Right to an Attorney: A Psychological Thriller

by Sims, R.

  The D.A. said to the detective, “I want Gerald’s face on the news as a person of interest in an arson investigation. Don’t leak anything about a kidnapping or the $3.3 billion. Find out everything you can about Gerald Parker before contacting the media.”

  The detective said, “And what about Eric?”

  “Find him, too. Find out whether he or anybody close to him owns a Lexus SUV. If so, arrest Eric on arson charges.”

  Jimmy said, “That’s his dad’s truck.”

  The D.A. said, “I’m sure you’re right, but we can’t go on your word alone.”

  CHAPTER 6

  To billionaire investor Doug Ramsey, pissed was an understatement. He’d invested a billion dollars of his fortune in Kevin Orwells’ company, iTFIGURES, and now renown reporter William Oxcart was on cable news channel SHN telling the world about Doug’s loss.

  There were 106 investors who had lost in the scam, but the SunHot Lead reporter seemed to be more interested in Doug’s loss. To be fair, Doug’s story was interesting because it came with a bit of irony. He’d invested more in the Herbyte 1.0 than any other single investor —$1 billion— and up until that point hadn’t made a bad investment since making his first billion dollars thirteen years ago.

  Doug was visiting his best friend and business partner, Peter Boone, in a Burbank, California, mansion. They were watching an 80-inch widescreen television that was hanging on the wall in Peter’s home office. Both men were gray and balding. But age and looks were wholly irrelevant to them.

  Doug said, “Hire someone who can bring to me the person or persons responsible for taking the $3.3 billion. I’ll gladly take care of all expenses. Five million should cover it. And if they’re successful, the reward is $20 million.”

  Peter said, “If you can recover all the stolen money, you will have made more than a 300 percent profit on your investment. Five million is probably overkill, though.”

  “Not when you factor in paying off police for their investigative files. And now that the Feds have entered the picture, you have to factor in greed.”

  Two white men in their late fifties, both extremely wealthy, having the nerves to utter the words overkill and greed in a plot to gain billions of dollars.

  ***

  Two police officers stood on the porch as one of them rang the doorbell and waited. They were admiring the upscale neighborhood. One of them looked back at the Lexus SUV again.

  Eric Adkins opened the front door, not surprised that there were cops standing on his parents’ front porch. He knew Kevin and Sherri had done a lot of talking, but there was nothing physical to tie him to the Herbyte scandal. The taller policeman said, “Are you Mr. Eric Adkins?”

  “I am. How can I help you?”

  “We have a warrant for your arrest. Could you step out of the residence, sir?”

  “My arrest? What am I being charged with?”

  “Arson, the fire that destroyed much of 1731 Chirrone Street.” The shorter policeman was under no obligation to notify Eric of the charge against him this early in the process. But he enjoyed being the first to tell suspects what they were being charged with.

  CHAPTER 7

  After the cheek kisses, the hugs, and other friendly gestures of love, Dexter and Professor Mackie finally left the Florida airport in her Jaguar. They were on their way to her penthouse in Clearwater. While driving she said, “I saw the papers this morning — USA Today and the Wall Street Journal — and it’s certainly all over television. I haven’t seen your name mentioned, but people will talk, you know?”

  “Yes, ma’am, I know.” He looked at the small, healthy white lady and smiled. “So…Do I call you Professor or Dr. Mackie?”

  “To you, I’m always the professor.” She laughed. “The psychology book got me recognized as a doctor. Nobody expected it to be so successful.”

  He said, “Eight million copies and downloads. I used to own a copy. I memorized so much of it, I probably know more about it than you do.”

  “It took me seventeen years of research and experimenting, and you think you can pick that up in a few years?”

  “That’s exactly why you wrote the book; you wanted to shorten the learning curve when it comes to human behavior.”

  She said, “I’ve been on numerous talk shows and news programs —radio, television, Internet— and have done several speaking engagements. I’ve been asked but have never told anyone why I titled the book Trick of the Parallel or what that title means. If you can at least tell me what the title means, I will owe you three favors.”

  Dexter grinned and rubbed his hands together. “This is like eating grapes in a grocery store.”

  She held up an index finger. “I will not be an accomplice where anything felonious is concerned.”

  “You know I wouldn’t ask you to jeopardize your freedom for me. I may need you for an infraction or two, but not a felony.”

  “Don’t get so happy. If you can’t tell me what the title means, you have to give a third of your share of the money you stole to my favorite cause.”

  “That’s a win-win position for me,” he said.

  Now, tell me what the title means.”

  “Your book is about the mind and how we allow ourselves to be psychologically duped, tricked, or fooled. Most people bought the book with hopes of learning prevention. The majority of your readers are women, and I believe that’s because they’re tired of being fooled by the men in their lives.”

  “I’m still not impressed. Tell me what the title means.”

  Dexter reclined his seat at a 135° angle and relaxed as if he were about to take a nap. He said, “You remember the Rule of Parallel, don’t you?”

  “Sure I do. Two straight lines, if they are truly parallel, will never intersect, and they will run straight forever.”

  He said, “Right. That’s the rule. However, you and I both know that that rule is flawed. We know this because we believe the universe is curved. Forever has to be curved, too. Science says so. Therefore, there are no such things as two straight lines running parallel forever. Things must eventually come full circle before you can understand yourself.”

  She was smiling now. Her student had learned. He was smart. His grammar had even improved over the years. She smiled and said, “You win. That’s exactly why I gave the book that title. Now, tell me why you wanted me to stop visiting you in prison three years ago.”

  “That’s when I started planning to pull off this large-scale crime, and I didn’t want you to be connected to me at any stage of the planning or commission. I’m sure the cops are going to look closer at my friends and relatives for that period.” His consideration for her was genuine because she had, for sixteen years now, filled his parental void.

  CHAPTER 8

  After Eric had acknowledged and waived his rights, and after agreeing to talk to the investigator and detective about the house fire, the would-be interrogators simply got up and left the room without any explanation.

  Eric sat at the table waiting for them to return. He was calm and confident that the police didn’t have a thing on him, regardless of what Jimmy might have told them. He actually had nothing to do with the house fire, so he didn’t mind answering their questions. The cameras were still on in the interview room, he knew, so he just—

  The door was opened and in walked a tall black man in blue jeans, loafers, a dress shirt, and a sports coat. His low haircut was faded at the temples, and the waves in his hair had a touch of gray.

  The black man closed the door and threw a folder on the table, just like in the movies. He was clearly more confident than Eric was right now. He took a seat and began looking all around the room. “Mr. Adkins, I’m Agent Marcus Evans, Harrisburg Bureau of Investigations. Mind if I ask you a few questions?”

  “Ask away?” Eric brought his cuffed hands from under the table and rested them on it.

  “Whenever you don’t want to answer any more questions, just say the word. I understand you’ve been read your rights,
correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “Alright.” The agent opened the folder, made a few mental notes, and closed it again. “Do you know a man by the name of Jerry Lee Bean?”

  Eric’s brain suddenly locked up. Where the fuck did that come from? There was no need to lie about knowing the man. “Yeah, I knew him…know him.”

  “Do you know a man by the name of Ricky Boatwright?”

  “Nope. Never even heard the name before. How do they relate to the arson charges against me?”

  “Well, it seems that both men have gone missing, eight days ago, and their families have filed such reports. But I’m conducting a murder investigation because I don’t believe the two men are still alive.”

  “Why are you asking me about them? I don’t know the Rick guy, and I barely knew Jerry.”

  “Come on, Mr. Adkins. That’s not true.”

  “Agent Evans, you’re wasting your time. I’m confused as to why you’re questioning me about that.”

  “My records show that Jerry went online and rented a Bentley for you. You picked the car up from an agency in Los Angeles.”

  “So? Is that illegal?”

  “Jerry also paid for a round-trip ticket for you to fly out West.”

  Eric stared at the agent, displaying a smirk.

  “That’s a lot of business, yet you claim you barely knew the man.”

  “Whatever. You think that makes me a murderer?”

  “No,” said the agent, “of course not.” He opened the folder again and gave Eric a copy of a document. “On Monday, January the fourth, you and Jerry paid a visit to EcherLife, and you took out a $2 million insurance policy on him.”

  CHAPTER 9

  “What! That’s a fucking lie!” Eric studied the document that purported to be from EcherLife Insurance. He was nervous now. Sick. He knew Dexter had to be behind all this, but how? Dexter hadn’t been released from prison until seven days after the date of the policy. Eric’s address on the form was listed as 722 Sumner Street. Now Jenny came to mind. She hadn’t contacted him since he’d left her in California, and he hadn’t cared to find out why.

  Whatever the case, Eric knew that Jenny would not have helped Dexter to set up an insurance scam. She didn’t even like Dexter. Hated him. In fact, she hadn’t even met him because he was still in prison at the time in question.

  “Hey, Mr. Adkins? You okay?”

  Eric snapped out of it and said, “These signatures are forgeries, and I don’t like your cheap tactics. I’m not saying anything else until I see my lawyer and my own private investigator.”

  Evans nodded. “Then this interview is over.” He was glad to get the denial from Eric. Still, though, he did not have enough to charge Eric with murder. Yet.

  ***

  Detective Bendler and Investigator Kobak had found themselves laughing on more than one occasion while interviewing Gerald Parker. The video wouldn’t look good for them in front of a jury, if it came down to that, but this damn guy kept knocking them off their professional squares.

  Gerald said, “Listen, man, you over-ranked-ass security guard, get…”

  “Hey, watch your language,” Bendler said.

  “I’m not watching a goddamn thing! Charge me with cursing in the police interview room. Shit.” He knew that they wouldn’t do anything. They needed him to keep talking to them. “You muthafuckas put my fuckin face on the news, talking about a point…a person of interest in an arson investigation. Then, when I come down here, you ask me if I ever been kidnapped by a white dude named Eric, a muthafucka I don’t even know. What the hell is this really about?”

  Kobak said, “You were kidnapped by Jimmy Carpenter, a friend of Eric’s. Eric set it all up.”

  “You know what? You’re half-retarded. I bet you got into law enforcement only because your name rhymes with Kojak. Nobody kidnapped me. I’ve been fuckin my wife, Caroline Birchwood — Caroline Parker, for the past week straight. We only stopped for food and showers. Well, I take that back because I fucked her in the kitchen and in the shower, too.”

  Bendler said, “Neither of you had to use the toilet?” He smiled.

  “Nope. We used old-folk diapers and kept it moving. Man, I’m ready to go. I ain’t got time to be fuckin with you two and your dumb-ass questions.”

  Kobak said, “Jimmy says he took you at gunpoint, handcuffed you, and forced you inside a Lexus SUV that belongs to Eric’s dad. He says Eric came to your place later and tore it up looking for account numbers and passwords.”

  “Didn’t happen,” Gerald said. “Can I go now?”

  Bendler smiled at him. “So if we search the house you just moved from, you’re telling us we won’t find Eric’s prints or hair strands anywhere inside?”

  Gerald thought about it, not quite hesitating. “If you do, it’s only because he found a reason to visit the house when it was empty. Maybe he’s interested in buying it.”

  “Hmmm. Your brain works fast,” Bendler said. “And what would be the reason your prints or DNA would be found in the Lexus SUV that belongs to Eric’s father?”

  “I don’t know. But here’s something I do know: If I say I haven’t been kidnapped, then you don’t have a fuckin kidnapping case. You ever saw a victim on the stand telling the jury that nobody did a damn thing to him?”

  CHAPTER 10

  On Friday, Dexter was visiting Janet at her law firm. They were having a private meeting in her office again. Dexter said, “I’m guilty. Let me just put that on the table. I know you don’t want to hear that, but you need to know. My call. Oh, and not of the double homicide. I’m guilty of money laundering and wire fraud.”

  “Why do you think I need to know that?” she asked.

  “Because there are a lot of things you will need to know about me if we are going to be a couple.”

  “I beg your pardon.”

  He smiled. “That’s the part of the representation deal I didn’t want to tell you about the first day we met. Part of my plan requires that the media eventually find out that we’re dating. It has to seem real, something they can verify through an independent source. You and I have to make it appear as though we were really trying to hide our affair.”

  Janet leaned back in her big swivel chair, her face unreadable. “Help me make sense of that. It sounds like you just made that up.”

  “Okay. Let me start over. Janet, can I take you out tomorrow?”

  She laughed, and that brought out more of her beauty. “I’m already seeing someone.”

  “Fire him.”

  “Why, because you have more money than he does?”

  “No. I don’t care about money, not like I used to.”

  “You admit that you’ve stolen more than $3 billion, and you expect me to believe you don’t care about money?”

  “It’ll take some time for you to realize the truth of what I’m telling you,” he said.

  “I agree. A long time.”

  “Is the relationship serious?”

  “Yes. No. I can’t date a client.”

  Dexter leaned back now. “Conflict of interest? An ethical issue?”

  “That’s right. My main priority these days is to provide effective assistance of counsel to you, for your defense, should anyone decide to charge you. I can’t be all that effective if I’m taken off the case by a judge for any reason, can I?”

  “Alright. Forget about the date. Do you have a passport?”

  She didn’t want to forget about the date. She wanted him to keep trying so that she could give in and agree to one date. Damn. Her hard-to-get strategy had backfired. She was thinking of something to say that would get him back on the topic. He waved a hand to get her attention. She’d been staring right at him, looking straight through him.

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” she said. “I was trying to remember if I fed my house cat.”

  “Well, did you?”

  She smiled, appreciating his concern. “I did.”

  “Good. I was asking whether or not you have a
passport.”

  “Sure.”

  “Perfect. Next month I will need you to fly to Italy. I’ll meet you there.”

  “Italy? I don’t understand. Why…”

  “Look at it as a vacation. More important, I’ll explain everything about my role in the Herbyte scandal when we get there.”

  CHAPTER 11

  Janet was slightly rocking her swivel chair back and forth now. “Why can’t you just explain it all to me today, right here?”

  “Because my role is not over yet. There are a few more things that I have to set up. Plus, I’m having a conference there.”

  “How long would we be there?”

  “We would be away for three to four weeks.”

  “Three to four weeks! Dexter. Who’s going to run my firm? Who’s going to feed my cat and watch my house?”

  “I’m going to pay your paralegal to run your firm, and you can get your boyfriend to watch your house and feed your…cat.” He paused. “I don’t like the way that sounds. I would rather feed your cat myself.”

  She smiled and almost laughed. This was her opportunity to drive him back to the dating subject. “I don’t really have a boyfriend. I sort of broke it off with Louis when I caught him at the movies with his ex-wife.”

  “Well, we’ll get the paralegal to watch the house — to live in your house until you return. But this has to happen.”

  “Fine.” She sighed. “How do I pack for a possible month-long trip?”

  “Pack very lightly. We can afford to purchase everything we’ll need when we get there. And I’ll also need for you to get to know me as Larry Grover. That’s the name I use whenever I travel by flight.”

  Janet rubbed her forehead. “An accessory to identity fraud.”