Improper Influence

by Melissa F. Miller

  “Yes, Sonny. That’s what I’m referring to,” she forced out between clenched teeth.

  “Well, let me tell you. I about choked on my cereal. It was news to me that there’s a connection between Champion Fuel and the dead women who are piling up in my shop.”

  “He didn’t contact you directly?”

  “I am speaking English, aren’t I?”

  That was debatable, she thought bitterly, although she noted that his Pittsburgh accent hadn’t made an appearance yet.

  “Just confirming, sir. Have you checked with your press officer and the assistant city attorney assigned to matters involving your office—he didn’t reach out to anyone?”

  “I spoke to both of them. No one’s heard a peep from Bodhi. We were all blindsided.”

  Blindsided. Ambushed. Trapped. They all summed up her feelings. She pushed her rage away and focused on controlling Sonny.

  “I’ll take care of Dr. King. You just make sure everyone in your office refers the media to my office. I’m sure neither of us wants to see your office under the microscope.” The veiled remark was as close as she wanted to come to a reference to the Duquesne job in front of Saul.

  “Of course not.”

  “Good. Then let me handle the press. We need to have a consistent message.”

  “We need a little more than that, don’t you think?”

  “Such as?”

  “Such as a reaction, a response to his charges. I don’t know if you saw his interview, but he made some pretty specific allegations about the quality of the herbal ingredients Better Life Beverages scrounged up to use in that Champion Fuel stuff. If he’s right, and the drink caused the myocarditis in all five women, we have a real public health crisis on our hands.”

  “Wait, back up. When you say ‘scrounging up,’ do you mean he publicly accused Better Life of deliberately sourcing substandard herbal ingredients?”

  “That’s exactly what I mean.”

  “In that case, we won’t have to take care of Dr. King. The civil lawyers are going to destroy him.”

  A weight lifted off her chest. Fred’s attorneys would pounce on King.

  She met Saul’s gaze and gave him an encouraging smile. He still looked like he was about to puke.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  Naya laughed and aimed a light punch at Leo’s shoulder.

  “One more time?”

  He shook his head, but then a grin spread across his face.

  “Okay, one more.”

  She hit the replay button and the conference room DVR obligingly restarted Maisy’s interview with Bodhi and Sasha.

  “Maisy’s good,” Leo observed, as the reporter’s solemn blue eyes stared out from the screen and she advised viewers that a forensic pathologist who had recently worked for the City of Pittsburgh Medical Examiner’s Office had some shocking revelations about a popular sports beverage and its connection to a slew of deaths in healthy young women.

  “Mmm-hmm,” Naya agreed. “Bodhi came off really good, too. He was very credible. He’s so low key; it makes him seem more believable, somehow.”

  The camera cut to Bodhi. He sat next to Sasha and listened to Maisy’s first question. His smooth, relaxed face was somber and calm. Like a placid lake, Leo thought.

  Bodhi leaned forward and his eyes sparked with intensity as he carefully, step by step, walked the audience through the events that he and Sasha believed had led to the current public health crisis in Pittsburgh: Better Life’s rapid expansion; its insatiable need for wild red ginseng; its suppliers’ willingness to sacrifice quality to meet that need; and, most shocking of all, the medical examiner’s refusal to conduct a field investigation when it appeared that Pittsburgh was the site of a cluster of unexplained myocarditis deaths.

  “And you raised your suspicion that these young women formed a death cluster with the Chief Medical Examiner personally, isn’t that correct, Dr. King?” Maisy asked.

  “That’s correct.”

  “Dr. Jackson didn’t share your concerns?”

  Bodhi’s level gaze showed the barest hint of disdain for his former boss. “Dr. Jackson assured me that he did not believe the evidence showed the deaths were connected to one another.”

  “You weren’t able to convince him?”

  “Unfortunately, I was placed on leave and ultimately terminated within days of having raised the issue. I didn’t really have a chance to bring him around to my view.”

  “The draft complaint that I had the opportunity to review is in response to your firing, isn’t it?”

  Sasha fielded this question, even though Maisy had directed it to Bodhi.

  She stared directly into the camera, ire sparking in her deep green eyes. Her voice was strong but honeyed.

  “As Dr. King’s attorney, I’d like to respond to that.”

  Maisy smiled amiably and nodded her encouragement.

  Sasha put a hand on Bodhi’s forearm in a trial lawyer’s show of support and continued. “Dr. King’s complaint does arise out of the circumstances of his termination, but only tangentially. He’s not interested in being reinstated to his position or even in being compensated. So, in that sense, this isn’t a typical employment law issue. Dr. King simply couldn’t sit by and watch more young women unwittingly sign their own death certificates by drinking a health drink.”

  She paused and let that little irony sink in.

  “Dang, she’s good,” Naya remarked.

  Leo felt his chest swell with pride. She was good. Collected, persuasive, smart—and, on top of it all, somehow, she looked perfectly rested and at ease despite the fact that she’d been awake for twenty-nine hours and counting when the interview had been taped.

  “Yeah, she sure doesn’t let her nerves—”

  “—Shh, here it comes.” Naya shushed him as, on the screen, Sasha moved in for the kill.

  “Dr. King’s lawsuit alleges that he was fired to cover up a pervasive, coordinated effort to improperly influence the work of Pittsburgh’s medical examiners—in particular, the formal autopsy reports issued by forensic pathologists in their official capacity.”

  “That’s quite an accusation, Ms. McCandless,” Maisy said.

  “Yes. It is. And we don’t make it lightly. Not only do we believe that certain business interests are willing to do whatever it takes to keep a lid on the truth about the recent myocarditis deaths, we also believe that officials in the highest levels of City government are willing to use their offices to assist in covering up the truth.”

  Maisy and Sasha exchanged a long look.

  “Do you believe the murder of Stone Fredericks, Vice President of Better Life Beverages last week in Fox Chapel, is related?”

  Sasha’s expression was unreadable, even to Leo.

  Finally she said, “You’d have to ask the police about that. What Dr. King and I do know is that responsibility for the deaths of five young women rests with Mayor Closky. Dr. King intends to file his complaint so that the families of Nina Penrose, Christa Taylor, Jasmine Courtland, Mia Martinez, and Cherise Jordan get the answers they deserve. And, we hope, to prevent any more avoidable deaths.”

  Sasha said the names of the dead young women slowly, giving each the full measure of her attention. In a masterful touch, a file photo of each woman with her date of birth and date of death typed across the bottom filled the screen, one fading into the next.

  The camera came back to the interview. Maisy, Sasha, and Bodhi sat motionless and silent for a long moment before Maisy broke the spell and did her wrap up.

  He and Naya had watched the piece three times, and even on the third viewing, the hair on his arms stood up when Sasha listed the names of the dead women. It might have been the most effective closing argument she’d ever delivered, and she was nowhere near a courtroom.

  Naya switched off the television.

  “You want to grab some lunch? Or should we wait and see if Sasha and Bodhi turn up?” she asked.

  He hoped Sasha was at the condo catc
hing a nap. He checked his watch. He had time for a sandwich before he drove out to Better Life Beverages’ headquarters to chat with Fred.

  “Yeah, let’s eat. I’m sure Sasha is crashed out. Jake’s?”

  She reached for her purse just as the telephone bleated.

  She pulled it close and checked the display.

  “That’s the number for the Prescott switchboard,” she said, raising an eyebrow.

  “It could be Will calling to congratulation Sasha.”

  “We’ll see.” She depressed the speaker button. “Law Offices of Sasha McCandless. May I help you?”

  “Naya—is that you?” an agitated male voice boomed from the speaker.

  “Yes. Who’s this?”

  “This is Garrett English. Get me Sasha.”

  “I’m afraid Sasha isn’t in, Mr. English. May I take a message or offer you voicemail?” Naya rolled her eyes vigorously at his brusque tone, but Leo was impressed to see that her voice stayed pleasant.

  “You tell her she should be proud of herself. Her little television appearance just put your legal career in the crapper before it even started. Is she crazy? Herbal Attitudes is livid. She’ll be lucky if we don’t sue her and that cracked-out Buddhist for slander!”

  Leo didn’t know what Garrett English looked like, but based on the strained shouting coming from the telephone, he pictured a red-faced man, veins bulging in his neck, spittle flying.

  Naya just smiled slyly.

  “Okay, got it. Do you want me to read that back to you, Mr. English?”

  “You think this is funny? You’re as delusional as she is. I’m going to ... going to ...” he sputtered.

  “Going to barf? Better make sure you don’t hit any partners’ shoes this time, Garrett. I don’t think your career could take the hit.”

  She ended the call before he could respond and grabbed the purse she’d abandoned to answer the phone.

  “Come on. Let’s go get some food.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  Maisy was still buzzing from the interview and the rush of attention that been pouring in ever since CNN had aired it. Her agent had sent her a bottle of champagne, and she was trying valiantly to get Sasha and Bodhi to pop the cork with her.

  “Come on, y’all! We need to celebrate.” She bounced around Sasha’s kitchen on her bare feet, shaking the bottle as she did so.

  Bodhi watched her with a bemused smile. Sasha clutched her coffee mug with both hands and stifled a yawn.

  “Maisy, honey, I’m really excited for you. Honest. But it’s only noon. At some point I probably need to actually file the complaint. And I’ve been awake forever. Let me catch a nap and then I’ll come find you.”

  Maisy waved a hand, dismissing Sasha.

  “Fine. You’re a party pooper. How ‘bout you, Bodhi?”

  “You know, the way you’re dancing around with that, it’s going to explode when you open it. And, to be honest, I don’t share your sense of victory.”

  That earned him a steely glare from Maisy.

  He hurried to add, “Yet.”

  “What is wrong with you two? Stores all over town are already pulling Champion Fuel from their shelves. Bars are restaurants are refusing to serve it. Nobody’s waiting for the city to take care of the problem—they’re taking their own precautions. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

  “Of course. And I’m grateful, very grateful, to you for helping me get the word out. I just can’t find it within me to feel festive, thinking of the lives that have already been lost.”

  Maisy’s face fell. Sasha could tell her friend felt reproached. But she tended to agree with Bodhi on this one. Plus, she was exhausted.

  “Maisy, you did good. I love you. Why don’t you call up the date we ruined last night and ask him to share the bubbly with you to make up?”

  That idea seemed to appeal to Maisy, and her megawatt smile returned.

  “Oh, be that way. I’ll see you later.”

  She leaned in and enveloped Sasha in a perfumed hug then waggled her fingers in a goodbye to Bodhi. She let herself out, and the condo fell quiet.

  Sasha and Bodhi looked at each other for a silent moment. He spoke first.

  “She has a good heart.”

  “I know.”

  “I just ... this isn’t over, right?”

  She nodded. “Not by a long shot.”

  She wasn’t sure what the city’s next move would be, but she doubted it would be to capitulate. Human nature being what it was, whoever was behind the attacks on Bodhi and the cover up wasn’t going to just give up. His personal safety might no longer be an issue, but a countersuit was a strong possibility. Better Life Beverages, Herbal Attitudes, or both were likely busy preparing defamation or commercial disparagements actions at the moment.

  Yay, more briefs.

  He cocked his head and gave her a puzzled look. “Do you think I’m still in danger? Doesn’t having gone public serve to protect me? Someone was trying to keep me from piecing together the full picture and telling people. But, it’s too late. The damage, from their perspective, is already done.”

  “It’s true they can’t silence you now. But it’s a little early to assume that they—whoever they are—are going to be sanguine about that. Doesn’t Buddhism recognize the human capacity for revenge?”

  “Of course. But a Buddhist would never seek revenge. Karma will take care of it.”

  Right. Karma. Of course.

  She nodded and slowly dug around in her overtired brain for a way to make him understand. “Okay, I’m pretty sure that it’s almost over, one way or another. But, for now, out of an abundance of caution, it would probably be a good idea if you don’t go back to your house just yet.”

  His shoulders fell. “Okay.”

  “How about some lunch? I’m no Connelly, but I can throw together a salad or something.”

  “You’re very kind, but you must be running on fumes by now. Why don’t you get some sleep and I’ll make us lunch. It’ll be ready when you wake up.”

  He didn’t have to ask twice.

  “That’d be great. I could use a power nap.”

  She scooped up Java and started for the stairs.

  Her advice to Bodhi applied equally to herself, she realized. She needed to stay sharp until the drama played out. Connelly was fond of telling her sleep was a weapon. And she could use all the weapons at her disposal right about now.

  She flopped onto the bed and closed her dry, burning eyes. She listened to the cat’s rhythmic breathing and tried to drive out the thoughts of what might happen next. She fell asleep within minutes.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  Bodhi’s cell phone chimed softly. He marked his place in his book and hurried to grab the phone before the noise woke Sasha.

  He knew she must be sleeping. The apartment had a stillness to it.

  The phone displayed a familiar number, but he couldn’t place it. He hesitated with his forefinger over the screen. He’d been sending most of his calls to voicemail. He’d been amazed by how quickly his private cell phone number had made its way into the hands of the media. Within minutes of the interview airing, he’d been bombarded by calls from journalists, talk show hosts, even a literary agent who just knew there was a bestseller lurking inside him.

  After the fourth call, he’d stopped answering calls from numbers he didn’t recognize. But this one was a local call.

  He exhaled.

  “Hello?”

  “Bodhi?” a shaky female voice replied.

  Cora Willham.

  “Yes. Mrs. Willham, is everything okay?”

  The uncertainty vanished from her voice, replaced by mild indignation.

  “I should be the one asking you that. You’ve disappeared. I haven’t seen you in days, young man. Then this morning, I’m having my hair done at Jean’s and whose face pops up on the television? You’ve lost your job? And, Bodhi, you need a haircut.”

  He laughed. It felt good to laugh, to be on the receivin
g end of his neighbor’s concern over something mundane and normal.

  “Duly noted. Did you need something?”

  Her voice dropped. “You’ve had some visitors. I didn’t think anything of it, of course, since you didn’t see fit to tell me what’s been going on. But, given all the news ... well, wherever you are, you might want to stay there for a spell.”

  The illusion of normalcy was gone.

  “No one’s bothered you, have they?”

  “Aside from tramping through my garden to try and peek through your windows, you mean?” she sniffed. “I should have called the police. I didn’t realize, not until I came home today and saw a man trying to pry open your kitchen window.”

  “I’m sure it was just—a friend, that’s all.”

  A heavy silence passed between them, as they both considered his lie.

  “Well, some friend he is. I rattled my trashcan lid near the door and he lit off like a rabbit.”

  He continued, “Please don’t answer your door, though, if any more friends come around looking for me. Okay?”

  “I can take care of myself, Bodhi. Any of your friends give me a problem, and they’ll find themselves on the business end of Bud’s old Smith & Wesson.”

  He didn’t care for the image of his elderly neighbor wielding a gun.

  “Mrs. Willham—”

  “Oh, pipe down. I’m not going to go looking for any trouble. But, you keep your head on a swivel, you hear me?”

  Bodhi reflected that Sasha would love Mrs. Willham.

  “Yes, ma’am. I will.”

  “Good. Now I have to go. The Ladies’ Auxiliary is meeting. But, one more thing.”

  “Yes?”

  Her voice softened. “I’m proud of you.”

  She ended the call before he could respond. He was surprised to find that his eyes were damp.

  He lowered himself to the floor, in lotus position, sat with that feeling for a long while. And then he turned his mind to the reason for Mrs. Willham’s call.