Calvin. Come on, Dani. Do not fuck this up.