Love, Lies & The D.A. (11 page)

“Hey,”
he answers.

“Thank
you. You know, you really didn’t have to do that. I’ll be reimbursing you, so
you know.”

“What
are you talking about? Reimburse me for what?”

“The
dress.”

“What
dress?”

“My
cream dress. I got the new one.”

“Jada,
I didn’t send you anything.”

“Yeah
right. It magically dropped out of the sky?”

“Are
you talking about your wine stained dress?”

“Yes.
The cleaners told me it was ruined, and one just arrived by messenger.”

“Well,
it wasn’t me who sent it… but I have a pretty good idea who did.”

Shit!
Jonathan.

“There
is no way he could know where I got that dress and my size.”

“Trust
me, if he wanted to, he could… and evidently, he wanted to.”

“Are
you sure you’re not pulling my leg?”

“No. I
did not send you that dress. It looks like someone must want to make a pretty
big impression on you, and it’s definitely not me.”

“What
should I do?”

“This
one’s on you, Sweetie.”

“Why
is he doing this?”

You
know why…

“I
told you why.”

“Bobby.
What if he’s doing this to get information from me?”

“I
highly doubt that since this all started before anyone ever knew Richard was
dead.”

I stay
quiet, because for the first time, I realize that statement is true.

“Wouldn’t
it be career suicide for him if he was in anyway associated with me?”

“Some
might see it that way, but perhaps he doesn’t care what people say.”

“He
has to. His job is an elected position.”

“Sweetie,
the only person that can comment or answer any of these questions is Jonathan
Kole himself.”

“Is
that your way of telling me to call him?”

He
breaks out in laughter. “I’m not going to be the one to make that decision. Now,
I have to go. I love you.”

“I
love you back.”

What
kind of game is he playing? Why is he doing this? What does he want from me?
Perhaps I need to call him and ask him. Alternatively, maybe I should shock the
hell out of him and show up at his office. Perhaps then, he’ll realize what he’s
putting at risk. However, option B has the potential to backfire, so perhaps I
need to nix that idea. I know… I should get Charles to deal with his son. Then
again, do I want Charles involved in my personal affairs? I decide to table the
issue for now.

Three
days later,
I’ve heard nothing further from the police or
Charles, and the TV gossip has died down. I prepare to head into San Francisco.
I want to keep a low profile, so I leave late in the afternoon. By the time I
arrive, it’s nightfall. Before heading to the penthouse, I pick up my mail,
thankful that no one is in sight when I walk through the lobby.

Zoë
has done an excellent job redecorating so far. She knows me well. I guess that’s
why I’ve worked with her alone for the last five years. The master and living
room are done to perfection. The work in the guest room has started, but it’s
not complete. The kitchen is ninety percent done. The backsplash and hardware
are missing.

That
leaves the office. I feel almost afraid to check to see if it has remained the
same or if work has been completed. I take a deep breath and walk across the
floors. I am both shocked and relieved when I see the space. It’s completely
redone to the extent where I almost don’t recognize the space anymore. It looks
nothing like my last memory and that I am immensely thankful for.

All
goes as
planned the next day. My car is restored back to its
original beauty, and my staff meeting went well. I am now on my way to my last
appointment of the day to meet with Charles Kole for the first time in person.

It’s
late afternoon when I walk into his office. I’m fifteen minutes early. His
secretary is getting ready to leave for the day. She directs me to a conference
room and tells me that he’s wrapping up with another client and will be out to
see me shortly. After setting a tray with some coffee and refreshments on the
massive conference table, she leaves for the day.

I walk
towards the expanse of windows, coffee in hand. The views from the room are
beautiful. It reminds me of the views from Richard’s townhouse.

I’ve
been worried about going to prison for a murder I didn’t commit. However, as I
stand here alone, I wonder who did this and why? A knock on the door
interrupts my thoughts. As I
glance across the room, piercing grey eyes meet mine.

“Jada,”
he says slowly, stepping into the room. He looks absolutely fetching, clad in a
navy suit and a crisp white shirt.

“Hi. I
didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Neither
did I.”

“Are
you back in town for good?”

“I don’t
think so… I’ll probably be splitting my time.”

“Look,
about the other day—”

“Jada.”
The tall and handsome older version of Jonathan walks into the room,
interrupting our conversation. Jonathan got everything from him, but his eyes
are blue. I suppose years from now, Jonathan will have salt and pepper colored
hair and possibly a mustache to match his father’s.

An
awkward silence fills the space, and he looks questioningly at Jonathan, then
me. I know he feels that he interrupted something. I have to end this
strangeness.

“Hi…
hi Charles, it’s so nice to finally meet you in person,” I say, enclosing his
hand between mine.

“You
too. You obviously know my son. Although I’m not quite sure why he’s here.”

“Ah,
yeah. I came in here looking for you. But I unexpectedly ran into Jada. You
have a minute? It won’t be long. I have to get back to my office.”

Charles
looks at me, seemingly asking for permission.

 “Sure,”
I reply.

Jonathan
looks at me in a we-have-to-finish-this-conversation sort of way and exits the
room. His father follows closely behind.

Ten
minutes later, Charles returns. He pours himself a cup of coffee.

“How
have you been?” he asks.

“I’m
dealing with it. This is all very scary. The greatest offence I’ve ever been
accused or suspected of is speeding.”

“Try
not to worry. We’ll get you through this.”

“Have
the investigators found anything?”

“Yes.
I wanted to go over some things with you.” He pulls out his laptop and a thick
file with my name on it and sits next to me at the large table.

“Your
joint bank account
—did
you know that there were
regular withdrawals placed into an offshore bank in the Cayman Islands?”

“No.
We used that account to pay for wedding expenses. We planned to pay our joint
expenses from that account after we were married. How much money are we talking
about?”

“Ten
thousand dollars a month…”

“When
we opened that account, each of us put in a hundred thousand dollars. Richard
managed it. There should have been anywhere between one-hundred-and-thirty-five
to one-hundred-and-fifty-thousand dollars left in that account. We initially
were going to have a big wedding but changed our minds. I haven’t checked it,
but I did keep track of wedding costs.” I dig into my satchel for my laptop.
“Ten thousand dollars is a sizable amount of money. Why wouldn’t he mention
that?”

“I was
hoping you might have some idea.”

“What
is the balance on that account? The one in the Cayman Islands?”

“Close
to seven million dollars. The account is registered under the name Clip
Holdings.”

“I
have no idea who or what that is. This makes no sense. Richard and I had only
discussed our finances together. I have no idea what he spent his money on
outside of our relationship. We made a list of expenses we’d have as a couple
and agreed to split the costs fifty-fifty, but he never indicated he had any
issue or there was any problem whatsoever.”

“Do
you have a copy of those finances?”

I nod.
“I’m emailing it to you right now.”

Minutes
later, Charles says, “Jada, we have some huge discrepancies here.” He hands me
a sheet of paper. “This is a list of Richard’s expenses the investigators
provided me with.”

I look
at the list, and I’m shocked to find out that almost every single amount for
all his expenses are doubled on my sheet. I take a deep breath and massage my
temples. I feel a headache looming.

“This
means my fiancé was swindling money from me.”

“It
would appear so.”

“I can’t
believe this. By the look of this, he would have made twenty-five grand every
month. What was his salary?”

“Seven
hundred thousand a year. That doesn’t include bonuses. Bonuses could increase
that amount significantly.”

“I don’t
understand any of this. Why? Surely he made enough money.”

“We’re
still trying to put the pieces together. Let’s talk a little bit about his
travelling.”

“What
about it?”

“He’s
travelled to Seattle, Portland, San Diego, L.A., Reno, and Las Vegas. Does that
sound correct?”

“All
but Reno and Las Vegas. He’s been there recently?”

Charles
nods. “Interesting you should ask that. Every single time he traveled… to
anywhere, he made a detour to either Reno or Las Vegas. Most of the time, the
bulk of the trip was spent in those two places.”

“Great.
So now not only was he stealing from me, he was lying to me about where he
went. Was he there two weeks ago?”

“Yes,
he was… in Las Vegas.”

“Were
there other affairs?”

“So
far, one we can find. A married woman named Alison McNabb, but your friend also
accompanied him on many of those trips. She was also the one who discovered his
body and called the police.”

“What?”

“I’m
sorry. I know all this must be shocking.”

“When
did their affair start?”

“From
what we can tell, about nine months ago.”

“This
is unbelievable,” I say, rising to my feet and strolling away from the table. I
pace the windows.

“How
did I not notice any of this? We saw each other almost every day. Spoke to each
other several times a day. Stayed at each other’s place several times a week.
How could I be so stupid not to notice or be suspicious of anything?”

“You
trusted him.”

“He
never gave me a reason not to. Until I walked in on him and Koto. Obviously,
the police must have all this information… They still think I killed him?”

“I
guess they’re trying to characterize you as a pissed off ex.”

“That’s
ridiculous.”

“Look,
I think we’ve gone over enough for now. You’re going to be in town for a
while?”

“I
think when I leave this office I might head straight back to Lake Tahoe.”

“I’m
sorry.”

“Me,
too. You know where to find me if you need me.”

We
shake hands, and he escorts me to the elevator.

“Look,
Jada, I know all of this has been very overwhelming and worrisome, but we’ll
get you through this.”

“Overwhelming
is the understatement of the year.”

“I
know…” he says, looking at me sadly. “But I will do everything within my power
to get you past this.”

“Thanks.”
The elevator door opens, and I wave him goodbye. I try to decide if I should
head back to my penthouse or hit the road bound for Lake Tahoe.

The
doors open to the underground parking lot. As I walk towards my car, I hear the
shutters of numerous cameras go off. I look behind me, and I see swarms of
reporters with cameras running towards me. As I approach the car, another set
are also heading towards me. There must be thirty or forty of them. They
surround me, and I’m not sure what to do.

It’s
a scary experience. I try to remain calm, but all these people are shouting,
calling out my name and asking me questions. I try to focus, but I feel like I
can’t breathe. I feel woozy, I lose my balance, and then everything goes black.

I open
my eyes to very bright lights. I hear loud sirens. I see a man and a woman. The
woman smiles at me and tells me to remain calm. I finally realize I’m in an
ambulance. I close my eyes.

A
while later, I reopen them. There are no sirens. There are bright lights, but
it is mostly quiet, with the exception of a few muffled voices. I am in the
hospital. I’m eventually able to sit up.

A few
minutes later, a short Indian woman, probably in her fifties, enters the room.
Her nametag reads Dr. Pricilla Parsaud.

“Hi,
Ms. McLean.”

“Dr. Parsaud.”

“How
do you feel?”

“A
little anxious but at least I can breathe. I have a headache and the tips of my
fingers tingle.”

“You
had a panic attack. You’re very stressed. Let me check you vitals.”

She
goes through all the normal procedures.

“Your
blood pressure is still very high. I want you to lie back… try to relax.”

I look
at my watch and realize about forty-five minutes have gone by.

“Will
I be able to go home soon?”

“Maybe
later, but not right now. You’ll need to call a friend to come pick you up. I
won’t let you leave alone in this condition.”

I
think of whom I could call. Unfortunately, one of the people I’d usually call
is dead, and the other is persona non grata. It’s too bad Bobby lives in
Florida. I pick up my phone, and I have a missed call from Ian. Perfect. He
will help.

I call
him, and with no hesitation, he tells me he’s on his way. An hour later, when
he hasn’t arrived, I call him again. He tells me the traffic is bad outside the
hospital, and the police are trying to restore some order. At the same time,
the door opens. Dr. Parsaud walks in and Charles follows behind.

“Jada,”
he says, holding my hand. “I’m so sorry. As soon as I heard, I had to come to
check on you, but the traffic is horrible outside.”

I
quickly tell Ian I’ll call him back.

“Coming
back to San Francisco wasn’t such a great idea after all. I thought I was
losing my mind.”

“You’ll
be okay. I’m not sure with all the commotion outside that I will be able to
take you to your home, but I live minutes away. You can come home with me, and
once things calm down, I’ll take you home.”

“Thank
you. I’d really appreciate that.”

Dr. Parsaud
writes me a prescription and advises me to take the meds if I get another
attack. After filling it out at the pharmacy, I walk with Charles to his car.

Thank
God for tinted windows. He slips me into the back seat of his black Bentley
Mulsanne—apparently the make and color of choice for the Kole men. Soon, we
drive through the Pacific Heights area to his home.

On the
way, I call Ian and he is tremendously thankful when I tell him I got another
ride. He then tells me that reporters are outside my condo as well.

We
arrive at Charles’s house. He welcomes me in. It’s old world European in style.
Not necessarily my preference, but I appreciate its beauty. The foyer is grand,
with a stunning circular staircase that welcomes one in. He escorts me to the
living room and the views are unbelievable. The city’s iconic views are
visible, from the Golden Gate Bridge to Alcatraz and the East Bay Hills.

“Charles,
this is spectacular.”

“I’m
lucky to be able to call this home. We’ve raised all our kids here. I wouldn’t
live anywhere else.”

“Who
would with views like that?”

“Daddy.”

I hear
the female voice coming from behind. I immediately turn my attention to her.
Whom should I see standing in front of me? None other than
Malibu Barbie.
I’m
almost certain I can feel the heat rising in my cheeks. I blush, completely
embarrassed.

“Jada,
I’d like you to meet my daughter Megan. Megan, meet my client Jada.”

Your
daughter… ha. That makes her Jonathan’s sister…

“It’s
a pleasure to meet you,” she replies, seemingly unperturbed by my presence.

I’m
starting to wonder if she even remembers who I am.

“Same
here,” I reply while shaking her hand.

“Can I
get you something to drink?”

“Sure,
Sweetheart. You know what I like to unwind.”

“Jada?”

“Some
fruit juice please, if you have any.”

“Sure,”
she replies perkily and then disappears out of the room.

“How
many kids do you have?” I ask as he offers me a seat.

“Four.
Megan’s the baby and the only girl. There were two boys before her, now twenty-six
and thirty-one. Jonathan is the eldest.”

“That’s
a big family. It’s just my older brother Bobby and me.”

I
suddenly worry a bit and think to call him so he doesn’t worry, but then I
remember he should be on a plane with Val heading to St. Lucia. I’ll call when
I get home tonight.

Megan
returns, but beside her is a beautiful blonde woman. Charles’s wife, I guess. I
see where Jonathan gets his beautiful piercing greys.

“Honey.”
Charles stands, kissing her on the cheek.

“Jada,
this is my lovely wife Caroline.”

“It’s
a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Kole,” I respond, shaking her hand.

“You
too. But you must call me Caroline.”

“It’s
a pleasure, Caroline.” I stand corrected.

“Dinner
is almost ready; are you hungry?”

I
haven’t thought about food, but when she asks, I realize I am famished.

I need
to use the washroom. My hands have been all over the place. Megan shows me to
the room and explains to me that the dining room is at the end of the hall. I look
at myself in the mirror. My hair is slightly messy. I run a comb through it,
powder my nose, and then touch up my lipstick. I had better hurry back. I don’t
want to keep them waiting. I quickly wrap up and open the door. As I step out
into the narrow corridor, Jonathan is standing directly in front of me.

“Jada.”
My name rolls slowly off he lips.

“Hi,”
I reply politely. I’m going to try not to be a smart-ass in his parents’ house.

“Fancy
seeing you here.” He grins at me. “Are you okay? You’re all over the news.”

I
exhale. “I’m fine. Coming back to San Francisco… bad idea.”

“Are
you sure you’re alright? You didn’t look so good.”

“I’ll
be okay. Thanks for asking.”

“We
better head in. Mom doesn’t like it when the food gets cold.”

“Sure,
lead the way,” I reply.

We
enter the grandiose dining room. There are now two new faces at the table. One
looks vaguely familiar from that day when Jonathan drove me home from the
airport. They’re the other two sons, I assume. They smile when they see me, and
Charles introduces them. Daniel and Pierce are their names.

Jonathan
pulls out a chair for me and sits next to me. While dinner is served, I sit and
watch the family dynamic unfold. They’re a close-knit family. From what I
gather, dinners together happen frequently at their house. It reminds me of the
close-knit family I used to have—until Bobby went off to school, and a few
years later, I did the same. Then Daddy died.

The
ambience is relaxed. They laugh and fool around with each other about
everything. Personally, it’s a pleasure to sit and observe.

Megan
apparently just finished law school and is now doing her internship with her dad.
Pierce is an artist and owner of his own gallery in downtown San Francisco, and
Daniel, the second and quietest of the lot, is an accountant. Until recently,
Caroline was a high school principal but is now retired. She now dedicates her
time at the Crisis Center for Abused Women and Children.

I feel
fatigued. I wonder if the reporters are tired of waiting. As soon as I get some
rest and I’m able, I’m going to get in that car—
Shoot, my car. Damn. Now I
have to find a way to pick it up.
San Francisco has been so overwhelming. I
can’t wait to get back to Lake Tahoe.

“Hey,
you okay?” Jonathan whispers.

I
smile and nod but say nothing.

My
stomach is full, but my headache has gotten worse. Right now, I need a shower,
some aspirin, and a bed. I glance at the clock on the wall; it’s almost nine.

“Tired?”
Jonathan asks quietly, his chin leaning on his laced fingers.

“That
obvious?”

“You’ve
had a long day. I can take you home if you like.”

“I don’t
think that’s a good idea,” I murmur. “We don’t need the DA seen with a murder
suspect in a high profile case.” I let the words slip out before I can stop
myself and close my eyes, disappointed about my blunder.

“Maybe
you should let me worry about that,” he responds.

I look
at him in resignation and take a glimpse across the room. I notice Charles
staring at us. I can’t read his gaze, but I know somewhere in the back of his
mind he must be saying something to the effect of ‘you had better not be
discussing that case.’ I smile and wiggle my fingers at him. He raises his snifter
in reply. I can’t help notice the similarities in his and Jonathan’s mannerisms.

All
Jonathan’s siblings excuse themselves from the table. He is having a very quiet
exchange with his mom. I can’t hear a word. I look over at Charles. He too is
exhausted. He drifts off to sleep at the opposite end of the table.

Within
minutes, Caroline is on her feet encouraging her husband to go to bed.

“I
have to take Jada home,” he says.

“We’ve
made other arrangements. Now. Bed.”

“I can’t
thank you enough, Charles, for everything.”

He
squeezes my hands tightly. “We’ll chat tomorrow, and please be careful. I don’t
want anything to happen to my new favorite client.”

I
thank everyone else and say goodnight, even though at this point, I have no
clue how I’m getting home. Jonathan tugs my hand gently, and I assume that
means I should follow. Through the kitchen and down a few stairs, we’re in the
garage. Two Mercedes Benz vehicles await. We get into the SUV, and after he
asks my address, we start the drive home.

“Thank
you… to you and your family.”

“You’re
welcome.”

“So…
care to explain what happened between you and
Malibu Barbie
?”

“I
knew you wouldn’t be able to keep that smart mouth of yours under control for
much longer.”

“Trying
to distract me? Why would you make up a story like that?”

In
the back of my mind, I hear Bobby saying,
he
likes you…

I
blush at my realization.

“I
wanted to get your attention.”

“Is
that so?”

Perhaps
I should end this conversation now before it takes me into unwanted territory.

“You
realize what you’re risking by just being with me, right? Don’t you care about
your career? I know ethically you haven’t done anything wrong, but surely in
your business you’re smart enough to know that it’s not always about the truth
but about how things appear.”

“You
sound like my campaign manager.”

“Evidently,
you weren’t listening very well.”

“What
happened to the sweet quiet woman that was at dinner tonight?”

“I
left her at your parents’ house.”

He
laughs heartily. I think it’s the first time I’ve heard him laugh. I don’t know
why, but it makes me smile.

We
drive past his father’s office, and a handful of reporters are still lurking
around the garage entrance.

I
guess I won’t be getting my car anytime soon.

When
we get to my condo building, a dozen or so reporters wait outside. Thank God,
this garage is secure. I use the remote in my purse to open the door. He drives
in, and I immediately close it behind us. No one is in sight.

“Would
you like me to escort you to your door?”

“You
know the answer to that. But thank you. I’ll be okay. Once I’m in the elevator,
it will take me straight up.”

“Private
access?”

“Yep…”

“Please.
Still be careful.”

“I
will. Thanks.”

“How
will you get your car?”

“I’ll
worry about that when I wake up tomorrow.”

“I can
make arrangements to get it to you if you like.”

“So
can I, thank you very much.”

He
hesitates. I think he wants to ask me something.

“74-78-97-98,”
I say.

“What?”

“74-78-97-98.
That’s the code you’ll need to get out. Drive carefully.”