by B K Johnson
Tommy rose from her chair, walked over to Geoff, and slapped him across the face. Startled, he looked up at her, like a child who’s just been disciplined for saying a bad word. “Stand up,” she commanded him. “You have not been convicted yet and I’m out there busting my butt to find out who really did kill Samantha. The least you can do is show me a little respect and have a little faith that I’ll do my job.” While Geoff shook his head, and struggled to stand up, Tommy turned on Clay.
“And what kind of lawyer are you to let your client become so forlorn as if the guilty verdict has already been read? I don’t care if you specialize in family law. You had to take criminal law and pass the bar in it. Your initial obligation is not just to defend him and keep him out of jail, but also to reassure him that somebody really does care and won’t let him be convicted for a murder someone else committed. This is no joke, Clay, and the very least you can do is prop the man up in the interim between indictment and the trial. His criminal lawyers can conduct that trial, but as his friend and divorce attorney, who better to reassure him of his eventual release from criminal suspicion? You think because you’re wealthy and a lawyer that you’d be exempt from being in the same position as he is now?”
“Think again. I’ve been there and learned that every single one of us can experience some horrible circumstance that can reduce us to the same level as the bum in the street the cops kick as they pass by. Your law degree will be useless when you find out that every cop you’ve cross-examined hates your guts and would gladly drag you through the street to the nearest jail, if you give them even the glint of a chance to take revenge on you.”
She went back to Geoff and smoothed her hand over the face she’d smacked. Putting her arms around him, she pulled him to herself and cradled his head in her shoulder, stroking his back. Geoff fell apart and sobbed all over her cashmere coat, but Tommy didn’t care. She knew instinctively that he needed this release. His wife was dead, he stood accused of her murder, someone had done a damn good job of making sure all the evidence pointed to him, and he had a lawyer who was only interested in making a few more bucks.
Clay went to the window, studiously avoiding the physical contact between Geoff and Tommy, as well as the sobs that racked Geoff’s whole body. He looked out at the beautiful bay and the Bay Bridge spanning its way to Oakland, and thought how he’d much prefer to be on his yacht right now instead of having to stomach some loser of a lawyer like Tommy O’Malley casting aspersions against his character. He wasn’t in the business of being a nanny, for God’s sake.
“I really didn’t kill her, Tommy, I swear,” Geoff choked out. “I can’t believe how much I miss her, in spite of everything. I loved her. I would have forgiven her if she’d just said she was sorry. She didn’t say all those mean and vile things against me. It was Michaela’s brat. I think she was just confused and said what she thought everyone else wanted to hear. The divorce was just my ploy to get her back, know what I mean? I know what she truly wanted was a child with me, and for some idiotic reason, I couldn’t give her one.”
“Well,” counseled Tommy. “You took revenge a bit too far, but someone else took it farther. Now we have to make lemonade out of a lemon.” She grabbed the handkerchief matching his tie from his suit pocket and handed it to him. “Sit down now, and wipe your face. I need your help. You, too, Clay. Stop staring out the window wishing you were miles away from here in your yacht, and put on your thinking cap.”
Torn from his reverie by Tommy’s spot-on divining of his thoughts, Clay turned from the window and trudged back to his desk chair. “What now,” he thought. I suppose this bitch thinks she’s solved the murder.” When they were all seated again and Geoff had gulped in enough huge breaths to steady himself, Tommy laid it on the table.
“So, is it Daniella or Michaela? Which of them hated you enough, Geoff, and felt so badly burned by Samantha that she’d shoot her and frame you?”
Geoff’s eyes lit up for the first time that day, and he turned a glittering gaze to Tommy. “I’ll be damned. I never even gave Michaela a moment’s thought, but you’re right. It’s her. She’s secretly hated my guts since I married Samantha. I’d bet my life on it.”
“You may have to,” agreed Tommy.
“I’ll give you what I’ve got on her, Clay, along with my opinion that Michaela killed Samantha for screwing her kid, but it’s up to you to tie the bow on the gift basket. You’ll have to pull in all your markers to help prove it. But it’s time to really get to work on this aspect of the case, instead of just assembling a dream team to defend Geoff. The best defense is a good offense, right?”
Clay nodded his head in acceptance of Tommy’s pronouncement, and thought, “She’s damn good, in spite of being a loser. Too bad she won’t be practicing law anymore. Then again, I’d hate to try a case against her.”
With that concern set aside, he picked up his phone and called his bosom buddy, Todd Hutchins, with whom he went to law school at Hastings. After all, Todd was now the Sheriff of San Francisco County, and he owed Clay more than a few favors.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
“Why can’t you come?” Rod questioned Tommy. He was calling her from his family home in Black Point on Oahu. The view was absolutely gorgeous. Another sunny, balmy day in the tropical paradise of Hawaii. Rod lounged on the patio of his vacation home, and looked out at the Pacific Ocean’s gentle waves lapping the glistening white sand beaches. Diamond Head jutted proudly over the horizon, keeping diligent watch for the safety of its island. No surfers were out on the bay here. The waves were too few and not big enough to challenge the young surfers who came by the droves to Hawaii’s shores. Rod had already checked out the three stores he maintained on Oahu, and was pleased at the success of each. The North shore enjoyed the most constant stream of customers, and therefore generated the greatest proceeds.
“I’m in the middle of the Gage investigation here, Rod, and can’t take off just now. I really think we’re beginning to uncover the evidence that will acquit Geoff before trial. If we can just convince the DA to drop the charges against Geoff and pursue the leads we’ve developed, I could probably get away for a short vacation. Surfing, swimming and sailing with you around the islands sounds like a perfectly wonderful getaway, as long as I lather up in sunscreen.”
“I can think of a lot of other things I’d rather lather you up with, love,” cajoled Rod. And I promise I can make the best virgin drinks you’ve ever tasted. Piña colada, chi chi, mai tai and daiquiri. Don’t those sound wonderful? We have orchids that bloom year round on the border of our property, and plumeria and lilikoi blossoms litter our driveway. I can pluck the best ones right off their branches and decorate your virgin drinks so you’ll never suspect you’re not dallying in one of the most magnificent hotel bars in Hawaii. And we’ll do whatever you want as long as you can stay. Please say you’ll come, just as soon as you can break away.”
Tommy grinned, enjoying the vision of the hard-bodied Rod tending to her every need. Then she got serious and asked Rod to do her a favor and check out where Dave was. She said, “Dave’s called and left strange messages for the last few days, including one saying he was being followed, and then nothing. Not a word from him at all, which is very unlike him. I’ve returned his messages when I knew he’d be awake and haven’t gotten any response. The University of Hawaii administrator who oversaw the extension classes told me that Dave was a no show at the last minute for the final class of the semester.”
Unfortunately, that administrator had been more concerned about having to pay for a replacement than in positing any legitimate reason for Dave’s absence. Tommy, knowing Dave as well as she did, knew that he would not miss a class for anything other than an emergency. What that emergency was plaguing her.
After securing Rod’s solemn promise to dedicate the following day to locating Dave, and giving him Dave’s parents phone numbers and his cell and home numbers, as well as his home address, Tommy thanked Rod.
“I give y
ou my word I will wrap this case up just as quickly as I can and fly over there, Rod,” she assured him. When she hung up the phone, she knew she had more reasons than ever to plan a trip to Hawaii. Not only could she take in some leisure time with Rod in her favorite vacation location, but she could put to rest the nagging fear that something untoward had happened to Dave.
It was a paradox, considering that he had been on top of the world with a new relationship he envisioned going the distance. She shook her head, and lamented her failure to contact Dave sooner. Maybe then she’d have a better idea what was going on with him. She wished she’d spoken with him earlier, and guilt weighed heavily on her heart. At the very least she should have gotten his girlfriend’s name and number. All she remembered was the name Loke.
Tommy reluctantly turned her attention to her notes on the Gage investigation. Yellow legal pads filled with words were strewn all over her office desk and conference table. Although she’d discontinued practicing law, all of her old habits died hard. She still took copious notes on the legal notebook paper, and then arranged them according to importance and issue or person. Only after she’d given them some sense of order did she transcribe the most important notes into Word, saving them by category into files created especially for this research. Her process was not unlike those she’d used in law school prior to exams. Tommy was a diligent student, who took her learning seriously, not one of those with a laissez faire attitude that they could wing it.
Part of that seriousness was due to the fact that Tommy’d had to work during the day and go to school at night. It was the only way she could afford to continue her education. As such, she valued every dollar spent in obtaining her law degree. It still pained her occasionally that her license to practice law in both the State and Federal courts were nothing more than pieces of paper in frames these days. They were testaments to her proficiency that she refused to put on display for her present day customers. Only in the old days was it important that prospective clients have the opportunity to view her credentials prior to hiring her. People employing her now could care less about degrees, just whether or not she could deliver the goods.
As she reviewed her notes, she separated out those pertaining solely to Michaela from those pertaining to Daniella. Where they overlapped, she tried to create a third category, but noticed a paucity of information. Did these two women really have two such separate lives? Was this the first time Daniella went home to live with Momma, seeking comfort over the loss of her lover? And how could Tommy best figure out their relationship?
The one key seemed to be Maria Luisa, housekeeper now to Michaela, but former guardian to Daniella. She opened up a new category titled “Maria Luisa,” inputting all of the information she had gathered to date about the shy Mexicana. Maria Luisa maintained a small home in Daly City, where her six children resided with their mamacita. The oldest boy, Miguel, was 26, and pretty much looked after his younger siblings, the youngest of which was Teresita at age 17. Don Manuel was 24, and he helped out a lot with mentoring the children in Maria Luisa’s absences due to work.
Only on Sundays and two weeks out of the year was Maria Luisa to be found at her real home. It hadn’t always been that way, just since Daniella’s father passed away and Maria Luisa’s services were required full-time. She’d worked for the family for 15 years, and had made enough money to put all of her children through school, three of them through San Francisco State. Education was most important to her, and she was determined to see that her children would never have to suffer the indignity of being a domestic. Whatever that took, she was willing to sacrifice. Having left her philandering husband in Mexico, taking her children with her so many years ago to the promised land of California, Maria Luisa knew firsthand about hard work and sacrifice.
Tommy realized that today was Sunday, and that if she hurried, she could get to Daly City at a reasonable time and find Maria Luisa at home. Feeling a little guilty about disturbing the serenity of the domestic’s few hours of family life, Tommy nevertheless threw on her pea coat and hat and raced out the door. She had to run three blocks to get to the Jetta, having had to hunt for half an hour just to find a parking place even that close to her office/loft/gym.
“Thank goodness I can at least get some healthy exercise in,” she panted as she drew up alongside the car. It had been two days since her last sparring date, and she’d only hit the body bags for an hour yesterday. “That’s too little physical activity for me to maintain my body and mind,” she groaned. She made herself a promise to box tomorrow, whatever the day held, and called back on the car phone to Duke to ask him to make the arrangements. Pleased with her continuing commitment to her own well-being, she set off for the hills of the ticky tacky community south of San Francisco, better known as Daly City.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
When Loke opened the door to her home, she heard faint sounds coming from the garage. They weren’t emanating from any human but were strange and tinny. She was surprised she heard anything at all, since she’d been assured that the soundproofing of the garage was the best that could be had. She herself had tested it a few weeks ago, leaving a CD of the opera Madame Butterfly playing at the highest volume on a stereo system she’d put in the garage. She’d gone outside and leaned her head against the wall. Not one high-pitched wail escaped through the door.
Investigating, she went to the kitchen door, which opened into the garage. She held her ear to the door and could then hear a definite metallic noise, however muted. It seemed the soundproofing worked better for the outside world than the inside, but she couldn’t’ worry herself about that now. She flung the door open and strode purposefully into the garage.
Loke almost had to laugh. Dave was tangled up in the chains from an apparent attempt to extricate himself, and had succeeded only in managing feeble sounds as the chain clanked desperately against the floor. No loud vocals accompanied Dave’s efforts, as the last thing Loke had done before she left the house was to slap duct tape over his mouth. Very distorted keening seeped through the tape, but that was all.
She went to Dave and leaned down to his ears, saying, “I really wish you’d stop thrashing around. You’ll only end up hurting yourself needlessly.”
Then she ripped the duct tape from his mouth and asked, “Are you thirsty?” He could only nod, saving his voice for a futile cry for help when she retired to the kitchen for a glass of water. She returned to him and held the glass near to his lips, positioning a straw in the glass between them.
“Drink, dear, and save your effort,” she advised. “You will need your strength. And don’t think anyone will come to your assistance because they hear you yelling. I have soundproofed this garage and could hardly hear you myself while in the kitchen with my ear pressed to the door.”
“Why,” gasped Dave, “are you doing this to me?” Each word was a laborious effort and the consternation he felt was written all over his face, from his raised eyebrows scrunched together in a deep frown in the middle of his forehead, to the doleful downward turn of his quivering lips. Tears leaked from his eyes, as he looked upon the woman he had thought would be his soul mate. Now he saw that she was evil. Her face had changed from reflecting a simple, demure beauty to a harsh, wild-eyed harridan.
The smile she gave him was crooked and forced, and she replied, “Oh, sweetheart, it really has little to do with you. I’m just interested in drawing the inimitable Tommy O’Malley to my humble abode. How better to do it than to have her dear friend Dave call for her help?”
“I’ll never do it,” Dave managed to yell. “I won’t be any part of whatever you have planned for Tommy.”
“Oh, yes you will, my darling. You see, you won’t have a choice,” she laughed. Loke moved down to Dave’s legs and removed the sopping wet diaper. Had Dave been able to hang his head, he would have done so, with shame and humiliation threading their way through every fiber of his being. He had never before been subjugated to any other person’s will. No one had tormented him d
uring his youth. His height, strength and agility was obvious from early on, and all of his classmates had respected him. Having had no siblings, he was spoiled, not shamed by his parents.
Loke left Dave for just a few moments, during which he allowed himself to weep openly and loudly. Sobs racked his body. He didn’t know whether he wept more for himself, for the loss of the future he had planned with Loke, or because he was afraid of what Loke might try to do to Tommy. All he knew was that he would never be able to forget this betrayal as long as he lived. Which might not be much longer, he worried.
When she returned, his former beloved had a gun in her right hand. She came up to his face, bending down to brandish it in front of his nose. His eyes crossed as he tried to follow the move-ment of the weapon, and he shuddered in terror as it swept over his torso.
“I’m just letting you know who’s in control now, Mr. Big Shot Law Professor. Bet you never thought a little Polynesian woman would be your downfall, did you? I have to admit I was a little amazed to find out you were really such a nice guy, and an exceptional lover. But you still carry that air of lord above all. And I fucking hate that!” Loke shouted.
She rose and pointed the weapon around the room. “See that over there? she questioned Dave. “Everything on that chair and under it, from the picture, to your clothes, to the flowers, and to Pele’s lava rocks, has been given a magical power by a mighty kahuna. You were brought to me by that power, and you are now subjugated to it. It wasn’t invested with the power to make you ill, which usually occurs when someone takes Pele’s rocks from her volcano. Oh no, I didn’t want you sick. I wanted you lovesick.”
