A Price to Pay

by Angela Winters

  Haley was ready to plant her next seed. “Maybe she had something to do with this. Maybe she wanted to frame him to get back at him for turning her down. She hit on you, right? That night.”

  “Yeah,” Garrett said.

  “If you have any more stories to tell,” Detective Falger said, “write a book of fairy tales. I think you’re all lying. Maybe I’ll be talking to you next, Ms. Chase.”

  “You wish,” she said back.

  As the men left with Garrett, Haley summoned the waiter. He cautiously came over, seeming almost frightened.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Put this dinner on my father’s account,” she said.

  “Well . . . Ms. Chase. Your father’s account with the hotel is for business lunches.”

  She looked at the man. His pale face went even paler as her expression darkened. “Do you want to keep your job?”

  He didn’t seem to hesitate. “On the account it is, Ms. Chase. Thank you.”

  Haley didn’t know what in the hell was going on. Could Garrett actually be involved in a murder? She could see him doing something illegal, but imagined he was too much of a wimp to go that far. Whatever the case, somehow Taylor had injected herself into it and was trying to get out by denying she knew him.

  Haley was going to make sure it wouldn’t be that easy.

  Michael watched with impatience as his brother sat across from him, looking over papers and contracts. He hadn’t lifted his head in ten minutes and as every second passed, Michael felt it was a personal insult to him. They had spent the day in Manhattan poring over every minute detail of the publishing deal with the agent, Elisha Fisher. Michael was satisfied, but Carter continued to ask questions, turning what should have been a pre-celebration dinner at Jean Georges in Central Park West, into an inquisition.

  The waiter waited for the garçon to remove their dinner plates and leave before approaching the table. “Will there be dessert for you tonight?”

  Carter ignored the man, but Michael shook his head. “I think we’re full.”

  “Shall I wait for the lady?”

  “What lady?” Carter asked, laughing at his own insult. He looked up at the waiter, who seemed uncertain of how to respond. “It was a joke.”

  “It was an insult,” Michael shot back, “to a woman who has done everything you’ve asked her to.”

  Carter waved the waiter away and he seemed more than happy to leave. “So you choose this woman to defend? Meanwhile you say ten times worse insults to your own wife, in front of me.”

  “Mind your own business.” Michael leaned back on his side of the circular booth.

  Carter placed the contract on the table. “When you make out with someone in public on a regular basis, you make it everyone’s business.”

  “You just don’t like her,” Michael said. “Is this jealousy I’m sensing?”

  “In your dreams.” Carter took a sip of his Amuse Bouche wine, poured from a five-hundred-dollar bottle that Michael ordered as if the deal had been done. “Your eagerness is dangerous. I have to check it ten times over because I can see what you aren’t willing to see.”

  “Since when did you get your psychiatrist degree?” Michael rolled his eyes.

  “Sorry to take so long,” Elisha Fisher said as she slid back into the booth next to Michael.

  Elisha was a pretty woman by any standards. Her skin was alabaster white, which paired perfectly with her long, dark copper-colored hair. She dressed in colors that complemented her milky skin and brought out the light of her seductive green eyes. She carried herself as if she had all the money in the world. She wasn’t very tall or shapely, but she was sassy, smart, and socially connected. The combination of these three qualities had gotten her farther than her Ivy League education and fortunate DNA pool could have alone.

  “I saw the wife of a client in the ladies’ room and had to do the kissing ass.” She flipped her hair back and looked at Carter. “You know how it is.”

  “No,” Carter said. “Actually we’re the ones usually getting our asses kissed.”

  Elisha laughed as if she didn’t notice Carter’s cold tone. She leaned into Michael and kissed him on the cheek.

  Carter didn’t like this woman. Michael seemed temporarily enchanted with her, but despite not having a psych degree, Carter had become one of the best young lawyers in California by being able to read people without a word being spoken. The deal, if it could be worked out, would clearly be a win for Chase Beauty, but it didn’t change the fact that he didn’t like this woman.

  “You didn’t miss anything,” Michael said. “Carter is just being anal as usual.”

  He had stopped feeling guilty about liking the way Elisha felt next to him. He didn’t love her by any standards and had originally only come on to her because of his interest in snagging this deal before anyone else could. They had only known each other for two days before they ended up in the Terrace Suite at The Plaza Hotel. Michael wasn’t a fool. He knew that part of his affection for her was because she was a ticket to get back in his father’s good graces, but that didn’t mean he didn’t like her. She did anything he wanted. And then there was that hair. He had a weakness for red hair.

  Carter shot Michael a look that warned him against going further. “Elisha, I would like you to come back to L.A. one more time.”

  Elisha’s practiced smile never faded. “What more is there to do?”

  “My father isn’t happy that we weren’t able to meet with Alston Frist again. He seemed more than willing to meet with us the first time we were here, and he was speaking to Dad regularly in the beginning. What’s changed?”

  “He’s moving on is what’s changed,” Elisha answered. “He sold the company to us because of personal matters that needed his prompt attention. He was eager to help in the beginning, but he’s paying us millions to take it from here.”

  “And what exactly is this personal matter needing prompt attention?” Carter asked. “We’ve checked and there doesn’t seem to be anything in his personal life going on.”

  “He told Dad it was a health issue,” Michael said. “Dad seemed satisfied.”

  “A billionaire like Frist?” Carter asked. “If he’s sick, we should be able to find out.”

  “Elisha, do you know what it is?” Michael asked.

  She shook her head. “But I know that when I asked him for more specifics, his wife began to cry and ran out of the room. Either way, even though Steven Chase has a few billions, so does Alston. So whatever your money can find out, his money can keep hidden.”

  “You see,” Carter said, waving his index finger at her, “that’s what bothers me and I think my father is going to need some closure on that. You either get Frist to come to L.A. or you come and figure out how to assuage my father’s concerns about him.”

  Elisha sighed, but never stopped smiling. She looked up at Michael and said, “Well, it isn’t as if I won’t love seeing you more.”

  Michael leaned down and pressed his lips against hers. Carter was only so patient. After a few seconds, he cleared his throat to get their attention.

  “Do you mind?” he asked. “Cause I do.” Michael glared at his brother as he patted Elisha on her thigh. “Let’s go. Carter will take care of the bill.”

  Michael thanked the flight attendant as she handed him a bottle of water. When they took off from LaGuardia, she introduced herself as Faith. She was the new flight attendant for the company that Chase Beauty hired to fly its Gulfstream IV private jet.

  “Faith,” he said as he accepted the bottle. “How far are we?”

  “You’re eager to get home to your family?” Her Texas accent matched her big blonde hair.

  Carter laughed as he continued to look out the window.

  Michael wanted to smack him, but he continued smiling at Faith. “Yes, I am.”

  “We’re over Colorado right now. It will be less than an hour.” She returned to the galley.

  “You’re such a damn hypocrite,” Michael
said.

  Carter swung his seat around to face his brother. “Don’t start with me on Avery again. You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

  “Yes I do, but I’m not talking about your hypocrisy with Avery, which is still true. I’m talking about you cheating on Julia.”

  “Julia is not my wife,” he said flatly.

  “And she never will be,” Michael added.

  Carter gave him a sly grin. “You know something I don’t?”

  “No, we both know you’re never going to marry her because you still think you’re going to marry Avery.”

  “Everything comes back to Avery with you.” Carter wouldn’t deny it. It was the truth. “What is your obsession with Avery?”

  “I never wanted Avery in your life to begin with, but let’s face it, brother. If she could pick an unemployed school teacher over you, you might want to write this one off.”

  “Avery is the mother of my child,” Carter said. “Our relationship is about Connor. That’s it.”

  “You’re a lying son of a bitch.”

  “Just handle your own . . .” Carter gripped the edges of the plush leather chair as the plane jerked hard. He paused a second before letting go. “Just handle your own shit.”

  “I do handle my . . .”

  This time the jerk was so hard that Faith, back in galley, fell to the floor. Carter jumped up to get her, but she yelled for him to stop.

  “No,” she said. “I’m fine. Just sit down and put your seatbelt on. Now!”

  Carter returned to his seat. Just as he tried to sit down the entire plane seemed to lurch as if it was going over a gigantic wave. Carter was lifted in the air and fell against the wall.

  “Jesus!” Michael grabbed Carter’s arm to keep him still. “What in the hell is going on?”

  The captain came over the intercom trying to calm them down, but Michael and Carter weren’t listening. The plane was shaking all over, and as soon as Carter was finally secured in his seat, it began to plummet.

  Michael and Carter were looking at each other, but both were thinking of the women they loved and the children they lived for. They were beginning to lose consciousness as the plane continued falling. Anything that wasn’t nailed down was flying around, glass was shattering into pieces and Faith began screaming.

  6

  Janet motioned for Maya to grab the pen and pad sitting on the granite-topped kitchen island while she instructed the caterer for Leigh’s birthday event over the phone.

  “I want to have the chilled, minted spring pea soup,” she said as Maya nodded her understanding to write this all down. “The mini crab, avocado, and arugula crostini sound perfect.”

  The pasta pot on the stove began boiling over and Maya threw the pad down to tend to it. Janet reached for the pad herself, cradling the phone between her neck and shoulder.

  “I also changed my mind and want you to bring back the Serrano-ham-and-tomato confit on olive bread, as well as the eggplant caviar with goat cheese and basil. That should be enough.”

  She blew a kiss to Steven as he entered the kitchen. He had forgone a round of golf with friends to be home with her and discuss the cruise they would be taking for their upcoming anniversary.

  “Yes, that’s about thirty people.” Maya returned to help her, but Janet gestured that her help was no longer needed. “Please write that up and fax it back to me immediately. Thank you.”

  “Is the amazing Janet Chase losing her touch?” Steven said as he sat down at the table overlooking the back patio and pool. “Could you possibly be behind on your party planning duties?”

  “Very funny.” Janet came around the island and joined him at the table. “The party planner I hired backed out on me. She sold her business to a big company and I’m not dealing with some mass party producer. Maya, can you bring me that pitcher of lemonade in the refrigerator, and glasses? Thank you, dear.”

  “Trying to sweeten me up?” he asked. “There is nothing you can do to convince me to go on a cruise to Alaska.”

  “It’s the only place we haven’t been,” Janet said. “It’s a private line, ultra, ultra luxury.”

  “It’s still cold. Cruises should be warm.”

  “We can talk about that later.” Janet poured the lemonade Maya made extra sweet, just like Steven wanted it. “I want to talk to you about buying Haley the condo in Australia she wants.”

  “I’m not buying Haley anything,” Steven said. “I just got a thirty-thousand-dollar bill from a catering company she hired for a party on the yacht that she didn’t tell me about, let alone get my permission for.”

  Janet offered the glass to her husband. “She can pay that bill. I’ll make sure she does. But she can’t buy that condo.”

  “Why not?” Steven knew exactly what all his children were taking from their trust funds, each having several million dollars. Until they were twenty-five, it was one hundred and fifty thousand a year. After twenty-five, it was two hundred and fifty thousand. and after thirty, they could take whatever they wanted. “She has money and she never spends it,” he continued. “She lives here rent free, drives a car I bought, uses our credit cards and takes every chance she can get to put her lifestyle on any account that comes back to me for payment.”

  “The condo is three million dollars, Steven. She doesn’t have that. If she did, she would buy it. She wants it.”

  “She wants everything.”

  “True, but this is the first time she’s wanted to own something that has value. Do we really want to deny her the privilege of owning property? I think we should support her.”

  Janet took a sip. “Or you can allow her a one-time withdrawal of three million dollars from her trust fund.”

  The phone rang and Maya left the stove to answer it.

  Steven didn’t enjoy being taken advantage of by Haley yet again, but he wanted to make his wife happy and he didn’t want to spend the precious time he had with her, arguing over their daughter’s constant demands.

  “I’ll make you a deal.” He leaned in with a sly smile. “You tell Haley that I’ll let her pay for that condo herself, as well as the upkeep, taxes, and management, with her own money. If she still wants to do it, I’ll contact the trust.”

  He knew she wouldn’t. Haley always complained about not being able to get enough out of her trust fund, but when it came down to it, she didn’t want to spend her own money on anything.

  “I’ll do that,” Janet said. “And I think she’ll surprise. . .”

  They were both jolted by Maya’s blood curdling scream. Steven and Janet shot up from their seats. Maya’s hand, holding the phone, fell limp to her side as a look of horror came over her face.

  Taylor saw Sean hurrying up the walkway to the Jackson home and she knew he was going to go off. When she’d called him to tell him what had happened, there was a long silence on the other end followed by, “We can’t do this over the phone. We need to be face-to-face. I’ll check out what I can with the BHPD.”

  “Don’t start on me!” she yelled as soon as he entered the living room.

  “It’s a murder case, Taylor!”

  “Don’t let Mom and Dad know,” she pleaded, her hands entwined in prayer. “Just don’t tell them.”

  “This is going to be a high-profile case.” Sean sat down in his father’s favorite recliner, trying to calm himself. “This guy was a rich lawyer with very rich clients. What in the hell have you gotten yourself into?”

  “It’s not my fault,” she said. “Garrett tricked me. He used me as an alibi.”

  “How can he do that?”

  “He paid me.” Taylor could see her older brother’s head about to explode. “It’s a long story, but it makes sense.”

  “It better.”

  “Well, you know I’ve been looking for ways to make money and there is this alibi company.” Embarrassed, Taylor couldn’t look him in the eye as she spoke, so she looked down at her lap. “I thought I might get a job with them.”

 
“Shut up, Taylor.”

  Taylor’s head shot up. “I know it sounds crazy, but hear me out.”

  “No.” Sean stood up, looking out the front window at the two detectives making their way to the front door. “I mean, shut up. Don’t say anything until we can get you a lawyer.”

  Taylor felt a sense of panic press against her chest as she saw the same detectives that had approached her on campus. They were coming to her parents’ house in Baldwin Hills? “We? You mean Mom and Dad? Do they have to know?”

  Sean walked to the door. “I don’t think you have a choice. Is there anything incriminating in this house?”

  “What?”

  “Answer me!” Sean grabbed the door handle. “We won’t let them in if there is something . . .”

  “No!” Taylor wondered if Sean actually thought she could be involved in a murder.

  Sean greeted the detectives. He’d known Graves briefly from L.A. County detective training sessions. The older man was a complete stranger but he looked like all the other older detectives in the bureau: impatient, tired, and waiting to retire.

  Detective Graves greeted Taylor and Sean and introduced Detective Falger to Sean, before saying, “I’m sorry to have to bother you again, Ms. Jackson, but we have a problem with your story.”

  “Story?” Sean asked. “Sounds like you’re coming into this prejudiced.”

  “No offense, detective,” Falger said in a fatherly tone. “But information has come to light that leads us to believe Ms. Jackson isn’t being completely honest with us.”

  Taylor’s stomach began to turn and she held her hands together tight, to hide that they were shaking. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I told you that I . . .”

  “We talked to Ms. Huffington,” Graves said.

  Taylor felt as if she’d been hit across the head. They went after Claire? The one person she chose to verify the lie!

  “What does she have to do with this?” Sean asked.

  “She was with Ms. Jackson when we questioned her before.” Graves nodded toward Falger. “My partner here noticed that Ms. Huffington seemed uncomfortable about the whole conversation, so we thought we’d talk to her alone.”