Sedona Law 6: A Legal Thriller

by Dave Daren

  She ran her hands through her hair and groaned as she collapsed in her desk. I smirked. AJ was typically fairly level headed, but from time to time, she got frustrated enough to get up on her soapbox and unleash a nice rant, and I found it mildly amusing.

  “I’m glad to be here, working with proper adults,” she said. “Who, although hopelessly in love, know how to work together without acting like they want to rip each other’s clothes off.”

  “Really?” I mused. “Is that how we act? I guess we’re pretty damn good actors then.”

  Vicki blushed and AJ laughed.

  “You don’t know what happened back in the treehouse days,” I continued.

  “Oh, God,” AJ rolled her eyes. “I forgot about the treehouse days. Yeah, that’s what it feels like. The treehouse days. You walk in that room, so many raging hormones buzzing around, you might get hit in the head with one.”

  “We weren’t that bad in the treehouse days,” Vicki insisted.

  AJ cleared her throat and made a face.

  “Did Landon go back to Chicago?” Vicki asked in a knowing tone.

  AJ’s expression said it all.

  “That’s the real problem,” Vicki said. “When is he coming back?”

  “Thanksgiving,” she said. “He’s going to finish out this semester residential. And next semester will be his last, and he’ll do it online so he can work on the studio with us.”

  “What about you?” Vicki asked. “How are you doing with college and the studio?”

  She shook her head and took a sip of coffee. “Not too well. I haven’t slept all weekend. Did you meet the wedding planner?”

  “No,” I said. “She canceled on us. She wants to schedule some time in this week.”

  “Sucks,” AJ said. “I’m starting in on these Paradigm contracts.”

  “Great,” I said. “I’ve got most of the small business licensing in process. On those contracts, use our standard royalty template, and put in your adjustments, and I’ll look them over before we finalize them.”

  “Great,” AJ said.

  She flipped open her laptop, and she and Vicki continued to chatter about the wedding. I tuned them out and sorted through the bank statements Kelsi Mathews had sent me, and now the discovery had come in from Roy.

  I tediously made notes on each item and expense. Everything was checking out. I found the ten thousand dollar donation to the Kenyan Wildlife Fund on James’ credit card. I tried to find any corresponding charges anywhere else. But, it looked like there was a page missing from one of the statements.

  I had sorted most of the papers Kelsi had sent me. But, there was a pile I still hadn’t gotten to. I pulled the accordian file back out and laid the papers in categories one by one.

  Then, I noticed something I hadn’t before. It was a printed email chain that sounded a lot like…

  “Recording contract negotiations,” I whispered.

  I read the emails in detail. James was messaging back and forth to a label manager. Then, I laughed when I read the manager’s name.

  “Brent Levinson,” I shook my head.

  He was the label head at La Vista I had worked with on Jagger’s band. The one that was a one man Yelp listing when Johnny Hawthorne had asked about the best strip clubs in Orange County.

  “Brent Levinson?” Vicki said. “From La Vista?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “You’ve met him?”

  She rolled her eyes. “He used to grab my ass every time I saw him.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me,” I said. “But he and James were in contract negotiations as late as last month.”

  “No kidding,” she said. “Just James? Not the band?”

  “Looks like it,” I said. “From what I can tell from these emails.”

  “James had a record deal with La Vista?” AJ asked.

  “He was working on one,” I said as I read the emails in greater detail. “They couldn’t agree on a signing bonus amount.”

  “Did he ever get one?” Vicki asked. “You have his bank statements.”

  I pored over the statements, and couldn’t find any deposits from Arista, or any amount close to the numbers in the emails. The emails referenced the contract being sent.

  “There’s nothing here,” I said. “He didn’t get the money.”

  “So he didn’t sign,” Vicki concluded.

  “Not necessarily,” I said. “It could have still been in offer status when he died. This is just one chain of messages. There could be others.”

  “We need that contract,” Vicki said.

  “What would that prove though?” I asked as I stroked my chin.

  “I don’t know,” Vicki said. “But we need it.”

  “Kelsi,” I said. “Kelsi would know.”

  “But,’ Vicki said. “She’s fragile. I’d rather not call her unless we need to.”

  “What email address is it?” AJ asked.

  “It’s an AOL account,” I said.

  “Got it,” she said. “I just sent you the login.”

  “What?” I asked as an email from AJ popped in my email.

  “In all that junk she sent us,” AJ said, “one of them was a spiral where James had written down a bunch of passwords and logins. I created a spreadsheet out of them just in case we needed them.”

  “You have all his passwords?” I asked. “To what else?”

  “It’s mainly to email accounts,” she said. “His credit cards and bank logins, which she had already given us anyway. His Netflix, Hulu, and Amazon.”

  “Wow,” I said. “I guess if she gave them to us…”

  “She doesn’t know she gave them to us,” Vicki said.

  “She asked us not to call her, though,” I said. “So if she wants minimal contact, I don’t see any problem with using the information to get the information we need for her case. Besides, she insisted that she already gave us everything she had. So, she wants us to use whatever information she gave us.”

  “Fine,” Vicki said. “I still think it’s a little shady.”

  “I would agree with you,” I said. “If she hadn’t asked us not to contact her.”

  I pulled the login for AOL mail, and plugged in the login AJ sent me.

  “And I’m in,” I announced.

  “And what’s there?” Vicki asked.

  “I’m still not sure,” I scanned the list of messages.

  It had been a few weeks since his death, and his unread emails had piled up. Most were junk mail. Credit card offers, subscriptions to music equipment catalogs...I scrolled through page after page and didn’t find anything that was a real message. I wanted to see if there was anything else besides the La Vista contract that would be of note. Finally, I gave up and searched his inbox for Brent Levinson. Bingo. There were several message strings.

  In one subject line, it read “Contract Offer for James Matthews.”

  “And this is what we need,” I said.

  I opened the message and downloaded the attachment.

  “What date did they get back from Africa?” I asked.

  “The sixteenth of last month,” AJ answered.

  “Jesus,” I said. “The contract’s dated the fourteenth. He got this in Africa.”

  I printed the contract out and read it. It was a standard La Vista contract. I had labored intensely over the one with Jagger’s band, so I knew every clause and provision in their standard agreement. I also knew which sections Brent would or wouldn’t amend.

  “He wasn’t taking the band,” I announced. “He was firing them all, and doing a six month residency in Vegas, and then going to L.A. to record for Arista.”

  “What a massive dick,” AJ commented.

  “It gets worse,” I said. “He was getting a five hundred thousand dollar signing bonus.”

  “Wow,” Vicki laughed. “So why was he going to Vegas? Why not just dump Vegas and sign on with Arista?”

  “Because,” I said. “From the email conversations, he already signed the deal with Vegas bef
ore the deal with La Vista was finalized.”

  “Okay,” Vicki said. “So Kelsi was about to get rich. So why was she screwing around with the manager?”

  “The manager that he had a contract with?” I asked.

  “The bullshit contract,” Vicki concluded. “That he was about to screw.”

  “Did she feel guilty?” I wondered. “Fuck it. I’m calling her.”

  I pulled out my phone and found Kelsi’s number. She answered pretty quickly.

  “Kelsi,” I said. “Henry Irving. How are you doing today?”

  “Great,” her tone was flat. “I’ve had cops at my house every day this week, and I desperately need a vacation, but I can’t leave the county. My life is a wreck.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” I said. “I hope I can make your day better. Did you ever hear from Brent Levinson about that check?”

  There was a pause on the line.

  “Who? What? Check?” Kelsi stammered. “What are you talking about?”

  “Brent Levinson, La Vista Records,” I threw out to jog her memory.

  “I’m sorry Henry, I’m under a lot of stress,” she said. “You’re going to have to be clearer with me.”

  “Fine,” I said. “Right before James came back from Africa, he was offered a deal with La Vista records. I have the contract right here. And there was a half a million dollar sign on bonus. Now, I don’t see any record of that in your bank statements. Where we’re hung up on, is if James actually signed the papers or not. Because if he did, then Brent owes you a hundred grand, regardless.”

  The line was silent for at least thirty seconds.

  “Kelsi?” I prodded. “You still there?”

  “Yeah,” her words were slow and halting. “Okay. I’m really not following you. La Vista Records? A hundred grand? I...I’m completely lost here.”

  “You mean you don’t know anything about the deal James made with La Vista?”

  “No,” she said. “He made a deal with Firenite Entertainment in Vegas to do a six month residency. That’s the only deal I knew of.”

  I chuckled. “Well, I’ve the contract right in front of me. La Vista Records was offering him a three record deal with a five hundred grand advance.”

  “Wow,” she said. “La Vista Records? That’s huge. Wow. I mean, it’s the La Vista Records? The famous one? It’s not some fly by night company in some small town in Wisconsin or something that spells it one letter differently to make you think it’s the real La Vista?”

  I laughed. “No. The guy he was working with at La Vista, the one whose name is all over this contract, I actually know pretty well. He’s legit. I’ve had drinks with him, met him in his office. He’s real, and he’s with the real Arista.”

  “Oh my god,” she gushed. “I genuinely had no idea.”

  “Well,” I said. “Here’s the good news. If he signed and returned the contract, then they owe you the money regardless.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” she gushed.

  “Nope,” I said. “So what I need you to do, is find out if he signed the contract.”

  “How would I do that?” she asked.

  “The guy at La Vista’s name is Bret Levinson, I’ll text you his number,” I said. “Without a court order, he’s not going to talk to me. But, he will talk to you. The other thing you can do, is look for the contract. Did he have safe deposit box or anything anywhere?”

  “Not that I know of,” she said. “But now I don’t know what else he was hiding. I’ll look around.”

  “You do that,” I said. “If he signed it and sent it in, they’re on the hook.”

  “Got it,” she said. “Thank you, Henry.”

  “You bet,” I said.

  We ended the call and I texted her Brent’s number. Then I leaned back in my chair and thought.

  “She didn’t know about the contract?” Vicki asked incredulously.

  I shook my head.

  “Why the hell wouldn’t you tell your wife that you just paydirt as a rockstar?” I wondered.

  And that’s when it hit me.

  “Because he was leaving her,” Vicki echoed my thoughts.

  “Damn,” AJ said. “This guy was cold.”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “I mean, she was screwing his manager.”

  “And so he screwed them both over,” Vicki said.

  “He screwed all of them over, “ AJ added. “He cut ties with everyone he knew. Why?”

  We were all silent for several minutes while we pondered the question.

  “I want to know who knew about this contract,” I said. “Because in all of the conversations we’ve had, no one mentioned anything about La Vista, a record deal, Brent Levinson. Nothing. There was plenty about the residency in Vegas, and about firing the band. But, nothing about a record deal.”

  “Who in the band can we trust?” Vicki asked.

  “It’s easier to find people we can’t trust,” I said.

  “Roy Oberland,” we all said in unison.

  I grabbed my keys and shoved the contract into my padfolio.

  “I’m going out there,” I said.

  I got in my car and drove out to Roy’s Body Shop. It occured to me that Roy might not be in. The green Jaguar was gone when I got there, and the yard was deserted.

  The door was open, so I walked in tentatively. The lights in the lobby were all off, but Roy’s office was lit up. He wasn’t alone.

  “I get it, Tony,” he said. “But this place is crawling with Feds, and I got Kelsi’s lawyer so far up my ass I can’t breathe.”

  “I know,” Tony said. “He was at Universal the other day asking shit.”

  “Did they tell him anything?” Roy asked.

  “No,” Tony laughed. “They told him I was in jail.”

  “Brilliant,” Roy said. “Bought us some time.”

  I pulled out my phone and brought up the audio app and set it on record.

  “A little time,” Tony said. “But, we’ve got to move this stuff. I can’t sit on it anymore.”

  “Don’t worry, don’t worry,” Roy said. “I’ll take care of you.”

  “Really?” Tony said. “Like you’re taking care of Kelsi?”

  Roy sighed. “I’ve got the situation with Kelsi under control. I’m handling it.”

  “Cause from my vantage point,” Tony said. “You’re hanging that poor lady out to dry. She’s looking at time, man. Serious, real time. And that was your girlfriend, dude. How you going to take care of me? That’s bullshit.”

  “She won’t do time,” Roy said. “I’ll make sure of that.”

  “How are you going to do that?” Tony said. “Huh?”

  Roy slammed the desk, and I startled in the darkness. My elbow hit the gumball machine and it rattled. Tony and Roy were both silent for a minute.

  “Is there somebody out there?” Roy asked.

  Tony stuck his head out into the lobby. I wanted to get more of the conversation recorded, so I couldn’t let them know I was there. Besides I didn’t know entirely what these guys were capable of. I plastered myself against the side wall and tried to avoid detection.

  In the darkness, I made out Tony, a young, short and stocky Hispanic man, with a long, straight ponytail. He glanced around a bit.

  “Yo,” he called out. “Somebody there?”

  Tony waited a couple seconds, and then went back into the office.

  “Nothing,” he told Roy.

  “Whatever,” Roy said dismissively. “Look, as soon as I find Montague--”

  “Montague’s a fucking fairy ass pussy,” Tony said. “Why the hell--”

  I heard Roy chuckle a bit.

  “Because we need his fairy ass cover,” Roy insisted.

  “It’s a bullshit cover,” Tony said. “After Reba, the whole thing damn near broke wide open.”

  “Yeah,” Roy said. “But it didn’t. I’ve got Durant all tied up.”

  My mouth dropped open and I almost audibly gasped.

  “You su
re about that?” Tony asked.

  “Why are you so jumpy at the sudden?” Roy asked.

  “Look,” Tony said. “My cousin works for this Irving dude.”

  Whoa. Tony Sanchez was AJ’s cousin? Why didn’t she tell me? Was she in class the day I went to go see him at Universal Shipping?

  “Ah, God Tony,” Roy sighed. “We’re back on Irving? He’s nothing to be scared of. He’s nosy as fuck, but at the end of the day, he’s just another Sedona High School graduate, just with some expensive suits….And a smoking hot Asian girlfriend. I’ll give him that.”

  Roy whistled long.

  “Nah, man. It’s more than that,” Tony said. “My cousin, she’s been fishing around me asking questions. Really good ones. I’m scared man. They’re onto us. It’s just a matter of time.”

  `“Like what?” Roy asked.

  “I don’t know,” Tony said. “A lot about Montague, and if I knew where he was.”

  “You don’t,” Roy replied.

  “No,” Tony said. “I don’t. Not exactly. I know he’s in North Carolina somewhere.”

  “So leave it at that,” Roy said.

  “But that’s not the point,” Tony said. “These guys have their fingers in more places than the Feds. They know people.”

  “Okay,” he said. “So let’s take care of them.”

  “Wait, you mean--” Tony gasped. “Dude, that’s my cousin!”

  “Your cousin that wouldn’t think twice about turning you over to the Feds,” Roy said.

  “She wouldn’t do that,” Tony said. “You remember when that tiger got in our trailer park?”

  “Vaguely,” Roy said.

  “We had so much shit on us,” Tony said. “We couldn’t risk calling the cops. I mean, there was so much…”

  “Yeah,” Roy sounded bored. “You’re a junkie. What’s your point.”