Love, Lies & The D.A. (40 page)

“Well,
get Phillip here. I have no clue what this man is capable of, and honestly… I’m
not trying to find out.”

He
calls him.

“It’s
me. What the fuck is going on? Jada is sick; she cannot be doing this. Fine…
fine… I’ll see you soon.”

“Was
that really necessary?” I ask. “I know you’re upset, but this is not Phillip’s
fault. I don’t want to alienate the very people that are trying to help me out
of this mess.”

He
stares at me in silence for a few moments.

“Maybe
I was a little harsh. But they need to wrap this up soon. They’re going to be
here shortly.”

Jonathan
apologizes
to Phillip when he and Douglas walk through the door.

“So
what have you all found out?” Jonathan asks.

“Chris
Hostin has dropped off the radar. He hasn’t been seen at his apartment in
weeks. He was fired from his job in early December,” Phillip says.

Douglas
continues, “It looks like when he approached you, he had already been fired.
That supports what you thought Johnny, that he approached her because of you.
He had no reason to be questioning you for any story.”

“I don’t
understand why,” I respond, “we weren’t seeing each other at the time.”

“Is
there any possibility that the two of you might have been seen together in
public before then?” Phillip asks.

“Yes,”
Jonathan and I chorus.

“When?”

“The
second Sunday after Richard’s death,” I reply. “My brother was returning home
to Miami. Jonathan drove me home from the airport. He was driving my car.”

“Did
either of you see Hostin that day?”

“I
didn’t,” I reply.

“Neither
did I,” Jonathan concurs, “but it’s one of the few times we were together for
an extended period of time.”

“We
ran into each other casually a few times in Lake Tahoe, and maybe twice here,
but our meetings weren’t very long,” I say.

“Where?”
Phillip asks.

“Twice
at the Café Rus in Lake Tahoe.”

“Do
you remember the dates?”

We
both shake our heads.

“Then
one time at his dad’s office, and later that same day at his dad’s house.”

“I
also dropped her home that night, but I was driving my mom’s vehicle.”

“Date?”

“I can’t
remember the date, but it was well documented because I collapsed in front of
all those reporters when they came after me, and it made the nightly news.”

Jonathan
continues, “On New Year’s Eve, we were together; that was also the same night
someone tried to break into her house at Lake Tahoe. But we were at a private
party that night. Chris Hostin was not there.”

“You
know, there is a possibility that he saw us at your dad’s burial… I didn’t see
him, but it was in a public place.”

“I’d
forgotten that.” Jonathan nods. “I suppose that’s a possibility.”

“He
could have seen you all together at any one of those times and assumed you were
a couple,” Douglas says. “Then after you recused yourself from her case, it
concretized any suspicions he might have had.”

“Could
be,” I agree.

“We’ll
research any camera evidence or credit card records we can pull from those
places and dates and see if we can place him at any of those locations,”
Phillip says. “We don’t need it, but it would certainly help explain things.”

“So
what else is being done in the mean time?” Jonathan asks.

“We’ve
pulled some DNA from his apartment. We’re trying to see if we can make a match
from any samples that might be in the vehicle.”

“Any
prints?”

“No.
If it’s him, he was very careful. We zoomed in on those pictures; he was
wearing gloves. It looks like he made every effort to cover his tracks.”

“That’s
one issue. What about these messages?” I ask, handing them my phone. “My lawyer
says none of the charges have been dropped, but they’re now demanding money?”

My
landline rings, interrupting our conversation.

“Hello,”
I answer.

“Jada.
It’s Ian. There’s been an explosion at the downtown property in the kitchen.”

What?
Was anyone hurt?” I exclaim.

Jonathan,
Phillip, and Douglas instantaneously look my way.

“Yes.
Two sous chefs.”

“Who?”

“Allan
Reynolds and Patrick Bennoir.”

“Are
they going to be okay?”

“I don’t
know. They’ve been rushed to the hospital.”

“See
to it that they get the best possible care. How did this happen?”

“I don’t
know. They passed their inspection just yesterday.”

“Do me
a favor and get the driver to come pick me up at my penthouse in an hour.”

“Okay.
But you should know, someone alerted the media. PR is trying to handle things
right now.”

“Okay.
Have a representative sent to the hospital, and I want no expense spared. I
want Allan and Patrick to be cared for. Meet me at the hotel by noon.”

“I’m
already here.”

“Do
you know who is on the scene?”

“Right
now, the fire department and EMS.”

“Okay.
I’ll see you soon then.”

I end
the call. I’ve never had any of my staff injured on the job in a significant
way.

“What
happened?” Jonathan asks.

“There
was an explosion in the kitchen at the downtown location. Two of my employees
are injured.”

“What’s
their condition?”

“I don’t
know… I have to get down there.”

My
cell phone vibrates on the kitchen island. It’s a private call.

“Jada
speaking.”

“I see
you got my messages.”

“Just
so you know, I don’t take kindly to your threats.”

“I
want my money.”

“None
of the charges have been dropped, and you want your money? You can go straight
to hell.”

Jonathan
is about to snatch the phone from me, but Phillip and Douglas physically hold
him back. I turn my back to him in an effort not to get distracted.

“Really.
I want a million dollars by tomorrow, and if I don’t get it, that little mishap
that happened in your kitchen a while ago will happen again at another one of
those fancy little hotels that you own every day until I get it.”

His
comment silences me. I cannot take that risk. Putting the lives of my staff and
patrons in jeopardy is not one I’m willing to take.

“This
is extortion. Give me your account information.”

“You can
call it whatever the fuck you want, but I want cash.”

“I
have no desire to meet you; either you give me your account information, or you
won’t be seeing a dime from me.”

“I
want cash. You can’t afford to risk your property.”

“And
you can’t afford to lose a million dollars. Either you give me your account
information, or you can kiss that money goodbye.”

My
heart is pounding, my head is throbbing, and I’m shaking like a leaf. I know
this is an extremely volatile and risky proposition. If I’m going to do this, I
have to get some sort of evidence or paper trail out of it.

He
hesitates, then finally gives in and calls out the number and the rest of the
account info. I end the call.

“He
did this… He caused that explosion at the hotel. If I don’t pay him, he’s
threatened to do it at other locations until I pay.”

“The
calls were monitored. We’ll get a trace on it, and that account information you
got will be helpful,” Phillips says.

“I don’t
trust the police on my property. Can you all handle this?”

“We
can’t without them being suspicious. But we’ll see if the ATF can take a lead
on the case, and we’ll send some of our guys in—undercover.”

“Great.
I’m going to have security increased at all locations. Look, I need to get
ready and out of here. I need to ensure that this is handled properly.”

I
leave Jonathan in the kitchen with the men and head to my room to get ready. I
can see by the look on his face that he’s not pleased about me heading out, but
my staff and guests’ needs take precedence over mine. I manage to get myself
ready in a record thirty minutes.

I am
pulling my purse and things together when Jonathan eventually comes in.

“Jada,
you know I don’t want you doing this, but I understand why you have to. Please
be careful out there.”

“I
will. I promise,” I reply, hugging him.

“As
soon as I’m done in court, I’ll come to be with you, wherever you are.”

“That’s
not necessary, but if it will make you feel better, that’s fine.”

“Yes.
That will make me feel better. I’ll help you down. Please call me or text me
any new developments.”

“I
will.”

The
kitchen is
an absolute mess. This happened at my smallest property,
so it’s an easier problem to remedy. The head chef is now working with the chef
from my much larger bay front property that is located ten minutes away. The
ATF were on the scene by the time I got there.

It
looks like my staff will be fine. However, both have undergone varying degrees
of surgery and are in serious but stable condition. Allan has a broken arm and
second degree burns on his arms. Patrick sustained some nasty third degree
burns on his torso and had some lacerations on his arms and a broken finger.
Once all is settled, I’ll head to the hospital to check on them and their
families.

For
now, I hop around on my crutches, making sure the rest of my staff and guests
are cared for, and the other seven properties are secure.

Ian
arranges for the money transfer to my demander.

I have
a conference call with the Chief of Security and General Managers for all the
properties about the increase in security presence that is now in place, and
the staff vigilance that is required.

My PR
department handles a press conference, and it is late evening when the ATF
finally allow us back onto the scene.

Half
of the kitchen will need to be completely renovated, so until that can be
rectified, we change our menu to simple cold cuts and organize a make shift
kitchen in one of the conference rooms. We shuttle our guests to the larger Bay
Front property for meals. It’s not perfect, but in this ten-room hotel, we are
able to make it work for the most part.

I am
wrapping up with a staff meeting when I see Jonathan watching from a distance.
Inwardly, I do backflips. I am so happy to see him. It’s great to have his
support.

 As I
leave the property, the maintenance department removes the damaged equipment,
and the staff cleans what’s left of the space. I am exhausted and my head is
exploding, but I ask Jonathan to take me to the hospital to see my two injured
employees.

Allan
has worked
with me for eight years. When I walk into the room, maybe
six to eight of his friends and family surround him. As I walk in, Jonathan
stands by the door and observes. Allan may not be in the best of health, but he’s
in good spirits, still entertaining his family with his usual sense of humor
and banter.

“Miss Jada,
I know you are not well. Thanks for coming to see me… you too, Mr. DA.”

Jonathan
smiles at him politely, giving him the thumbs up, but he stays silent.

“No
worries. How do you feel?”

“My
hands burn, but it could have been worse. The doctors tell me I’ll be away from
work for a few weeks, though.”

“Don’t
worry about that. Just get better. Your job will be waiting for you. You and
your family will be taken care off.”

“Thank
you… and thanks for the nice private digs too. The nurses have been spoiling me.”
He winks with a huge smile.

I
spend a few more moments with him and his family then move on to see Patrick.
The reception when I get there isn’t the same. Patrick is young. He started as
a dishwasher straight out of high school. Over the last two to three years, my
head chef has been training him. He smiles when he sees me, but a woman who I
assume is his mother isn’t pleased by my presence.

“Why
are you here? You’re responsible for this,” she shouts in my face. Jonathan
rushes to my side, but my look lets him know that I’m okay and he returns to
his spot by the door.

“Mama.
No.” A woman who I suspect is probably his sister escorts her out of the room.

“Ms.
McLean, I’m sorry. Please forgive my mother. She’s afraid. I am the only one
working at home. She’s scared we won’t have a place to live.”

“Patrick,
I would never let that happen. I’ll ensure you are taken care of. You don’t
have to worry about your job or any of these medical expenses. I promise. Are
you comfortable?”

“I am,
very much, thank you. If I weren’t in pain, I’d feel like I was being pampered
at a hotel.”

“Is
there anything I can do to put your mom at ease?”

“She’s
a stubborn woman. I’ll talk to her.”

“Please
let me know if you need anything else.”

“There
is one thing,” he says hesitantly.

“What
is it?”

“Do
you think you might be able to have me moved over to a hospital closer to
Tenderloin?”

“Why?
You’ll get the best care here.”

“I’m
not comfortable with my mom having to travel all this way to come see me. It’s
not safe, and we can’t afford the travel costs.”

Tenderloin
is one of the toughest neighborhoods to live in San Francisco.

“Patrick,
your health is of the utmost importance. I won’t have you moved, but I’ll see
to it that your mother is cared for, and she has a ride available to bring her
here anytime she wants. Is that a fair compromise?”

He
smiles and nods.

“Is
that woman with her your sister?”

“No.
She’s a kind neighbor.”

“So
you and your mother live alone?”

“Yes.
I’m the only one there to take care of her.”

“Don’t
worry. I’ll handle it. She can even stay here with you while you recuperate.
She’ll have everything she needs.”

His
mother walks back into the room with their friend. I can see the worry and fear
in her eyes.

“Ms.
Bennoir, I don’t want you to worry about a thing. I’ll take care of both you
and Patrick. If you like, you can stay here with him while he gets better. If
not, I can have a driver bring you here and back home whenever you want to see
him.”

She
looks at me doubtfully.

“Trust
me… I promise.”

She
eventually cracks into a slight smile then sobs, wrapping her arms around me.
She was, and probably still is, scared. After I advise the hospital staff that
she will be staying throughout Patrick’s stay, we give the neighbor who brought
her here a ride back home.

We
drive through the streets of Tenderloin; homeless people of every race, age,
and sex cover the sidewalks. Every few blocks, groups of unsavory characters
peddle their drugs. There is an extremely heavy police presence. I guess that
can be good or bad, depending on how you choose to look at it. I want to, in
some way, pay the young woman for her time and trouble, but I don’t want to
disrespect or offend her.

“Abby.
Is there some way I can compensate you for your time and trouble today?”

“Ensuring
Ms. Bennoir and Patrick are cared for is enough, thank you,” she replies
politely.

“Did
you have to take time off work?”

“I don’t
work. I’ve been trying to find a stable job for the last year with no luck.”

“What
did you do? What do you enjoy?”

“I’ll
do anything. Dishes. Housekeeping… What I used to enjoy was guest relations. I
used to work up till a year ago, but I lost my job after budget cuts at the
hotel.”

“Do
you take drugs or abuse alcohol?”

She
gasps at my question. “No,” she continues curtly.

I dig
through my purse and write my HR department manager’s name behind the card.

“Here,”
I say, handing her the card. “See this woman sometime tomorrow, and we’ll see
how we can help you.”

“Look,
Miss, I don’t want any handouts.”

“It’s
not a handout,” I retort. “It’s an opportunity. All you have to do is work hard
and not abuse alcohol or drugs. Be punctual, and we should be fine.”

“I
have a daughter. I will need to find someone to take care of her. Is it okay if
I see her in the afternoon?”

“See
her whatever time you like. I’ll let her know to expect you.”

“Thank
you, Miss McLean.”

“Thank
you,” I reply.

After
we drop her off, we drive the rest of the way home in silence. Today has been
exhausting both physically and emotionally. I want a hot bath, a meal, and a
bed. Once we’re in the penthouse, I wrap my arms around Jonathan in a warm and
endearing hug.