And Justice for Some

by Joanne Sydney Lessner

  The buzzer rang. Isobel shot Delphi a questioning look. Delphi shrugged and walked over to the intercom.

  “Hello?”

  “It’s Percival.”

  “Let him up,” Isobel said. “No, wait—don’t!”

  Delphi held her finger on the button. Isobel sighed and put her head down on the counter.

  “Come on in,” Delphi said, opening the door a few moments later. “But be warned, the mood is dire.”

  He set down his backpack. “Why? What happened?”

  Isobel shook her head, still face down. “It’s too embarrassing,” she said into her elbows.

  “She got sacked,” Delphi volunteered. “For overstepping.”

  Percival raised an eyebrow. “You mean investigating?”

  Isobel came up for air, her face red. “Yes. But it wasn’t a total loss. I have new information.” She briefly filled him in.

  “Well, I have information, too. That’s why I came by. Maybe this will cheer you up.” He unzipped his backpack and pulled out a sheaf of papers. “I found the connection between Angelina Rivington and Willard Harrison. It seems among her many properties is this.”

  He slapped down a photo of an institutional brick building of yellowish stone. A sign at the entrance read “Empire State Youth Camp.”

  “Doesn’t look like a fun place to spend the summer,” Delphi commented.

  “Camp is a euphemism,” Percival said. “It’s a correctional facility. But here’s where it gets interesting. It’s off the books. She set it up under the auspices of Rivington Properties as a shell company, ESYC Partners, but it’s funded from other sources.”

  “What other sources?” Isobel asked, her pulse quickening.

  “Multiple private investors. At least a few of whom will be familiar to you.”

  He flipped the photo over to reveal a list of scribbled names. “Willard Harrison, Gordon Lang, Mason Crawford.”

  “Well, well, well…” muttered Delphi.

  “And let me tell you, the camp is turning quite a profit.”

  “So that’s where Harrison’s money comes from.” Isobel picked up the list. “Isn’t this a conflict of interest? A judge investing in a jail?”

  “You bet. Especially if he’s keeping the beds full to raise revenue.”

  Isobel shook her head in wonder. “How did you find this?”

  “You really want to know?”

  “I do,” Delphi said.

  Percival shrugged innocently. “I checked the county property records. Then I did a little creative hacking into a few key databases and wrote a screen-scraping algorithm to cross-reference it all. Took me a half hour in Python.”

  Delphi blinked. “Okay, I have no idea what you just said.”

  Isobel hopped off the barstool with renewed energy. “What do you think? Some kind of bust-up between Harrison and Rivington? She skips out on the dinner, hides behind a potted palm, and shoots him?”

  “But first sends him a threatening letter?” Delphi asked. “Honestly, I don’t see either her or Candy sending it. That’s what you do to someone you don’t have personal contact with.”

  Percival flipped the photo over again, and they stared at the Empire State Youth Camp. “You know what we really need?”

  “What?”

  “Access to Harrison’s case files. Who did he send to ‘camp’?”

  Delphi and Isobel exchanged a glance. Isobel shook her head ever so slightly, but Delphi cleared her throat.

  “That’s funny, we were just saying the same thing.”

  “But, unfortunately, we don’t have access to court dockets anymore,” Isobel said in a brittle voice. “Oh, well.”

  “Unless she calls James,” Delphi said.

  Percival looked at Isobel in surprise. “Why wouldn’t you call James? I’m sure he’d be willing to help.”

  “Are you kidding? He couldn’t have been less happy to see me on the street.”

  “That’s because you no longer have safe common ground. You need a new social context for each other. I bet he’d be relieved.”

  “See?” Delphi crowed. “That’s exactly what I said.”

  Isobel glared at her. “No, you didn’t. You said I should apologize.”

  “Whatever. Percival’s right. We’re both tired of you two pretending you don’t like each other.” Delphi scooped up Isobel’s phone from the counter and thrust it at her. “Here. Call him.”

  Isobel threw a pleading gaze at Percival. “Now? It’s Friday night!”

  “No time like the present,” he said airily.

  Resigned, Isobel took the phone. “Fine. But if this goes wrong, it’s all on you.”

  TWENTY-ONE

  “She’s gorgeous,” Lily whispered to James as Jayla passed them, proudly walking parentless down the aisle in an ivory silk dress that accentuated every taut, toned curve of her caramel-colored body. Taking in the sight of the beautiful and brilliant woman he had rejected, James was forced to agree.

  At the front of the church stood Michael, his Afro tamed for the occasion, grinning so giddily that James suspected his manic expression masked a quiet terror at having tethered himself to such a driven, ambitious, albeit sexy force of nature. Jayla’s long-lashed cat eyes radiated happiness but also triumph at having achieved a goal established early in life. What James knew from experience, and what he imagined Michael was only just beginning to understand, was that Jayla considered a husband a work in progress for her to complete, another accomplishment to claim. The thought had terrified James. He wondered if Michael was smart enough to be scared.

  “I can’t believe you broke up with her,” Lily said. “What’s wrong with you?”

  “Believe me, beauty is only skin deep,” he returned.

  “Shhh,” admonished an elderly lady in an enormous pink hat festooned with flowers.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, brothers and sisters, we are gathered here today…”

  James closed his eyes, flooded with a sudden, strange regret at the familiar words. What was wrong with him? Jayla was a catch by anyone’s standards, except, apparently, his. He liked to think he’d seen her ambition for what it was: an opportunity to rewrite the past rather than create a future. Her father had ended his days drunk and disoriented on the streets, while her mother had juggled jobs cleaning houses and waitressing in a Harlem diner. Jayla had two business degrees from NYU and was on the partner track at an important consulting firm. The only piece missing was the adoring husband, respectably employed, but still a few paces behind. Michael was managing an expanding construction business run by family friends. He fit the bill nicely.

  But, James wondered, was it such a terrible thing to try to reverse your fortune? Wasn’t that what he was doing by returning to college with an eye on law school? His childhood circumstances had been very different from Jayla’s. His parents were happily married and had always supported him, even after he let them down. Maybe life was all about making amends, whether to yourself or others. He glanced sideways at Lily, who was leaning forward slightly, riveted by the reverend’s oratory. She was wearing a turquoise dress and stiletto boots, and with a spot of makeup and her hair blown out, she was much more attractive than he’d imagined, having only ever seen her in tattered workout gear. He wondered what his friends Gerald and Dewayne would think when they saw her.

  “And now,” intoned the reverend, “if anyone knows of any just cause or impediment why these two people may not be joined together in holy matrimony, speak now or forever hold your peace.”

  James shot to his feet. Gasps and whispers flew through the crowd. Jayla’s bouquet slipped from her hand, and she brought her fingers up to her throat, where they scrabbled at her pearls. Michael’s eyes grew wide, and a look of pure hatred transformed his usually placid features. James’s hand flew to his pocket.

  “It’s not—I didn’t mean—” He held up his still vibrating phone to demonstrate, to explain, but it fell from his hands. Lily caught it. “My phone…” he stammered. �
�Forgot to turn it off. Ummm…yeah. It’s all good. Congratulations.”

  He sat down, hitting the bench hard, his heart hammering in his chest.

  “Oh, my God, that was epic,” Lily breathed.

  The whispering gave way to a release of nervous giggles as the congregation returned their attention to the altar. Jayla’s maid of honor picked up the fallen bouquet and handed it back to her. Jayla’s eyes squeezed shut, and James knew she was fighting back tears. She didn’t love Michael, but she had made her peace with settling. If she thought for a moment that James had changed his mind… It was a cruel joke, one he hadn’t meant to play. Jayla opened her eyes and turned back to Michael, an uncharacteristically weak smile playing over her lips. James knew she would never forgive him.

  “Whoever that was, I’m going to kill them,” he muttered through clenched teeth.

  Lily handed his phone back, an expression of smug satisfaction on her face. He knew then, without looking down, who had called.

  “No answer.” Isobel set her phone on the counter.

  “Did you leave a message?” Delphi asked.

  Isobel shook her head. “It’s too complicated. I feel like I won’t know where to start until I hear his voice. It all depends on how he answers the phone.”

  “So let’s have some dinner, and then you can try again in a little bit,” Delphi suggested.

  Isobel looked pointedly at her brother. “I’m not cooking.”

  “Okay, sweepings of the kitchen. What have you got?” he asked gamely.

  “See for yourself,” Isobel said. “I lack your ability to look at assorted leftovers and envision an integrated culinary masterpiece.”

  While Percival examined the contents of the pantry and refrigerator, Isobel stared moodily at her phone. She’d have to call James back, otherwise it would look like a mistake. Or worse, he would call her, and then she’d be the one taken by surprise. In order for this reconciliation to work, she couldn’t afford to be wrong-footed. There was a way to handle James. It couldn’t look like she was only getting in touch because she needed him, which, of course, she was. She had to at least pretend she wanted to restart their relationship on new, more comfortable grounds. And maybe she didn’t even have to pretend. With her defenses around her ankles like shed clothing, she was forced to admit that she missed him.

  The phone rang, startling her out of her reverie.

  “It’s him! What should I do?”

  “What’s wrong with you? Answer it,” Delphi commanded.

  Isobel flapped her hands helplessly for a moment and then snatched up her phone.

  There was no sound, just heavy breathing, and for a moment Isobel thought James had butt-dialed her. Before she could say hello, he spoke in a slow, deliberate voice.

  “I’m going to make this really easy for the officer in charge of your homicide. I am going to kill you.”

  Isobel’s face ran hot. “That’s not funny. How can you joke like that?”

  “Oh, I am so not joking. Do you know what I was doing when you called?”

  “Taking a dump? How could I possibly know?” Percival shot her a look, but she waved him away.

  “I’m at Jayla’s wedding. You interrupted her wedding.”

  “You didn’t turn your phone off?” she asked, incredulous.

  “Of course I turned it off! I’m not an idiot.”

  “Then what the fuck are you talking about?”

  “Do something!” Delphi hissed to Percival.

  “Iz…”

  The look she shot Percival was so fierce that his hands flew up as if to deflect a blow.

  “It was on vibrate, and I jumped up right when they were doing the forever hold your peace part. You fucking ruined my life!”

  “I ruined your life? Sounds to me like you ruined Jayla’s. Oh, no, wait. You already did that. Next time turn your phone all the way off, asshole, and don’t blame me!”

  Isobel threw her phone across the room, where it landed with a bounce in the middle of her air mattress. She stood panting for a moment. Then she turned to Percival and Delphi, who were staring at her, flabbergasted.

  She set her fists defiantly on her hips. “I think that went well. Don’t you?”

  TWENTY-TWO

  James took their drinks—vodka tonic for him, chardonnay for Lily—with a trembling hand. He knew it was a bad idea, but there was no earthly way he was going to get through the reception without help, and if he left now, it would only fan the rumor flames. He had to tough it out, at least until after the entrée. The worst of it, the receiving line, was behind him, and he’d managed to dash past Jayla as she was being smothered with wet kisses by a big, burly cousin who’d once had a crush on her. James had given Michael’s hand a dutiful shake without looking him in the eye, and then ducked out of the church and down the street to call Isobel.

  Lily had nattered at him nonstop on the short walk from the church to the reception, but he’d tuned her out. Not that it mattered. She was working through the experience of a Harlem wedding for herself, not him. He was replaying every awful moment of the last half hour, from his drastically misleading interruption of the service to his heated exchange with Isobel. He was furious at all three of them: Isobel, Lily, and Jayla. They were conspiring to make him ridiculous. He didn’t stand a chance.

  At the Alhambra Ballroom, he’d made a beeline for the bar. Lily didn’t know anything about his struggles with alcoholism, and for that he was grateful. Jayla, who had been the one to get him to AA, was probably so angry with him right now that she would happily pour vodka down his throat in revenge. With that bizarre justification, he downed his drink and immediately demanded a refill. Lily was staring at him, a curious expression on her face.

  “What?” he challenged.

  “You know she’s still in love with you,” Lily said, as if she’d been waiting for an opening to make this observation.

  “Doesn’t matter. I’m not in love with her.”

  “Because you’re in love with Isobel.”

  “What the—are you fucking kidding me? After what just happened?”

  “Her timing was unfortunate, but you don’t change your mind about somebody just because they called you.” Lily took a sip of wine. “You want to hear what I think?”

  “Do I have a choice?”

  “I think deep down you wanted to stand up at that moment. You wanted to object—not because you wish it were you—but because you know Jayla doesn’t really love Michael. I mean, your phone must vibrate in your pocket all the time, right? You don’t always jump to your feet. Oh, I don’t think you really intended to stop the wedding. You just wanted Jayla to know that you know, and for everyone else to put it together.”

  James stared at her, fuming. “Are you finished?”

  Lily tossed her long dark hair. “Not yet. I know why you invited me. It all makes sense now. You wanted to taunt Jayla, but you couldn’t bring Isobel. I’m the next best thing. I’m not really a threat, just a nuisance. I get it. It’s cool.” She grabbed a mini quiche off a passing tray and popped it into her mouth. “Food’s good, anyway.”

  “Yeah, now you’re finished.” He stalked away toward Gerald and Dewayne, who were standing off to the side with two attractive women he didn’t know. Dewayne spotted him and nudged Gerald, who waved.

  “You really should call her back and apologize.” Lily stumbled after James in her torturously high heels. “It wasn’t her fault. And don’t you want to know why she was calling you?”

  “I told you, we’re finished with this topic,” he bellowed.

  Two older women glared at him as he passed and broke into sharp whispers when they saw Lily tottering after him.

  “Hey, man.” Gerald put his arm around the plump, pretty woman next to him. “This is Alice. And that’s Nina.”

  Lily didn’t wait for James to respond. “I’m Lily,” she announced.

  Nina, a slender ebony-skinned woman in a fuchsia sheath, wrinkled her nose in distaste, but Alice gave
a chirpy hello.

  James caught Gerald’s uncomfortable glance at his drink and lifted his half-empty glass in a toast. “When in Rome!”

  “Yeah, man, okay.” Gerald gave a little laugh.

  “Oh, look,” said Alice, examining Lily’s place card. “We’re all at the same table.”

  “That’s good, because I don’t know a soul here except you guys,” Lily said, beaming around the group.

  “You don’t know us,” Nina said coolly. “You just met us.”

  “In the compressed time period of a formal event, that counts as intimate friendship,” Lily declared.

  Nina slipped her arm through Dewayne’s. “I want to say hi to Tamika. I haven’t seen her in ages.”

  As they walked away, James heard Dewayne say, “But you hate Tamika.”

  Gerald tugged his arm. “Seriously, man, you sure you should be drinking?”

  James looked down at his empty glass. “I’m sure I shouldn’t. But after what happened in there? Shit.”

  “The look on your face!” Gerald laughed, then sobered. “The look on her face.”

  James followed his friend’s gaze. Jayla and Michael were standing in a clump of people on the other side of the room. She had recovered her equilibrium—cool, collected Jayla was in the house. But James knew his reckoning would come, even if it wasn’t tonight.

  “So what’s the deal with this one?” Gerald whispered, nodding toward Lily, who was gabbing happily with Alice.

  “Just a friend. Didn’t have a date. Didn’t want to come alone.”

  “She, uh….stands out.”

  James took in the guests. “She’s not the only one. Some of Jayla’s work friends and stuff.”

  Gerald elbowed him. “You’re such a fucking racist. I meant she’s, like, a kid.”

  “Oh, yeah.” James winced at his mistake. “She goes to Barnard. I know her from the gym.”

  “So this isn’t the chick you have a thing for?”