Love, Lies & The D.A. (6 page)

“No. I’m
not hungry.”

“You
have to eat something. Here,” he says, placing a bowl in front of me. “I made
you some soup. Now eat.”

“Thanks…
for everything. Coming all this way… and getting me a lawyer.”

“We
lawyers have a network. It was nothing,” he replies, patting me on my shoulder.

“How
long are you here for?”

“I
have opening arguments for a case on Friday afternoon. I’ll stay as long as you
need me till then.”

“I
haven’t called his family. I don’t know where to start or what to say.”

“You
haven’t been in touch with them at all since Thursday?”

“No.”

“No
emails?”

“If
they sent me one, I haven’t opened it yet. I have many emails I haven’t read. I
sent out a blanket email thanking everyone for their support on Friday. I
classified emails coming from Richard and Koto as junk. If they sent me
anything, I wouldn’t have received it either.”

“Get
me your laptop. Let me see if there is anything from them.”

I do
as he asks.

“What
are their names?”

“His
mother is Sally Preston, and his sister is Linda Preston.”

“Wow.
You do have a lot of emails,” he says. “There is nothing from either of them. Call
them to give your condolences. Try to avoid talking about your breakup or
Richard. If they push or ask you why you called off the wedding, be honest but
use less harsh words, if you know what I mean. Don’t give details either.”

I
always had a good relationship with them, but we weren’t best friends. However,
I think it’s something I must do.

I dial
his mother’s number and wait nervously.

“Hello,”
a man answers.

“Hi,
this is Jada calling. May I speak with Sally, please?”

“One
minute, please.”

She
comes to the phone. I can barely make out anything she says.

“Mrs.
Preston. I wanted to tell you how sorry I am.”

The
sound of her tears over the line breaks my heart. “Mrs. Preston, I’ll be
thinking about you. I’ll call you another time. Hand the phone to someone
nearby.”

The
man returns to the phone. “Hello.”

“Hi,
is Linda there?”

“She
is, but she’s dealing with the police.”

“Can
you please tell her that I called? I’m really sorry about this.”

“You
said your name was Jada?”

“Yes.”

I end
the call.

“Did
she say anything?” Bobby asks.

“No.
She was crying. She was too upset. I asked for Linda, but I was told she was
talking to the police.”

“Alright.
Can I get you anything else?” Bobby asks.

“No
thanks. Did you look around?”

“Not
yet.”

“Let
me show you. You can pick your room.”

Hours
later, after
a bath, I head to the kitchen to make some
coffee. Bobby is on his cell phone out on the terrace. I wonder if I need to
return to San Francisco. Emotionally, I know I am not ready, but this situation
has become so much more than me. As much as I hate this, I want to help the
police find out who did this.

Up
until now on the news, there is no confirmation on how he died, or who found
him. Nevertheless, some networks have been reporting that he was shot in the
back of his head.

If
this is true, I wonder who would want to kill Richard, much less kill him that
way. He was executed. I am so confused. Walking in on him and Koto has made me
uncertain about everything. Do I even know who he was? Was everything I
thought
I knew about him a complete lie?

Who
would want the head of one of the largest banks on the West Coast dead? Did he
get involved in something and didn’t tell me about it? Everything I thought I
knew, I question.

I wonder
if he spoke to Koto, if he confided in her. I wonder if he told her all the
things he neglected to tell me. I wonder if she knows who did this. I wonder if
she knows why.

I have
all these questions, and I do want to know why. However, a big part of me wants
nothing to do with this. It looks too ugly. I am afraid it will take me to a
place I didn’t know existed within Richard. I’m afraid that what I find out
might make me question my own judgment, and my sanity.

Then
again, maybe all this is all speculation. Perhaps I’m getting ahead of myself.
Can’t this be some sort of random crime? Maybe he just happened to be in the
wrong place at the wrong time. Maybe it’s mistaken identity. As much as I try
to convince myself that this is a probability, my instincts tell me that my
thoughts are wishful thinking.

Bobby
comes in from the terrace and looks at me. The expression on his face is not
good.

“The
news reports were confirmed. He was murdered. Executed.”

My
throat constricts. “Do they know who did this? Do they know why?”

“No. I
just got off the phone with Charles.”

“The
police do want to talk to you, but any talking will have to be through him.”

“I don’t
want to seem uncooperative. I want this solved as much as they do.”

“Listen
to me, Jada. Until we know what their angle is, you need to stay silent.
Spouses are always the first suspect in this sort of crime. You don’t want to
give them evidence that can be used against you.”

“How
do I help?”

“Talk
through your lawyer. That’s why you hire an attorney.”

Bobby’s
been very
quiet since he got off the phone with Charles. It makes me
wonder if there is something else he’s not telling me. We’ve always been able
to read each other well. I know my instincts are right.

“What
aren’t you telling me?” I ask.

“Nothing,
Sis. I have a lot on my mind,” he replies as his fingers vigorously move over
his laptop. We both sit at the kitchen island.

“I
know you might be trying to protect me, but you have to tell me what it is.”

He
takes a deep breath and places his hand on mine.

“I
think you should be prepared for the media attention that this case is pulling.
Everyone is looking for answers, and when people don’t know, they speculate.
They’re likely to sensationalize this case.”

“Are
the media saying I have something to do with this?”

“They’re
not saying that directly, but they’re definitely insinuating it. The timing of
your breakup and his subsequent death has people asking many questions. For
them, it’s good TV. You’re beautiful, self-made, and rich. He is good looking
and the CEO of one on the largest banks on the West Coast. They don’t care
about your reputation, or your business; all they care about in this are their
ratings.”

“Should
I worry?”

“I don’t
want you to worry, but you should be prepared. Jada, in cases like this,
prosecutors and the police often feel pressure from the public and the media to
make an arrest. In some cases, they get it right. In many, they’re wrong. I
know you’re innocent in this. But don’t be surprised if the police have you
under investigation.”

“I’m
afraid… I’m afraid that the man I thought I knew and the man that I fell in
love with was completely nonexistent.”

“I
hate to admit it, but I think with all the signs so far, when this is solved,
you will find out things about him that you didn’t know. This wasn’t a random
act. This was intentional, and by the look of it, he pissed someone off.”

“I
wonder if Koto knows anything.”

“Who
knows? If you need to talk to anybody about anything in this case, you talk to either
Charles or me. I will get you a secure line. If you’re not talking, they may
tap your phone lines.”

“I don’t
want to talk about this anymore… Are you going to show me pictures of your red
hot chili pepper?”

He
laughs. I rest my head on his shoulder, and I get my first introduction to
Valencia Suarez.

*     *     *

It’s
been a rough and long day at the office. I can’t wait to get out of these
clothes. After a refreshing shower, I check the warming drawer to see what
Floria fixed for dinner, and I put my feet up on the coffee table to see what’s
on TV.

As I
flip through the channels, her face fills my TV screen. Jada McLean. On three
separate channels. I immediately turn up the volume to hear the news report.

“Her
ex was murdered? Fuck!”  

I flip
through the various channels. They’re suggesting that she did this. If I have
to rely on my lawyer instincts, she could never do such a thing. I know I’ve
known her for maybe five seconds, but I can’t see her doing this.

Dad’s
face now occupies the screen, and at the same time, my phone rings. It’s him.
Talk about synchronicity.

“Dad…
I’m looking at you on my TV. You’re representing Jada?”

“Yes.
Her brother is a lawyer. I got a call from him early this morning.”

“I
know you can’t talk about this, but is she okay?”

“What
do you think? The woman’s been through the worst weekend of her life. She’s
scared, confused, and she’s hurting.”

“God.”

“She
told me she met you this weekend?”

“She
did?”

“Didn’t
you?”

“I
did. We had dinner together at David’s house. I’m just surprised she mentioned
me.”

“Well,
I asked her what she did this weekend. You know what we do.”

“Do
you think she’ll be okay?”

“I
hope so. She was very distraught when I spoke to her. Her brother is with her
now. I think she’ll be fine. You like her, don’t you?”

I can’t
believe that my father asked me that. I hesitate.

“You
don’t have to answer. You’re my son… I know you—not that you’re not being
completely obvious. Just so you know, she likes you too. She just doesn’t know
it yet.”

“Why?
What did she say?”

He
laughs. “Lawyer-client confidentiality.”

“I
should have known you’d respond that way. Dad, you believe in her?”

It’s
my way of asking how he feels about her guilt or innocence.

“I do.
I like her a lot. She’s real… honest. I’m looking forward to meeting her in
person.”

“She’s
feisty… and extremely beautiful.”

“She
is. I’ve seen her around. I think your mom and I stayed at one of her
properties one time when we went to Seattle.”

“Well,
I’m glad that you’re involved at this stage. Hopefully, she won’t require your
services much longer.”

“I
hope you’re right, Son, because for the first time, it’s possible that you and
I will end up face to face on opposite sides of the courtroom.”

The
thought alone makes me nervous. More and more as I think about it, I hope that
this is some horrible mistake and hope the media has all their facts wrong.

We
talk about the reason he was calling in the first place. After I end the call,
I have to admit that I can’t get Jada McLean, and the troubles that face her,
out of my mind. I feel even guiltier now about that last conversation we had.
That night, I barely sleep.

*     *     *

The
next morning, I have a long conversation with Ian. Reporters have been calling,
the police have been calling, and more and more it looks like Richard’s murder
is slowly becoming a public relations nightmare for my business and me.

I feel
guilty as I try to figure out the best way to handle this. My ex-fiancé is dead,
and here I am trying to make sure my business isn’t affected. However, my
business is my baby, my livelihood, so I press on and confer with my PR
department. Charles also assigns someone to handle questions from the press. So
for now, that has been handled.

After
Bobby gets some work out of the way, we spend the afternoon on a boat tour of
the lake. It’s a welcome change. The last few days have been extraordinarily
overwhelming, yet I am so thankful. If Bobby hadn’t come, I don’t know that I’d
be able to handle any of this.

I
think about heading back to San Francisco. A trip that I intended to be
relaxing and a prelude to my fresh start has become very stressful. I don’t
know if it makes a difference whether I am in San Francisco or Lake Tahoe. That
said, the media would definitely be more in my face if I were there.

I find
it hard to relax for very long. I may be present for maybe five minutes then my
mind drifts back to everything that has happened since last Thursday.

My
phone rings, interrupting my thoughts. It’s Charles.

“Hi.”