Trifecta

by Pam Richter

  "So you would consider living there?"

  "I hadn't thought of that."

  "Well, you're going to have to," Alexander said, "if you marry the guy."

  Julia thought Alexander was looking at her peculiarly. "What's wrong?"

  "I don't know how you even survive on the amounts you eat, and you just finished all those cookies."

  "Oh." Julia looked down at the empty plate in surprise. She hadn't even noticed she was eating them.

  "I know you love Italian food, but you ate all the pasta and veal, and had two servings of bread and salad. I've never seen you eat like that."

  "I've been awfully hungry, recently. Sleepy too. I guess it was all the recent trauma."

  "You should pamper yourself more, Julia. You've always worked much too hard."

  When Julia led Alexander to the door she suddenly thought there might be another reason for the change Alexander had seen. It would account for her recent enormous appetite and the peculiar sleepiness. She remembered in the heat of passion telling Robin not to leave her, that she couldn't stand it if he left her now.

  CHAPTER 23

  Julia sat alone and motionless on the black, padded examining table which was covered with sterile paper. The room was small, with antiseptic white walls. She was practically biting her fingernails in anticipation of the test result. There was a slight tremor running through her body and she held one hand up and watched it shake slightly. It was silly to be so nervous, but she couldn't help it.

  Dr. Robarts walked briskly into the room. "The rabbit died, Julia."

  She gazed at the doctor who had brought her into this world. He had white hair now, and pudgy pink jowls, a long mournful face, and he was very kind. Julia loved him a lot. He had seen her through the mumps, measles, chicken-pox and a broken arm. Later he had been her gynecologist when she insisted she wouldn't go to any other doctor.

  "I thought so," Julia said.

  Dr. Robarts sighed, "There are alternatives, you know. It's not a procedure I really do, but I know several excellent surgeons. You're only a few weeks along." He shook his head sadly, then stood gazing at her for a few moments. "You don't seem surprised. Or very unhappy."

  She had been holding her breath. Finally Julia smiled, "Because I want this baby more than anything in the whole world."

  He looked at her searchingly, "You are absolutely certain?"

  Julia couldn't stop smiling and nodding at him. Yes, she wanted to scream. I want this baby very, very much.

  "Because I usually tell young women that if they're not ready, it's not fair to bring a child into the world. It's an awesome responsibility. And in your case, young lady, you will have to tell Charlotte, sooner or later, and that will probably be worse than the labor pains."

  Julia burst into a fit of giggles. He was absolutely right, but she was so happy she didn't even care. It was so exciting. She had a live little person inside her right now. It was like a miracle had been visited upon her and she could hardly wait to feel tiny swimming movements separate from her own and know it was really a glorious fact.

  "I can afford to give this child everything in the world," Julia said, trying to appear sober and reasonable as she sat, looking sincerely at her doctor, in the silly crinkly paper gown she had worn for the medical exam. "I work only when I want to. I have the time and the money. I want this child."

  "Ideally, you could also marry the father, Julia," Dr. Robarts said, trying to frown seriously into her happily smiling face and failing when he saw the joy this baby would bring to her. He really didn't care about tradition anyway, just what was best for his patient. He, too, was mourning the death of Julia's brother.

  "I'm hardly a poor, destitute, unwed mother, Dr. Robarts. Statistically, most marriages don't work out and the women end up caring for the baby. But this child won't have to go through the trauma of losing a father."

  "Did you do it on purpose?" Dr. Robarts asked. "Find the ideal man? You seem so sure you don't want to marry the father, and yet you do want the baby."

  "It wasn't planned. But the father is strong, healthy and very intelligent." Julia smiled when she said, "Quite a nice male specimen, in fact. I feel good about his being the sire, in a genetic sense, even though I would never marry him. My feelings about him certainly won't spill over onto an innocent little baby."

  "Don't think ill of me. I just wanted to make sure," Dr. Robarts apologized.

  "I could never think anything negative about you," Julia said. She felt like throwing her arms around Dr. Robarts and hugging him for giving her this delightful news. "Now, tell me about what to eat, special vitamins, how much to exercise, and how to live for the next seven months. I want to do everything right."

  "You always were an overachiever," Dr. Robarts said, smiling at her seriousness about the job she saw ahead of her; producing a healthy and perfect baby.

  "This is the most important thing that's ever happened to me," Julia exclaimed. "I have to do it right."

  The doctor grinned at her enthusiasm and went into his well rehearsed speech for newly pregnant women.

  Julia left the medical office with the quiet, happy feeling that she had a wonderful secret deep inside. She looked around the hallway carefully, noting the long corridor was perfectly empty. She skipped in great, long ecstatic hops all the way to the elevator. Not a very sophisticated gait for an expectant mother, but she was so thrilled she felt she would burst if she didn't express it in some physical manner. As she waited for the elevator she noted that she was starving. It was like a big empty well had opened inside her, demanding to be filled. That made her happy, too. She could hardly wait to go to the store and get some food to fill the cravings. She wanted pickles, ice cream, matza ball soup and a greasy hamburger with all the trimmings. Plus French fries, of course. Dr. Robarts had said she was a little too thin. Well, she was going to gain a mountain of weight, right in front of her, and she couldn't wait.

  Julia was laden down with gourmet treats for herself when she fumbled in her handbag for the keys to her apartment. Finally, she put down one grocery bag and opened the door, still holding another full bag. Julia knew she bought too much, that it had been a mistake to shop for food when she was starving, but she didn't care. This baby was going to be well nourished before it came into the world.

  As Julia staggered into the apartment she put the bag she was holding on the marble floor and turned to get the other one. But something was terribly wrong. She had seen it as she turned, in one swift moment, like a nightmare barely glimpsed in the light of day.

  Julia turned back and looked down the entrance hallway into the living room. She was so horrified she dropped the bag, stepped around it and walked slowly down the long hallway toward the bright front room. She was aware of thinking that she should run and call the police. One should not walk into an unknown situation, but she was so appalled she had to see the devastation herself, first.

  All her beautiful Boston ferns, which had been hanging from the ceiling in the corners of the living room had been torn down and dirt and leaves were strewn about on the beige carpeting and over her furnishings. The large delicate painting over the couch had been ripped from the wall and was on top of her broken glass cocktail table. Her graceful and fragile chairs were now splintered, the cushion's beautiful brocade material slashed so that the stuffing showed. Even her bright red draperies had been ripped from around the windows. It looked like blood was smeared on the walls.

  Julia ran to the computer, which was sitting on a desk by the large front windows facing the street. Already she could see that the screen had been smashed. It looked like the whole computer was ruined. Hit by something heavy and blunt so that the metal casing was dented so thoroughly that she knew it was only a useless pile of junk now. The manuscript pages were also torn and strewn about as though a hurricane had blown through the apartment.

  Julia went slowly into the kitchen. All the cabinets had been opened and everything was thrown on the floor. She crunched over bro
ken glass and realized she was crying. Then she turned and went to the bathroom. It was a mess, too. The large mirror above the sink was cracked, with splinters of glass all over the sink and the floor. Her heart was beating wildly, and she thought, numbly, that she shouldn't get so upset. It was bad for the baby.

  Finally, Julia walked tentatively into the bedroom. It looked untouched and she breathed a deep sigh of relief, until she looked at the bed. In the middle of her blue satin quilt was the bloody carcass of a very small animal.

  Julia ran into the bathroom and knelt down by the toilet in case she was going to be sick. Her mind told her a little vomit on top of everything else was not a big deal in this mess.

  As she looked down she noticed even the toilet seat had been cracked. This finally brought her to her senses and she started getting angry. They must have used baseball bats.

  She got up from her kneeling position and walked resolutely to the front door and closed it. There was no doubt in her mind she was alone. Whoever had caused this destruction was long gone.

  Then she went into her bedroom, averting her gaze from the tiny dead thing on the bed, and knelt down in the corner of her room. She pulled up the edge of the carpet and looked at her floor safe. It seemed untouched. She quickly spun the dial and peered down inside. All of her jewelry was there, in small silk pouches. And, most important to her right now, the computer discs with all the backed up material that she stored there every night. The manuscript about Quijada.

  Julia kept her really valuable cameras in the safe. She pulled a camera out and put the strap around her neck. When she stood up, she started taking pictures of each room in her house, being very careful not to touch anything. Then she called the police.

  "Listen, very carefully," Robin said, gazing at the narrow, pocked, ferret-faced Juan Carlos. "If you promise to be a witness for the prosecution, as we have just discussed, against Aaron Quijada, I will drop all charges against you. Right now you are in very serious trouble. You broke into my property. There are assault charges. Illegal weapons. Physical drug evidence. You will not leave jail for a long, long time."

  They were sitting in a small interrogation room at the county jail in Los Angeles. Tony, from the D.A.'s office, was sitting beside Robin. He was recording this meeting.

  Juan Carlos was shakily smoking a cigarette on the other side of the table. He was nervous and visibly trembling. Beside him was a young, court appointed lawyer, named Ed Riker.

  Juan had been languishing in jail for a few weeks, waiting for a grand jury indictment on the charges brought up against him when he had been caught in Robin's cabin at Lake Arrowhead. It had been Robin's idea to let him sweat it out for a while before bringing him a deal.

  "I get out on bail?" Juan Carlos asked, looking at the Assistant District Attorney.

  "Too dangerous," Tony said, shaking his head.

  Juan Carlos knew the prosecutor was hinting about the possibility of Quijada's retribution. If he found that Juan Carlos was out of jail, it would mean that Juan had made a deal.

  "You will have to remain in jail for a while. Otherwise Quijada will be suspicious," Juan's lawyer, Ed Riker said. He was a small man, barely out of law school, with sparse wispy blond hair. He had a soft voice and the habit of leaning and whispering advice in his client's ear.

  "And you must know by now that Quijada's going down," Robin said sternly. "You better get off the sinking boat, like all the others, ratting Quijada out. This is your only chance to keep from spending years in jail."

  "I get immunity from any kind of smuggling charges, too," Juan Carlos said looking coolly at Tony. He was dealing now, and his posture had straightened up. Ed Riker leaned to whisper something to Juan and he rubbed his ear, as if the whispering breath tickled him annoyingly.

  "You drive a hard bargain," Tony said, leaning back in his chair as though deliberating. The District Attorney's office had decided to give Juan Carlos freedom in return for his testimony. They knew he would move on in his life of petty crime. They would eventually catch him again. But Quijada was an enormous shark they wanted badly.

  Tony sat still, head cocked to one side, as if he was in deep thought for a couple of minutes. "Yes," he said, as if he had finally decided Juan's fate. "In this case we will give you immunity on everything. You just have to stay in jail until the situation is resolved."

  "And if I give evidence? How do I know you won't back out on the deal?" Juan asked.

  "Your lawyer is right here with you, listening," Tony said. "This meeting is being recorded. Mr. Riker will get a copy of the transcript, and anything we negotiate will be on the tape."

  "I don't know," Juan said. He scratched his dirty hair.

  "Look," Robin said. "We have you on burglary. There's assault. The physical tests results showed ingestion of illegal substances..."

  "Just a little coke," Juan interjected indignantly.

  "Whatever," Robin continued, "you're not getting out. This is your third arrest. The Three Strikes Law says they'll throw away the key."

  "That bitch stole from Mr. Quijada. I was just trying to get his stuff back."

  Juan's lawyer whispered angrily at Juan to shut up.

  "Fine. Then you're going away for life," Tony said. "We know you worked on procuring cocaine, heroin, and meth amphetamine from Mexico. Mike will to testify against you on the burglary. You're linked, through several witnesses, with Quijada's drug cartel."

  Robin and Tony stood up, obviously prepared to leave. Robin shrugged into his jacket.

  Juan's lawyer, Ed Riker, was whispering frantically to the skinny thug to take the District Attorney's offer. It was Juan Carlos' only chance of beating the charges.

  "Sit down. Sit down. We aren't finished," Juan said finally. "If Quijada beats this rap, I'm dead meat."

  Robin reached over and very deliberately turned off the recording machine. "There is a way we can keep Quijada in jail for life. Then you'll have protection against him ever coming after you."

  "How?" Juan asked.

  "It's another matter. There was a writer working for Aaron Quijada. His name was Brian Monay. We believe he was murdered on a direct order from Aaron Quijada. If we get Quijada up on murder charges, with everything else, he'll rot in jail."

  Robin knew he was treading a thin line. If Juan Carlos admitted that Quijada had ordered Brian Monay's murder, he might incriminate himself.

  "We didn't say nothing about murder," Juan Carlos whined. He was shaking again and reaching for his fourth cigarette with nicotine stained fingers. "I'll spill my guts about the drug cartel. But you gotta believe me when I say there was no murder."

  "A near lethal beating," Robin said, leaning across the table, snarling directly into Juan's face. "A man left for dead. When that didn't work, there was machinery in a hospital that was tampered with."

  Tony was kicking Robin under the table, trying to get him to shut up, but Robin, furious now, ignored him. He wanted Juan Carlos good and scared. Then he wanted him up on murder charges, along with Aaron Quijada.

  Later, Robin and Tony sat together in Tony's office, going over the evidence that they had accumulated against Aaron Quijada. Robin would not be joining the trial in any capacity, except as material witness in case they called him. The two had been there for hours, drinking coffee. Robin was rubbing his head. He had developed a pounding headache, but basically he felt good about the case against Quijada. An arrest was imminent.

  Tony finally pushed all the paperwork aside and stood up, stretching out the kinks. "I really appreciated you coming in on the interrogation with Juan Carlos. But you're letting things get personal when you accuse Quijada of murder."

  "I know he did it."

  "The police closed the case on Brian Monay. There's no physical evidence. I was afraid you were going to lose control and coldcock Juan Carlos yourself tonight."

  "If we don't get him good and scared he'll weasel right out of giving testimony. And you're damn right about it being personal. That little creep killed
Brian Monay, and then he slugged Julia. You saw her the next morning, what he did to a defenseless woman. That man is slime. We can't let him go. He's the key to the Monay murder."

  "We have to get Julia to testify that Juan Carlos assaulted her," Tony said. "It wouldn't have to be in open court. Just before the judge."

  "Absolutely not."

  Tony smiled at his friend. Robin had been working like a maniac, trying to forget about the beautiful woman from Boston. "Still no word?"

  Robin shook his head.

  "I could subpoena her. She would have to come and give evidence against Juan Carlos and Mike Gonzales. Then you two could get back together again."

  Robin laughed. Tony's plan was simplisticly ridiculous. "Just like that. She sees me again and falls into my arms? Come on. She's furious about that bet we made. With friends like you and Jay, I don't need enemies."

  "Hey, I said I'm sorry. I'll call her up. Tell her the bet was my idea. Take all the blame. Well," Tony paused and smiled, "we gotta give Jay a little of the blame, too. Take the heat off you."

  "I'll do it myself. I'm going up to Boston tomorrow. The last time I called Julia her phone was out of service. She may have changed it, but there's no new listing."

  "What if she won't see you?"

  "Then I'll go begging to her grandmother, Charlotte," Robin said. "And tonight, I have an appointment with your boss. The District Attorney will have to reopen the investigation on Brian Monay with the evidence I got at Cedars-Sinai Hospital."

  Tony looked at his friend with concern. Robin was exhausted with all the work he had been doing, including trying to reopen the Brian Monay mugging case as a deliberate, premeditated murder.

  CHAPTER 24

  Julia quickly went over her options after the police investigators left her apartment. The decision was to flee, and if that was being a lily-livered chicken-shit she didn't care.