#SandyBottom

by Alexi Venice

  She raised her eyebrows. “That isn’t the law. Who does Grady think he is?”

  “He’s the judge, and it’s now the law of this case,” Jeremy said, taking an official tone.

  She regarded him, noticing for the first time his opaque, difficult-to-read, eyes. Maybe he would be more comfortable preparing the dead for burial.

  “Are you going to appeal the ruling?” she asked.

  “I don’t see a basis.”

  She regrouped and shifted in her chair. “Well, you’re a fine trial attorney. I’m sure you’ll get a conviction.”

  “I plan to.” He removed a sheet of paper from the file with the case caption written at the top— State of California v. Vincent Voss . “I just need you to sign this Substitution of Counsel, so I’m the new prosecutor of record.” He slid it over to her and removed a pen from his pocket, handing it to her.

  She pretended like resigning as lead prosecutor was a normal, everyday experience, but her heart punched her ribs. After she signed, she asked, “What else would you like to discuss? How are the staff?”

  “I don’t have anything else on my agenda,” he said, not addressing her last question.

  She thought her ears had betrayed her. In the past, when she was away for any length of time, Jeremy always had a full of agenda of cases and staff issues that needed attention. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, but Ryan Delmastro and Mayor Woo asked if they could join us. I’ll let them know we’re ready.” He removed his cell phone from his pocket and texted.

  He’s texting with the Chief of Police and Mayor? she thought but didn’t say. She could stomach meeting with Ryan—given what they had weathered together in the last month—but she wasn’t ready to see Woo after the pic of Roxy had dropped. “What are we meeting about?”

  “I’m not sure. They wanted to discuss some business, and since you’re here meeting with me, they thought it would be convenient, so you wouldn’t have to make a special trip…to meet with them…about whatever they said—”

  He’s rambling, but before she could quiz him, Ryan and Woo entered Jeremy’s office.

  Jeremy and Amanda rose.

  “Amanda!” Ryan said, opening his arms for a light hug. “How are you?”

  “Fine,” she said. “Better than when you last saw me.”

  “Good to hear.” He released her, so she could shake Woo’s hand.

  “Mayor Woo.”

  “Ms. Hawthorne.” His rodent eyes darted away when she looked at him.

  “Shall we sit?” Jeremy suggested.

  They all sat. An uncomfortable silence hovered around them, and some throat clearing occurred. Amanda looked at each one of them, detecting nerves. Ryan tried to smile but his lips didn’t make it past a horizontal line.

  “Well, I called this meeting, so I’ll start,” Woo said.

  Jeremy pushed his chair back a few inches, physically distancing himself. She could picture him now, selling a coffin.

  Woo’s imperious, hungry eyes focused on her. “The recent release of your nude photos has compromised the integrity of this office.”

  Oh fuck. Here we go. She instinctively prepared to fight, even though part of her had expected him to say something like this—just not so soon—and certainly not in a surprise meeting where she felt ambushed. “I already apologized and issued a statement—”

  He held up a hand to cut her off. “I know, and I applaud you, Amanda. That isn’t the point. The damage has already been done, not only tarnishing your reputation, but also calling into question the ethics of one of our city’s most important civil servants—that of the District Attorney.”

  “Wait just a minute—”

  He spoke over her. “A special meeting of the San Francisco Board of Supervisors was held yesterday in which they reviewed my report on the matter. The Board unanimously voted to put you on indefinite administrative leave, without pay or benefits, until the significance of your conduct could be assessed.”

  “What the fu—”

  Ryan spoke over her this time. “Now, Amanda, don’t say something you’ll regret. I think this is a good move for your career—remove you from the spotlight and let the dust settle. There’s too much negative attention and distrust smoldering right now with the photos, and your involvement in the two shootings—”

  She slapped her hand on the table. “Are you telling me—with all the water I’ve carried for both of you—that you’re effectively firing me from my job? For fucking doing my job?”

  “You haven’t been fired,” Woo said, his voice rising to meet her angry volume. “You’re on admin leave. The Board is reviewing your conduct at this time, which might take a few weeks. Ultimately, it has the power to reinstate you or recommend impeachment to the state legislature.”

  Fire flew from Amanda’s eyes. “Impeachment?! That sounds even worse than getting fired!”

  “Hey now,” Ryan said, “let’s keep a cool head about this. Look at the situation from our perspective. The Eddy Valentine shooting on the beach, alone, negatively impacted law enforcement, but I thought we could survive it as a one-time incident. Then, you hiring his daughter, getting in a fight with her, Tommy shooting her in your office—”

  “I don’t know how the hell she got in here!” Amanda yelled.

  “Regardless, she did,” Ryan said in an even tone, “only to be killed in your office. If you take a step back and look at it objectively, that’s pretty scandalous for a DA. Add to that your being in Vincent Voss’ office when Montiago fell to her death, and it starts to raise some questions about how we do business around here. The release of the photos of you nude, then with the MI-6 agent in bed, only served to exacerbate the rumors. All the Board of Supervisors is asking for is some time—”

  “Don’t take a patriarchal tone with me, Ryan. You, of all people, should be grateful as hell for what I’ve done.” She seared him with her flaming eyes. “Do I have to remind you that you’re the one who asked Tommy and me to investigate the Jared Carlisle murder because you were ‘friends’ with Kara Montiago?” She emphasized friends but didn’t use air quotes out of respect, assuming the other two men had no idea that he and Montiago had a daughter together.

  Ryan coolly assessed her, his Irish obduracy unwavering. “My back is up against the wall on this, Amanda. I wish I could go to bat for you, but the Board of Supervisors is beyond my influence. I’m here because Mayor Woo asked me to be.”

  “Oh bullshit, Ryan! Don’t pull that reptilian political-speak on me. I see what’s happening here, and I’m holding both of you accountable.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Woo asked.

  She leaned in, so she was mere inches from Woo’s weaselly face. “I’m holding you responsible for taking me out, Woo. I hope it was worth it because you’re going down with me.”

  “Is that some kind of threat?” he asked. “In front of the Chief of Police and interim District Attorney?”

  She whipped her head around to Jeremy. “Congratulations, Jeremy. Well played.”

  He held up both hands in silence, too smart speak.

  You belong with corpses for all the spark running through your lifeless body.

  “Amanda, don’t say anything stupid now,” Ryan said.

  “Again, don’t use a fucking parent voice on me, Ryan. I’m not your 17-year-old daughter. ” She delivered the killer line, intentionally reminding him that she held that card and could play it at any time.

  He slowly raised his reddish grey eyebrows, beads of sweat forming on his balding forehead.

  Accepting his anxiety as a temporary victory, she pushed away from the table, grabbed her coat and bag, and headed for the door.

  “Ah, Amanda,” Ryan said, holding out his hand, “your official ID and entry badge, please.”

  “Of course.” She dug them out of her bag and slapped them onto his outstretched palm as hard as she could. “Tell the Board they can stop their investigation. I quit.”

  Woo couldn’t hold back a
victory smile.

  The ringing in her ears reached a fever pitch, as she quickly strode through the cubicle farm and exited her once-loyal kingdom. Again, no one looked up. They all must have heard. She shrugged on her trench coat while storming down the deathly green hallway and ran down the back stairwell, bursting through the metal door to an onslaught of cold rain.

  Tumbling down the steps and rolling her left ankle, she hobbled through the parking lot over the slick pavement. The stab of pain traveled up her leg, adding to the knife slice through her brain and the sucker punch to her gut.

  She got into her car, where she sat for a second, watching the rain pelt the windshield. She finally started the engine and called her father, as she roared out of the lot.

  “Hi honey. What can I do for you?” he asked.

  “They fired me!” Her voice hitched.

  “Who?”

  “Ryan Delmastro and Mayo Woo!”

  “They can’t do that,” he said. “You’re an elected official.”

  “They found a way.”

  “Tell me the entire story,” he said.

  She did, including what she said to Ryan about not being his 17-year-old daughter.

  “Do you want me to release the hounds on Chief Delmastro and Mayor Woo?”

  “Yes. Leak that Ryan fathered a daughter out of wedlock with Kara Montiago and the video you have of Woo visiting X-rated massage parlors.”

  “You’re certain?” he asked. “They’ll both know the leaks came from you in retaliation.”

  She passed a woman who was texting while driving. “Set down your phone and drive, you dumb fuck.”

  “Who are you talking to?” he asked.

  “Another driver,” she said to Jack. “Bourgie Becky in her Cadillac Escalade thinks she can text and drive at the same time.” Amanda flipped off Becky as she passed her.

  “Just because you’re angry, let’s not drive angry,” he said. “Take a deep breath.”

  She did. “Thanks Daddy.”

  “I’m happy to leak both of those stories, but I think we should wait 24 hours. Why don’t you sleep on it and call me tomorrow morning, okay?”

  “Fine. I guess you’re right. I’ll call you on my way to the airport.”

  “Good girl. Hang in there. It will get better. I promise.”

  “I hope so.”

  “Look on the bright side.” He said in the tone he reserved for drama. “You just left a job you were outgrowing. Who knows what opportunities are ahead of you?”

  “Thanks. I’ll try to stay optimistic.”

  “That’s my girl.”

  A few hours later, soaked to the bone, she arrived home after completing her errands for wine, salami and bread. Jen would be proud , she thought. I hope the Dawson clan appreciates the sacrifice I made.

  She boxed up the contents and set them by the kitchen door, so she wouldn’t forget them on her way out the next morning. Later, while upstairs packing for her trip, her phone screen flashed with a text from Roxy. Roxy! Her hands trembled so badly she thought she would drop her phone.

  Cradling her phone, she lowered herself to the edge of the bed and grabbed a soft throw, draping it around her shoulders while setting her thumbprint on the home button.

  Roxy wrote, Heard you got sacked. Get pissed and get over it. My team and I need someone like you working for Catholics In Action.

  The San Andreas fault line opened, swallowing Amanda whole. She knows already? Fuck, her intel is good. The CIA? Roxy wants me to work for her at the CIA?

  Amanda replied, Your team?

  I was promoted. I run several teams now. I still do some field work, but I mostly fly around managing people deployed in hot spots around the globe. I want you on my team. You’d need some training, but you’ve got natural skills, a bloody brilliant mind, and enough mettle for both of us.

  Amanda lay back on the bed with a sigh, pulling the soft fabric tighter across her chest. She stared blankly at the ceiling fan going ‘round and ‘round. Roxy wants me to work for her at the CIA. That’s ludicrous. Ridiculous. Fantasy. My relationship with Jen would never survive it. Although Jen dropped me…

  She lay still for several minutes, running scenarios through her mind in which she traveled, spied, and gathered information at Roxy’s behest. A life of deception. Was she capable? Was she willing to give up the love of a woman like Jen to enter a world of shadowy, duplicitous characters—like Roxy?

  She raised her phone to her face and texted Roxy. Haha. No thanks.

  Eighteen

  Sandy Lake

  Monday

  Her knees pulled to her chest, Jen sat wrapped in a soft quilt, cradling a cup of coffee on the lakeside screen porch. The rising sun shimmered off the lake, warming the fresh, damp air. Enjoying her quiet time alone, she thought about Amanda’s random text the day prior and pulled it up on her phone. I channeled my inner Jen today and went for a run on the beach. I can see why you run, and, more importantly, I understand why you ran. I would love to run with you someday.

  Duh, Jen wanted to text back, I run because I seek balance in my life, but I ran from you because you’re a philandering cheat. Asshat.

  Jen’s scorned view was chillingly accurate—Amanda was sexually profligate and couldn’t be trusted to be loyal. It was now public information. Jen resented the hell out of the fact that she loved Amanda. Truly. Deeply. Purely. Naively. Fuck. Only a fool would remain with a partner so selfish and reckless. Jen considered replying to Amanda’s text with her trenchant analysis, but she wouldn’t do that because she didn’t have it in her to be cruel.

  She was sure that Amanda was wounded, and worse, suffering from neglect, because if there was one thing Amanda needed, it was constant adoration and attention. Aside from all that, Amanda’s text deserved the common courtesy of a reply, so Jen carefully typed, trying to strike a tone of friendliness without fostering false hopes of a reconciliation: Can’t picture you running. Hope it helps. We’ve been playing on the beach a lot. Kristin is having a good time. #sandybottom

  There. A friendly update. That missive complete, Jen turned her astute mind to matters of more importance, like sending an email to Dr. Olson that she was interested in touring his clinic in Eau Claire. After she dispatched that message, she drank more coffee and reclined in her chair, appreciating the beauty of the lake and the sounds of the waterfowl stirring to life. The sandhill cranes especially amused her with their prehistoric, raspy bugle, like a goose who had smoked and sung all night in a raucous band.

  She heard rustling in the kitchen, then Tommy walked into the porch with a large mug of coffee. “Hey.”

  Jen turned her phone over on the wide arm of her chair. “Good morning. Sleep well?”

  “Better than ever. It’s so quiet here compared to the city. Took me a few nights to get used to the sounds of frogs bleating and other creatures of the night, but now they lull me right to sleep.”

  “The quintessential city boy is turning into a Northwoods man?” she asked.

  “I wouldn’t go that far.” He set down his mug and reached his arms overhead, pulling on each wrist to stretch one side then the other. He winced as his right shoulder flexed.

  “Is your arm sore?” she asked.

  “Yeah. I think I’ve been babying it too much. The skin feels really tight across my deltoid. I need to loosen up, get working again. Maybe I’ll help Roger chop some wood today.”

  Jen’s eyebrows inched up. Tommy chop wood? “Let me have a look.” She set her cup down and scooted to his side, lifting his sleeve and examining the wound. The dissolvable stitches that Lane Wallace had sutured were holding the jagged bullet abrasion closed nicely. The wound wasn’t red, but the skin was a little dry. “Let me get some antibacterial ointment.”

  “That’d be great,” he said.

  She returned a few minutes later with a fresh cup of coffee and a tube of ointment. Tommy man-moaned as she dabbed the ointment into his stitches and massaged some into the surrounding area. “Does
that hurt?”

  “Not bad.” He raised his arm, rotating his elbow and working his shoulder again. “Feels a lot better.”

  “I’ll leave the tube with you. Apply some throughout the day, so your wound doesn’t dry out.”

  “Would you do it for me?” he asked. “You’re so good at it.”

  “I’d love to, but I probably won’t be here today.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “I offered to drive down to Eau Claire to meet with Dr. Olson and tour his clinic.”

  “What?” His voice cracked. “You’re serious about that?”

  “Curious is more like it.” She casually sipped her coffee, trying to convey nonchalance.

  “Is this a formal interview?”

  “I don’t think so,” she said. “I haven’t given them my CV or references or anything like that.”

  He studied the lake, a light haze on the surface dissipating as the body of water warmed to the early sun. “I never thought we’d have to discuss how to raise Kristin if we lived in different states. Hell, I thought it was a big deal for you to live in the Sunset District and me in North Beach.” He ran his hand through his hair. “I have no idea how we’d manage.”

  “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

  “If you’re going on a job interview, obviously you’re serious about moving back.”

  “I haven’t even heard from Dr. Olson. I have no idea if he wants me to visit or not.” She twisted her blonde strands into a loose bun that immediately untwisted, cascading down her nape.

  “Should I be looking for a job in this Eau Claire town too?”

  She smiled. “I don’t think it’s your style.”

  “Why? Just because it’s named after a pastry, does that make it some sort of utopia without murders or mayhem?”

  She shook her head at the reference then laughed. “It isn’t named after the French pasty, Éclair. Different spelling and pronunciation. Eau Claire means ‘clear water’ in French.”

  “I like clear water. Why can’t I work there?”

  “You could, but you’d be bored out of your skull. I’m sure Eau Claire has its share of crime, and maybe even a murder once in a while, but, on a ten-point scale of detective excitement, I’d guess it’s about a two.”