Sedona Law 4

by Dave Daren

  “That’s good thinking,” I said. “

  “I thought so,” she said. “So, then she said she and her husband were selling this plot, and she gave me the address and said I could swing by there and let her know if I was interested.”

  “And you looked at it?” I asked.

  “I just drove by,” she said. “Thought we could go over there together, and then we’ll see from there.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “I don’t see any harm in that.”

  “It’s too dark now,” she said. “We’d have to find another time.”

  “Yeah,” I smiled. “It sounds like a plan. So, I assume you’ve already hired an architect, too, right?”

  “Come on,” she laughed. “It was just an idea. But, we have one other really important matter to discuss.”

  “Yeah?” I asked.

  She shifted in her seat uncomfortably and rubbed her palms together, and I felt the elephant entering the room. She sighed and looked at me in the eye, “I really need to know if Lady Sybil will actually marry the chauffeur.”

  I laughed hysterically, as she was referring to a plot in Downton Abbey.

  “I thought you already saw the whole series,” I said.

  “I watched part of it,” she said, “because it was such a fad with everyone we worked with.”

  “I know, right?” I rolled my eyes. “I couldn’t get into it, though.”

  “Me, neither!” she laughed. “But, when we watch it, it’s--”

  “Different,” I said.

  “Yeah,” she said. “Everything’s different with you.”

  “Well,” I faked a British accent, “We shouldn’t keep them waiting, m’lady.”

  “No,” she said. “That doesn’t work on you.”

  “It really doesn’t,” I agreed.

  “Not at all,” she said.

  We changed into comfortable clothes and laid in bed and spent the rest of the night watching the sudsy stories of British aristocrats and their servants. And, by the end of the night, we discovered that yes, Lady Sybil did marry the chauffeur, and she did it on the sly. I could feel the soap clogging up my pores--even if it was fancy Edwardian soap.

  The next morning, Vicki and I arrived at the office, and Landon was ready and waiting to greet me.

  “Dude,” he said. “Dude, I think I’ve found a major clue. This is... this... is major.”

  I raised an eyebrow and made a cup of coffee. I was going to need to be caffeinated for whatever Landon saw as “major.”

  “Whatcha got, Landon?” I asked as I loaded a pod into the machine.

  “You’re going to need to see this footage,” he said. “It’s big. It’s huge.”

  He clasped his hands over his head and paced the kitchenette area.

  “We’re going to break the whole thing wide open,” he said. “Wide open. Malone, the Illuminati. We’ve got proof.”

  “Proof?” I asked as I grabbed my mug off the coffee maker. “Of the Illuminati?”

  “That they were involved,” he said.

  “Okay,” I said. “I’ll bite. Show me.”

  I followed him back to the conference room, where he had his gear set up in a somewhat permanent fixture. The monitor was paused to Chloe’s contorted face.

  “Okay,” he said. “I took this footage at the vortex. I thought it would be b-roll stock stuff, you know.”

  “Right,” I said as I settled into a chair and sipped my coffee.

  “But I found this,” he stated.

  He cued up a scene with Julianna, Chloe, and Olivia, climbing up Cathedral Rock. There was a lot of muffling, and the picture jumped a lot as Landon climbed it from behind the camera himself.

  “Say hi to the camera,” he said.

  The girls shot a preoccupied smile, and then, there were a lot of muffled pictures, and the next thing I could tell, everyone was sitting beneath a tree.

  For a few minutes, they discussed the hike, and the vortex, and cleansing Beyo.

  I sighed. “Okay, what is it I need to see?”

  “Just watch, just watch,” he said. “Watch their hands.”

  I couldn’t see much in the way of their hands, they gestured around in normal speaking, and as much as anyone does when settling in for a rest after a long hike. Then, the conversation turned to Beyo.

  “He was a good man,” Julianna said. “He had his moments.”

  The other girls laughed in agreement.

  “But,” Julianna said. “He will be sorely missed.”

  “I feel like the justice system doesn’t know what it’s doing,” Chloe said. “I mean, no offense to you, Landon, or Vicki or anything. I know you’re doing everything you can. But, I don’t think there are any major leads, are there?”

  Vicki’s muffled answer came from off camera, and the girls shrugged.

  “But,” Olivia said. “She’s right. It’s been weeks, and if I’m not wrong, we’re not any closer than we were in the beginning.”

  “There’s a lot we don’t know about what they’re doing,” Julianna said. Her tone was qualified, and it was clear she knew more about our investigation than the other girls.

  “I feel like we should solve the murder ourselves,” Chloe said. “I’m sorry, Vicki. It’s just my grief. I shouldn’t say that. I’m sorry.”

  “Right... there,” Landon punctuated his remark with a click on the trackpad, and he paused the clip.

  “What are we looking at?” I asked.

  “See, Olivia’s hands?” he touched the monitor and pointed to her fingers.

  “Yeah?” I said.

  “See how she’s doing that thing?” he said. “They’re talking about the case, and she shot Julianna the 666 sign.”

  I looked closer at the still frame of Olivia playing with her hair. I guess I could make out the three finger gesture commonly known as the “perfect,” signal. Well, sort of.

  “Hmmm,” I said.

  “Now,” Landon said. “Let’s look at another clip.”

  He showed me another clip of the girls after meditation. They were getting off the ground, and Julianna again was sharing a memory of Beyo.

  “See this?” he asked.

  He paused it again. “So, the subject is Beyo again, and look at Olivia’s hands.”

  Olivia looked at Julianna speaking, and she rubbed one eye in the Arizona sun.

  “See?” he said. “That’s the Satanic one eye of horus. There was no reason for her to only rub one eye. She’s signaling.”

  I cleared my throat and sipped my coffee.

  “Okay,” Landon said. “One more.”

  He showed me one other thing, but something else caught my eye on the monitor. I leaned forward.

  “Hold on a sec, play that part again,” I said as I stared into the screen.

  “Yeah,” he said.

  He clicked and dragged on the video progress bar. “Tell me when.”

  “Right... there,” I said.

  He played the clip again, and I had an epiphany.

  “That’s it,” I muttered to myself. “That’s the answer.”

  “Ahhhh,” Landon exclaimed and jumped out of his chair so fast he knocked it over. He clapped his hands over his head and exclaimed more.

  “I knew it,” he said. “I knew it. We’re going to break this wide open!”

  AJ and Vicki ran into the room to see about the commotion.

  “What’s going on?” Vicki asked.

  “Everything alright?” AJ looked concerned.

  “We need to depose Olivia,” I said. “Now.”

  I had the whole murder figured out, but it had nothing to do with hand signals.

  Chapter 18

  It took close to a week to arrange a formal deposition with Olivia. The variety of logistics necessary for this procedure are often difficult to get on short notice. But, we’ve done enough in our days here to be able to call them in with a fair amount of ease.

  Depositions typically involve the client, the prosecutor, a witness, and at
torneys for both the client and the witness. Olivia had an attorney drive in from Flagstaff, and that didn’t surprise me. I would guess his fees would be collected through John Malone’s office, courtesy of the Arizona taxpayers in a roundabout way.

  Olivia’s attorney was a squirrelly man named Neville, and was the first to arrive. He was over an hour early. He spent most of the morning hanging out in our conference room, making a mess of our coffee station, and then asking for lots of random amenities like napkins, the bathroom, an extension cord for his laptop, and the use of a printer.

  Landon was helping him connect his laptop to our printer, when the other parties arrived. Chet the prosecutor, and Oliva, along with police chief Hal Durant. Julianna decided she didn’t want to come. She said it was too emotional, and since Landon would be taping it anyway, it wasn’t necessary.

  Landon had been kicked out of the conference room for the deposition, and now had his video equipment shoved into a corner, and the clutter was making me a little crazy.

  His laptop was now perched on the side of AJ’s desk, and this had caused a handful of scuffles throughout the morning. Both parties were now comfortable enough with each other to demand, “Get your stuff out of my way” periodically. Young love.

  Everyone had arrived for the deposition, and they all filed into the conference room and took their respective seats. Vicki and I sat on one side, with Chet next to me, and then Hal, and then Neville and Olivia.

  Olivia looked frail as always with long legs, and blonde hair that was pulled into a tight ponytail. She had large blue eyes and very pale skin. She moved with poise and ease and only spoke when spoken to. She recoiled when she saw Landon and the camera.

  Landon nodded politely. He had the video on a tripod. Normally, a non legal figure would not be allowed in a deposition, but since he was taping it, in lieu of a court reporter, he was fine.

  “Try not to make that thing look so intimidating,” I told him as I squeezed into the crowded room.

  “Yeah,” he whispered and shrugged.

  He awkwardly smiled as he navigated his way around the small room. It occured to me that Landon was a little out of his comfort zone. He was comfortable with our little team, but all the people in this room here were well above his… pay grade. He leaned against the wall and shoved his hands deep into his jean pockets and appeared to be thinking the exact same thing.

  I stood and took control of the room.

  “What we want to do now,” I said, “is find out everything we can about the night of Beyo’s murder. This isn’t a trial, we just need to know, Olivia, what you know.”

  “I already told you everything that day you came to the house,” she said. “He recorded it, so I don’t know why we need to have this meeting. Am I a... a... suspect?”

  I avoided the question and instead turned the meeting over to Chet, the prosecutor.

  “Beowulf Vandergarten was your lover,” Chet began, “along with Chloe, and Juliana Spencer, and you all lived in a house in Brooklyn, New York, is that correct?”

  “Yes,” she said.

  “And all of you danced together in a touring production,” he continued. “And then you performed together at the Performance Arts Hall in Sedona, correct?”

  “Correct,” she said.

  “Then,” Chet said, “on that same night, Beowulf was found dead backstage, stabbed in the abdomen with a dagger known to belong to Julianna Spencer. Is this correct to your knowledge?”

  “That’s right,” she said.

  “Tell us what you know about the murder,” he said.

  She turned to Neville, who nodded consent and then took a deep breath.

  “On the night of the... incident…” she paused. “This is difficult for me, would it be okay, if I don’t say--”

  “That’s fine,” Chet said.

  “On that night,” her voice was soft, “I was in the green room on my phone, and I heard Chloe scream. Mr. Iakova was there, along with Mr. Irving, and Ms. Park, and a few others. Although, I didn’t know most of them, then. All of us went to go find out what had happened, and Chloe was so scared she couldn’t talk. Then, we went inside the dressing room to find Beyo on the floor. He was gone.”

  “That was how you found out about the incident,” Chet said. “Is there anything that you can tell us about before the incident?”

  “There were a lot of things,” she said. “There was Judith Klein there, and she threw paint on us. But, I have already told these things both to Mr. Irving and the police, and Mr. Irving’s office has it on tape. Please, let me grieve in peace.”

  She began to cry, and if I didn’t have so much evidence against her, I would reevaluate the entire meeting. As it was, Chet looked to sympathize with her, and turned to me.

  “Your witness,” he said.

  I drew a long deep breath and then let it out slowly. I rose and paced the length of the room as I gathered my words.

  “Olivia,” I asked, “Do you know Arizona State Senator John Malone?”

  She looked at me and then at Neville.

  “Where is this line of questioning going?” Neville’s nasal voice and manner overall made me shudder.

  “It’s a simple question,” I asked. “I just want to know if she has any kind of relationship with the senator.”

  His objection was valid however. Since Malone was more than likely footing Neville’s bill, he couldn’t let her deny her knowledge. But, admitting to that, would officially involve the senator in the case.

  “I used to babysit his kids,” Olivia said.

  “Really?” I asked. “The nanny, huh?”

  I didn’t expect that answer. Did Neville come up with it?

  “Yes,” she said. “I’m originally from Tucson, and he and his wife needed a babysitter, so they found me through a friend of a friend.”

  “Who is this friend of a friend?” I asked.

  “I don’t recall,” she said. “His wife had just heard of me.”

  “And how long did you work for the Malone family?” I asked.

  “Three years,” she said.

  “And why did you stop?” I asked.

  “Because I didn’t want to be a nanny anymore,” she said. “I wanted an adult life, an adult job. So, I got a job at Starbucks for a little while, and then it wasn’t long after that I found Ghoti.”

  “Do you know Judith Klein?” I asked.

  She looked uncomfortable. “I met her, yes.”

  “Before the performance, had you ever met Judith Klein?” I asked.

  “I knew her in Tucson,” she said.

  “How?” I asked.

  “She was friends with the Malones,” she said. “She came to the house a couple of times.”

  “So,” I continued, “when you said that Judith Klein snuck in through your dressing-room window, you weren’t as surprised as you made it out to be. You knew exactly who she was.”

  “Well,” she said, “I didn’t expect her to come crashing through the window, and I hadn’t seen her in years. It wasn’t until days later that I even remembered who she was. Even then, she was just an acquaintance of an old employer. It didn’t make a difference.”

  “Right,” I said. “And what dressing room were you assigned to that night?”

  “Uh, room C?” she said.

  I pulled out the floor plans for the PAH.

  “There is no window in dressing room C,” I said.

  “Right,” she said, “because I was in Beyo’s dressing room when it happened.”

  “Okay,” I said, “so you were not in your dressing room, you were in Beyo’s dressing room?”

  “Correct,” she said.

  “What were you doing in there?” I asked.

  She smiled uncomfortably. “We were... lovers, as you say. Shouldn’t that be enough?”

  I raised an eyebrow. “So, presumably Beyo was in the dressing room with you when Ms. Klein came in through the window.”

  “No,” she said. “He had left the room.”
/>   “Why?” I asked.

  “I don’t remember,” she said. “He stepped out for a smoke, I think.”

  I furrowed my brow. Her story was checking out too well. Either we had really screwed this up, or she was good at covering her tracks.

  “So, the senator was your boss?” I asked.

  “Yes,” she insisted.

  “Did you leave on good terms?” I asked.

  “How do you mean?” she replied.

  “Did you get fired?” I asked.

  “No,” she said.

  “Was he displeased at all at your work performance?” I asked.

  “No,” she said.

  “A senator as an employment reference,” I mused. “That’s a big deal. Did he offer that to you, to be a reference?”

  “Yes,” she said. “He wrote a letter of recommendation and said I could give any potential employer his number.”

  “Then why didn’t he tell me this when I asked him about you?” I asked.

  “This line of questioning is inconclusive,” Neville said. “How could she suppose what the senator is thinking?”

  “She’s not on trial here,” I asked. “I’m just asking if she knew anything that could make us better understand the senator’s motives for disassociating himself with her. Why would being connected to a former... nanny... you said…?”

  “Yes,” she said, “nanny.”

  “Why would being connected to a former... nanny... be disadvantageous to a senator’s reputation?” I asked.

  “I... don’t know,” she said.

  “This is outrageous,” Neville said. “I don’t care for what you’re implying.”

  “I don’t care for what I’m implying, either,” I said. “But, from the evidence I have, it is, to borrow from our friend Al Gore, an inconvenient truth.”

  “What are you trying to say?” Olivia asked.

  “You want me to spell it out, or do you want to tell us what happened?” I asked Olivia.

  “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” she said.

  “You don’t have to answer this,” Neville said. “I won’t stand for it, and neither will the senator. Ms. Parker, let’s go. You’ll be hearing from the senator about this.”

  “Will I?” I asked as Neville slammed his notebook shut. “Because from what I can tell, the senator would rather not say anything at all about it. And why, might I ask, are you so defensive of the senator?”