by Jan Moran
In the kitchen, black-and-white hexagonal tiles created a charming, 1930s vintage ambiance. Herbs of basil, oregano, and rosemary grew in terra cotta pots in the bay window. Fireplaces in the living room and bedroom were decorated with period hand-painted tiles from California pottery artists.
Scarlett sat down at Johnny’s desk and corralled her nerves. This was the critical moment of her first phone call. She dialed Olga Kaminsky’s direct line at High Gloss Cosmetics.
“Hello, Olga? It’s Scarlett Sandoval. I’ve started my own practice now, and I have a great idea for you. Do you have a few minutes to talk?”
An hour later, Scarlett hung up the phone and did a little happy dance, pumping her fist in the air. At this moment she knew her life was headed in the right direction again. It felt good to be back in the game without abusive partners breathing down her neck. Once she finished her private celebration, she made a call to her first client.
“Hi, Penelope. I just got off the phone with Olga. She’s definitely interested in you for their new line and wants to meet later this week. Since Fleur failed to honor the agreement, she was very excited to hear of your interest.”
She and Penelope chatted about strategy, and then they agreed on a time to meet. She clicked the phone off and leaned back in the chair, her hands laced behind her head. She was back in business, and on her own terms.
Next, Scarlett made a few phones calls related to the lawsuit. Then she set appointments with Fianna and Elena, and checked in with Zelda.
She caught a glimpse of the time. It was still early afternoon, yet she’d accomplished so much. And she had just enough time to make it to the Van Nuys airport.
After making record time to the private airport, Scarlett stood in the terminal watching corporate jets taxi, take off, and land.
It had only been a few weeks since she’d been part of this world of corporate jet travel. She’d thought she would miss it, but now she saw the real opportunity in her life lay in her own entrepreneurial efforts, not in vying for an elusive partnership in a male-dominated firm with partners who didn’t really want her to be part of their club.
All she’d ever been to them was a hired hand. As soon as she’d outlived her usefulness, she’d been kicked to the curb, like so many other women before her had been. It was ludicrous, especially now that half of law school graduates were women.
She’d clearly chosen the wrong firm. Women were certainly advancing at competing firms.
Scarlett pulled her shoulders back. Not anymore. Now she was in charge of her destiny. She turned around. A dark-haired woman in a flight attendant’s uniform walked toward her.
“Hi Lavender, thanks for agreeing to talk to me.”
“I’ve been thinking about you, Scarlett.” Lavender greeted her with a firm handshake. “Since I hadn’t seen you aboard the aircraft, I was worried something might have happened to you. I’m glad you’re okay.”
They found a couple of seats near a window and sat down. Scarlett explained what she needed, and Lavender listened.
“I think you’ll be surprised.” With a mysterious smile on her lips, Lavender quirked an eyebrow and nodded.
The next afternoon, Scarlett met Finnegan Smith, the investigator from the SEC, at Zelda’s office. Scarlett placed her large purse on the floor close to her chair. She couldn’t wait to share what she had with her.
Zelda adjusted her crimson red reading glasses. “Tell us why you’re here, Mr. Smith. Why do you wish to speak to my client?”
“Call me Finn,” the angular, thirty-ish man in a navy blazer said. He flipped open a notebook. “At the Securities and Exchange Commission, we take insider trading very seriously. It’s not limited to those inside publicly traded companies, but also includes those who have access to private information that impacts the fairness of public stock markets. Consultants, lawyers, and bankers are often privy to such details. Trading on this information is illegal.”
Scarlett listened. This was the government office that had put Martha Stewart and others behind bars.
Finn began by asking questions about Lucan and other partners at Marsh & Gold. Scarlett told him what she knew and what she suspected.
“When did you become suspicious?” he asked.
“The day I took Fleur to a meeting with Olga Kaminsky at High Gloss Cosmetics,” Scarlett said.
Finn scratched a note on his pad. “And why was that?”
“It was a little thing, really. When I picked Fleur up at the Chateau Marmont, she had a nasty swollen cut on her lip. She said she’d slipped in the shower. I didn’t think any more about it until I saw a clip of her on CNBC a couple of days later. She had no visible signs of injury, which I thought was strange. I recorded it with the video on my phone and had technical analysis done on it. There was no discernible injury.”
“Could she have been wearing makeup?”
Scarlett shook her head. “I’ve done a lot of work in the beauty industry. Some of my closest friends manufacture cosmetics and skincare. No way could makeup have covered an injury like that. Furthermore, the investigator found another video online of Fleur at a live awards show that same evening.”
Scarlett reached into her bag and gave Finn an envelope. “Here are the videos and photos made from them.” She removed some pictures. “As you can see, Fleur tried to cover her injury with makeup, but she couldn’t hide the swelling. Plus, here’s a paparazzi photo from the morning I picked her up at the Chateau Marmont.” She pointed to Fleur’s lip. “She tried to angle her head, but this photographer caught it.”
As he inspected the photos, Finn whistled. “That was a real bruiser.” He made a note. “How would you describe the relationship between Lucan and Fleur?”
“Personal and intimate. The aircraft has a stateroom, and they both disappeared into it when the flight took off from London. Fleur didn’t come out until we landed in Van Nuys. Lucan was with her most of the time.”
With a little smile, Scarlett drew a package Lavender had given her that morning from her purse. “This is a statement from the attendant on the flight. Along with video from the aircraft cabin security cameras. Lucan removed the video and threw it in the trash at the airport after that flight. As luck would have it, the flight attendant saw him toss it out.”
“Amazing.” Finn took the package and scribbled more notes. “So how did you put it all together?”
Scarlett nodded and went on. “After Fleur backed out of the High Gloss agreement, I heard a CNBC reporter discussing the stock price fluctuations of High Gloss and Color Color. Then they played Fleur’s video clip. When I saw her perfectly smooth face, I figured it had been prerecorded. If so, that meant something was rotten. And it usually tracks back to money.” Scarlett glanced at Zelda. “There were too many coincidences.”
“You’re right.” Finn rubbed his jaw. “Anything else you can think of?”
“I shared this with a colleague at Marsh & Gold, David Baylor. I believe someone at the firm might have been listening to our conversation, because shortly after that, I survived a sniper attack in my hotel room—through the balcony door—at the Ritz Hotel in Madrid. And I was attacked in the parking garage at my office building.”
“Good Lord,” Finn said, alarmed. “Did the police have any suspects?”
She shook her head. She pulled out several documents she’d just received by fax. “Here’s the Spanish police report and here’s the Ritz Hotel manager’s statement. That confirms Lucan asked him to extend my stay two days before Lucan suggested it to me. And insisted upon it.”
“So Lucan Blackstone set you up.” Finn whistled. “You’ve conducted quite the investigation. Sure you don’t want to come to work for us?”
“No, I only want to see justice done.” Scarlett sat back in her chair, satisfied. Lucan would soon get his payback.
Half an hour later Scarlett opened the door to Johnny’s apartment, dropped her bag by the door, and kicked her shoes off.
“Is that you, Scarlett?”
Johnny emerged from the kitchen. “You’ve had it tough lately,” he said, kissing her. He wrapped his arms around her, and she rested her head on his shoulder. She loved coming home to him.
“What smells so good?”
“I’m making shrimp Veracruz and chile rellenos.”
Scarlett smiled with pleasure. “Another hidden talent, I see.”
Johnny unbuttoned her blouse and ran his lips along the upper curve of her breast. “Go change and get comfortable. Dinner will be ready soon. And after that, I’m going to draw a bath for you and serenade you on the guitar while you relax in the tub.”
“Mmm, I’d like that.” Just hearing his warm loving voice, tension melted from her shoulders. Scarlett smiled as she thought of the last time he’d drawn a bath for her. “More bubbles, too, please.”
Johnny laughed. “We’ll never forget that night, will we?”
The following day, Zelda called Lucan for his deposition. Scarlett joined her in the conference room in her Beverly Hills office, and put her notes and binder on the table. At least they didn’t have to trek to downtown Los Angeles.
Lucan arrived with the bald-headed lawyer who had deposed Scarlett. David Baylor followed behind them, looking nearly as haggard as Lucan. He needed a haircut, and he’d missed a few spots in what looked like a harried shaving job. David’s grooming was usually impeccable.
Zelda acknowledged the court reporter, and folded her hands on the conference table. “State your name for the record.”
Lucan smirked. “Lucan Blackstone.”
Scarlett took pleasure in seeing Lucan on the hot seat, though not as much as she’d thought she would. His charm had vanished, and he looked like hell—even worse than the last time she’d seen him. His normally tanned skin was sallow, his eyes were sunken, and his hands were trembling. Lucan was a seasoned attorney with years of trial work under his belt. Clearly something was troubling him more than this deposition.
Her eyes slid across to David, who was chewing his nails. And David as well.
Zelda continued her line of questioning. After a couple of hours, she came to the event on board the corporate jet, where Lucan had attacked Scarlett.
Lucan vehemently denied it. His eyes darted around the room as if he were looking for an escape route. Perspiration gathered on his brow, and his face grew white. “I need to make a piss,” he mumbled.
Zelda arched a brow and shot a look at the Lucan’s attorney. “That’s fine.”
While the men were out of the room, Zelda said to Scarlett, “I think he’s going to break.”
“Sure looks like it.” Scarlett wondered what she could to hasten his demise.
“Actually, it looks like he’s going through withdrawals. Does he have a drug or alcohol problem?”
“I’d say so. I don’t think a day went by that he didn’t have a few cocktails. He had a bar full of designer water bottles. One summer night we were working late and I was parched. When he went to the bathroom, I grabbed a bottle from the bar, opened it, and took a drink. What I thought was water was pure vodka instead. I nearly choked. I don’t drink.” She paused, recalling Lucan’s asinine reaction. “Lucan thought it was hilarious.”
“Interesting.” Zelda made a note on her pad. “Anything else?”
“He offered me a white powder on the flight back from London.”
“Did you take it?”
“Of course not.”
Zelda beamed her approval. “I imagine this might be on the video from the cabin.”
Scarlett nodded. “That, too.”
“Anything else you can think of?”
Scarlett considered her words. What might make Lucan flip? “I have an idea. I’ll be right back,” she said. She hurried downstairs to the gift shop next door. A few days ago she’d been shopping for a thank-you gift to send to Teresa and Miguel and remembered seeing something that jogged her memory.
Twenty minutes later, Scarlett was back in the conference room when Lucan, David, and their lawyer trooped in.
“Ask me for a pen in a few minutes,” she whispered to Zelda. She closed her binder and waited.
Zelda nodded and continued her line of questioning. Lucan dodged questions, gave partial answers, and flat-out lied under oath.
Scarlett knew she should be used to Lucan’s lies, but she was still appalled at the level of his dishonesty.
Several more exchanges ensued. Zelda had been making notes, but she stopped to shake her pen. “Excuse me. My pen is not working. Scarlett, do you have an extra one on you?”
Scarlett grinned. “Surely you jest,” she said, repeating the words she’d uttered to Lucan before the unfortunate demise of his beloved pen. She pulled out a pen with a red-and-black diamond-shaped design. A harlequin pen inspired by Rigoletto, the court jester. She handed it to Zelda and braced herself.
Lucan’s eyes dropped to the pen. As he stared at it, his eyes widened and his nostrils flared. He leaped to his feet and pointed at Scarlett. “You! This is your fault!”
This time, Scarlett was ready for the onslaught.
“Lucan, settle down.” David jumped up and grabbed Lucan’s arm in an attempt to restrain him, but Lucan thrashed him aside. He reached into his suit jacket and whipped out something that glinted under the fluorescent lights overhead.
The court reporter and the bald attorney dove for the floor. Scarlett realized with horror what Lucan held in his hand.
A gun.
The terror she’d known at the Ritz Hotel came crashing back to her. She’d meant to break his façade, but how could she have known he was armed? For a moment, she was paralyzed with fear.
David tried to wrestle the handgun away from Lucan, while the court reporter dialed for the police on her cell phone.
Zelda crouched and tugged Scarlett’s jacket. “Get down!” Scarlett tucked beside her.
As David and Lucan struggled, a shot rang out, and the window to the street shattered in a shower of glass. “Where’s Scarlett?” Lucan yelled. “Come out, come out.”
How dare he intimidate me again? Scarlett leapt up, picked up her binder and flung it at his throat. Lucan choked and grabbed his neck. The gun clattered to the floor, and Zelda snatched it away.
Lucan lunged across the table for her, but Scarlett scrambled up and slid across, kneeing him in the groin as she did, and finished him off with a stiletto heel to his instep.
Bellowing in agony, Lucan doubled over and rolled onto the floor, ranting and spewing choice words. “You bitch, you should’ve died in Madrid.”
David and the other attorney restrained Lucan on the floor.
“You’re a sorry excuse for a human being.” Scarlett glared down at him in disgust. “You’ll get your justice.” She was shaking from the ordeal, but now she was the one in control.
The building security guard appeared and took over from David and the other attorney, restraining Lucan in a chair. The Beverly Hills police station was a few blocks away; officers arrived in minutes.
After Lucan was arrested, David turned to Scarlett. He was breathing heavily from the exertion and wore a tired expression on his face. “Nice move with the pen, Scarlett.”
She raised her brow. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She turned to watch Lucan being taken away in handcuffs. “But something sure got into your partner.” She breathed out a long sigh of relief. With Lucan in custody, she’d rest easier.
David shoved his hands into his pockets. “This morning he got a call from a guy named Finn at the SEC. Same one who’s been trying to reach me.”
“Really? Sounds like a coincidence to me.” Scarlett shot a look at Zelda, who pursed her lips and nodded. “You should probably return his call.”
Lucan’s attorney brushed himself off and turned to Zelda. “We’ll have a settlement offer to you later today.”
“I’m sure the partners at Marsh & Gold wouldn’t want this case to go to trial.” Zelda smoothed her short hair and picked up her glasses from the floor. “So it had
better be a damn good offer.”
The opposing lawyer heaved a deep sigh. “No doubt it will be.”
19
A FEW DAYS later, Scarlett met Penelope for lunch in the fashionable Melrose area. As they ate, they caught up and discussed the final points of the licensing agreement Scarlett had prepared between Penelope and High Gloss Cosmetics for a new high fashion color cosmetics line to rival MAC Cosmetics. Fashion News Daily, the beauty industry trade paper, called it the deal of the decade.
Due to Fleur’s withdrawal and the ensuing time crunch, Olga Kaminsky had hired Penelope on a contract basis to collaborate on the new line while the formal licensing agreement was being finalized. It wasn’t an ideal situation, but all parties were in agreement and wanted to move forward.
After lunch, Scarlett and Penelope started back to the nearby High Gloss offices. It was a sunny day for a walk.
“I think Olga will be fine with your request,” Scarlett said. “I’ll add that to the contract, and then it will be ready for final signatures.”
“These agreements always take twice as long as I imagine they will,” Penelope replied. “I appreciate your work, Scarlett.”
As Penelope glided along the sidewalk in her short, sapphire blue, silk shift dress, Scarlett saw heads turning in her wake. Penelope was one of the most stunning faces on the runway. And today her hair was dark indigo blue. Scarlett suppressed a giggle when one teenaged boy stumbled into a fire hydrant as he was checking out Penelope’s endless legs.
“Watch out there, sugar.” Penelope waved at the teenager, who blushed furiously.
Penelope was a dream client. She was so gorgeous, nice, and down to earth, unlike some other famous people she had worked with, such as Fleur. Penelope modestly credited it to her upbringing in Denmark, which she told Scarlett had the distinction of being rated one of the happiest country in the world.
