Sativa Strain

by Alexi Venice

  She forced herself to think about the case. She pictured Ryan and Kara hooking up 18 years ago, their union resulting in Lindsay’s birth. Ryan must have come home to the busy household of Rebecca and two toddlers, knowing he had a baby in Palo Alto. Juggling his young family, keeping Kara and Lindsay a secret, and trying to be a detective at the same time must have been incredibly stressful. However, he’d told Tommy and Amanda that Kara had offered to relieve his stress by paying off Rebecca, so Kara could have Ryan to herself. Ryan had refused the offer. His love for Rebecca must be strong as hell.

  Then there was Kara. All these years, she had carried on a marital charade, allowing Carlos to believe Lindsay was his. Further perpetuating the lie, Kara had never told Lindsay, who stood the most to lose when the truth inevitably came out.

  What about Kara’s serial philandering? Ryan had insinuated—practically insisted—that her sexual prowess was revenge for his unrequited love. Is that just his ego talking, or is there any truth there?

  If Ryan was accurate, Kara’s behavior held an element of immature revenge that sustained over the course of 20 years. Amanda found that hard to believe. She was more inclined to think that Kara was satisfying her own sexual appetite, not carrying out escapades to grab Ryan’s attention.

  His theory didn’t take into account that Kara was a software titan running a billion-dollar empire. She didn’t have time to think about Ryan. She barely had any free time at all. Amanda was more inclined to believe that Kara’s sex life was centered around Kara’s personal needs. Thinking about Kara’s sex life triggered the thought of Dunhills.

  Even though the Dunhill hadn’t tasted as good as a Marlboro, Amanda found herself yearning for one. Her purse was inside the door. In it lay the red pack of Dunhills and the plastic shower cap. Funny, she hadn’t thought about them until she considered Kara’s sex life. Do I identify smoking with sex? Gonna have to rewire my brain if I want to stay with Jen.

  As if Amanda’s thoughts had magically summoned Jen, the screen door opened, and Jen padded out to the balcony. Amanda felt Jen’s arms slide around her waist, and her warm lips kiss her neck.

  “Mmm,” Amanda hummed, as she let her head fall back into Jen’s kiss.

  “Everything okay?” Jen whispered against Amanda’s neck.

  “Yeah. Just processing potential motives for murder.”

  “Not your own motives, I hope.”

  Amanda sighed. “I’d like to murder my parents for invading the privacy of my home without warning, but no, I don’t have any other plans.”

  “They’re trying to help you,” Jen said, swaying them side-to-side.

  “I know. Their presence just offends my need to control every aspect of my environment, that’s all.”

  “I’ve found that the more control I give up, the more I get in return. In both my work and personal lives.”

  “Of course you have. You’re not flawed like I am. You’re well-adjusted and balanced.”

  “I will admit that I have good balance.”

  Amanda turned and slid her hands over Jen’s shoulders and around her neck, clasping them behind Jen’s head. “You know what I mean.”

  Jen smiled. “If you say so.”

  “You also have gorgeous breasts.”

  “Are you trying to seduce me?”

  “Maybe, but it’s the truth.”

  Amanda was rewarded with Jen’s full lips brushing her own. Bliss. She nudged Jen’s lips open to swim in the velvety warmth there. When they separated a long minute later, Amanda said, “Thank you for coming out here. I was just thinking about smoking a cigarette.”

  “Battling the urge, huh?”

  “More than you know,” Amanda said.

  “I’m sorry it has a grip on you.”

  “Me too.” Amanda searched Jen’s wise eyes. “Why does tobacco have this power over me?”

  “We don’t know. Might be environmental or genetic, or a combination. Your parents don’t smoke, so you didn’t grow up in a smoking household. I’m leaning toward an addictive gene buried deep within your soul. What do you think?”

  “I think you’re right. If I’m not addicted to smoking, I’m addicted to valium, or wine, or playing cello, or yoga….” Amanda couldn’t bear to list all of her addictions.

  “Or being a prosecutor. All of that passion, drive and ambition combine to make you the successful woman you are. Unfortunately, when you want to relax, the addictive behavior overdoes the relaxants, too. I’ve seen people with addictive personalities, like yours, discipline themselves to normal serving sizes—for lack of a better term—of alcohol, but it takes a lot of practice.

  “Ugh,” Amanda said against Jen’s neck. “Such work.”

  “I’m here to applaud and reward you.”

  “But, please, don’t police me.” She kissed Jen’s throat, circling her tongue on the soft skin.

  “I’d never dream of it,” Jen said, her voice catching. “That role wouldn’t be healthy for either of us. For example, you smelled like cigarette smoke when you got home tonight, but I didn’t bust you because, (A) I didn’t know if Frank was smoking in the car—although I doubt it; and (B) I’m not going to play that role.”

  Amanda covered her mouth. “Oh my God, you smelled it?”

  “Of course, you idiot,” Jen said gently. “It’s cigarette smoke.”

  The shower cap flashed before Amanda’s eyes, but she was too embarrassed to tell Jen about it. So stupid. She couldn’t believe she was reduced to thinking she could deceive Jen while making an ass out of herself to Frank. “You’re right. I smoked in the car on the way home.”

  Amanda looked up at Jen’s intense eyes. No disappointment.

  “I love you,” Jen said. “I want you to be healthy, so I’m hopeful that you can kick experimenting with marijuana, smoking cigarettes, and anything else that you might view as a substitute for taking valium. I’m a patient woman, but we also have a child to raise, and I want to raise her in a household where there isn’t any deception about drugs and alcohol. Will you help me do that?”

  A lump formed in Amanda’s throat, and tears sprang to her eyes. “Yes. I’ll help you raise Kristin the right way. I’ll keep working on my addictions.”

  “Will you keep your therapy appointments?” Jen asked.

  “Of course. I like Susan.”

  “She’ll help you confront your demons, babe. Just keep working with her.”

  “See? That’s just it. I don’t really have any demons. I had a great upbringing. I haven’t been violated personally in any way. I’ve loved my life. Yet, I still feel compelled to get high, and I’m a little self-destructive.”

  “I think the desire to escape is natural. Drugs aren’t good for coping with emotional trauma—like your PTSD from shooting that mobster. That, my love, is your demon. There are much better tools, both inside the doctor’s office and outside, to cope with your guilt and memory of shooting Eddy what’s-his-name.”

  “Valentine. Eddy Valentine.” Amanda sighed. “Yes, he’s undoubtedly my demon.”

  “See? Breakthrough.”

  “And you aren’t judgmental, which eliminates my need to hide shit from you.”

  “No judgment here, just love.”

  “I know you’re being loving with me, and, trust me, I don’t want to test the outer bounds of your patience. I’ve seen your pride and self-respect, and your protective mama-bear side, so I know you have the guts to dump me if you need to. I want to stay healthy for us. For me, too, don’t get me wrong, but more importantly, for us.”

  Jen kissed Amanda’s forehead. “I have this overwhelming desire to do all sorts of tantalizing things to you right now.”

  Amanda felt goosebumps spread across her arms. She pulled Jen tight against her, pressing her thigh between Jen’s legs. “I’m addicted to you.”

  “The Jen-addiction is very healthy. You should feed it,” Jen breathed.

  Chapter 35

  The Next Morning

  Amanda quietly
opened the door to Jen’s apartment and walked into the kitchen where she found Jen doing a crossword puzzle over a cup of coffee.

  “Hey stranger. Did you go for a walk on the beach?” Jen asked.

  “No. I was over at our new house. I did a solid hour of yoga, and it felt heavenly.”

  “Namaste,” Jen said over the top of her coffee.

  “My body and soul have been restored with light, ease and peace.” Amanda poured herself a cup of coffee and added enough cream and sugar to feed Zumba for a week. “Thanks for buying real cream.”

  “I know what you like,” Jen said, returning to her crossword puzzle. “How did the house look?”

  “Amazing. It’s finished.”

  “Have your parents moved most of your stuff in?”

  “Mostly. When do you want to move in?”

  “Let’s play it by ear and see when it feels right.” Jen’s eyes remained on her puzzle.

  Amanda froze. “Do I hear second thoughts?”

  “Of course not.” Jen looked up, and Amanda was reassured by innocent blue eyes.

  “I guess I’m just being insecure.”

  “Paranoia will destroy ya.” Jen returned to her puzzle.

  “And, with that pearl of wisdom, I’m off to shower. Tommy just texted that he wants to meet with me as soon as I get to work.”

  “In that case, you’d better hustle your perfect ass.”

  “Aren’t you sassy this morning?!”

  Jen set down her pencil and spread her arms. “Come here.”

  Amanda scooted between Jen’s knees, pressing her tummy against Jen’s lips and resting her hands on Jen’s toned shoulders. When Jen lifted Amanda’s tank and kissed her tight skin, still damp from her workout, Amanda was tempted to blow off Tommy’s meeting altogether. “God, you make my legs week, but I promised Tommy I’d be in soon.”

  “I understand. Text me later?” Jen kissed Amanda’s tattoo of intersecting female symbols, just above her hip bone.

  Amanda moaned in pleasure. “Yeah. Want to go out for dinner tonight?”

  “Sure. Some place kid-friendly.”

  “Maybe we could meet Jack and Chloe at Pacific Cafe.” Amanda kissed the top of Jen’s head, savoring the warmth and smell of her sleepy hair.

  “Where we had our first date. Good idea. Do you want me to text them?” Jen asked.

  “I will.”

  “Don’t forget,” Jen said.

  “I won’t.”

  ***

  Hall of Justice

  Amanda dumped her coat and bag in her office and rushed over to Tommy’s suite. He had already texted her while she was en route, asking where she was.

  She burst into his office and took a chair across from his desk, her alabaster coffee Thermos from Joe’s Coffee in hand. She had purchased it on her way as a reward for confiding her feelings to Jen instead of smoking on the balcony. “How’s it going?”

  Tommy rose from his chair and quickly went to his office door. He closed it with the body language that portended trouble. “Not so good. I learned something last night.”

  “You look like shit,” she said.

  “I feel like shit. I’m not used to staying up late and drinking bourbon with my beer.”

  She raised her eyebrows, as she watched him stuff half a croissant into his mouth and wash it down with coffee.

  “Croissants?” she asked.

  His mouth still full, he said, “I swung into Caffe Trieste this morning. Want one?”

  “No thanks.” Even if she did, seeing the already chewed one in his open mouth suppressed her appetite.

  “More for me,” he said, reaching into the bag.

  “How many have you had?”

  He smiled sheepishly. “Three.”

  “Good for you. Go for the fourth.” I assume you didn’t invite me to your office to watch you nurse a hangover.

  In what must have been a second thought, he removed his hand from the bag and carefully rolled it closed. Setting it aside, he said, “I have bad news.”

  She nodded.

  “Last night, Navarro and I confirmed that Carlos Montiago’s 1966 ivy green Mustang was parked outside Goat Hill Pizza during the time in question. The time on the Goat Hill video said 9:31 p.m., but Navarro is working with them today to see if that’s an accurate setting.

  “So, Carlos was lying to us,” she said.

  Tommy leaned back in his chair. “Maybe not. This next part is the bad news.” He sighed and closed his eyes. “I also watched the security video from the Scarlet Huntington.”

  “And, Kara and her lover, Voss, were on it?” Amanda asked.

  “Yes. I saw them arrive about 8:30 and leave around midnight, which is consistent with what each of them told us.”

  “So, what’s the issue?”

  He reluctantly opened his eyes. “I saw someone else on the video. He arrived shortly before 11 p.m. and went to the Passion Suite. Kara opened the door, and he handed her something small enough to fit in the palm of her hand. I think it was a set of car keys.”

  Amanda’s eyes flashed. “The keys to the Mustang?”

  “I think so. I think the killer used the Mustang to drive over to Carlisle’s house, whack him, then return the Mustang to Kara at the Scarlet.”

  “If the killer returned the keys to Kara, that means she hired him to do it.”

  “Except in this case, I don’t think she hired him. I think he did it willingly,” Tommy said.

  “How do you know?”

  “I saw his face when he walked down the hallway.” Tommy pinched the bridge of his nose.

  She suddenly appreciated that he was suffering from more than a hangover. “Who was it?”

  “Ryan,” Tommy said so softly that she wasn’t sure she’d heard him correctly.

  “As in ‘Ryan Delmastro?’” she whispered.

  Tommy opened his eyes. “Yes. Want to see the video?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Navarro had already prepared and emailed the clip to Tommy, so he pulled it up on his flat screen. Amanda came around his side of the desk and watched. He paused the video where Ryan looked directly into the camera.

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” she asked under her breath.

  “I know. I’m afraid that Ryan whacked Jared Carlisle and worked with Kara to make it look like Carlos was framing her for the murder,” Tommy said.

  “Trying to kill two birds with one stone,” she said. “Kill Carlisle and send Carlos to prison. That clever son-of-a-bitch, telling us he didn’t want anything to do with Kara.”

  “And I believed him,” Tommy said.

  “Why wouldn’t you? He’s your cousin.” She rested her hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “Does Navarro know the significance of this video?”

  “I told him not to tell anyone.”

  “He’s very discreet.”

  “I’m just so fucking disappointed…and angry.” Tommy rubbed his eyes for the hundredth time since seeing the video, subconsciously hoping he could erase the image that was burned into his retinas.

  “This doesn’t make any sense.” Amanda began pacing. “Kara is running for President. How would it help her campaign to have a husband on trial for the murder of an ex-lover? What the hell kind of plan is that?”

  “It wouldn’t, but once Carlisle, and maybe the other ex-lover who is MIA, blackmailed her to leave the race, threatening to make their videos public, it became necessary,” Tommy said.

  “Have we heard anything about the other ex?”

  “Chris Galindez?” Tommy asked. “No. But Navarro told me there’s a sex video of Galindez on the Montiago laptop, so we know he possibly had a blackmail video of her, too.”

  “And, see, if the videos were to become public despite erasing Jared Carlisle, what would be the point of murder?”

  “Maybe she didn’t know that Carlisle had videotaped her in her dominatrix costume at the time she arranged to have Carlisle murdered.”

  “Come again?” she asked.
/>
  “I showed the video to Kara the day after the murder when we were at her office. She might have been acting, but she looked pretty fuckin’ surprised to see it.”

  “Maybe.”

  “However, I think she installed a camera to video her escapades, then downloaded a few onto Carlos’ laptop to make it look like he was snooping on her. Again, framing him.”

  “Hmm.”

  “That’s not all she did,” Tommy said. “I think she brought a glass that Carlos had used at their house over to her apartment to make us think that Carlos had been in the apartment. I don’t think he was ever there, though.”

  “Very smart, planting his prints in her apartment,” she said. “Did you confirm the prints were his by double checking them against the prints you lifted from the conference table in the Psych Unit?”

  “Yep,” he said.

  “What about the cigarette butt?” she asked. “We thought Carlos planted that in the driveway to frame Kara.”

  “Actually, the reverse is more likely. The lab told me Carlos’ DNA is on the cigarette butt,” Tommy said.

  “And?” she asked.

  “I think Kara stuck it in his mouth while he was sleeping to get his saliva on it. Then she put her own lipstick on it to make it look like Carlos was trying to frame her. This is where Ryan’s expertise was needed. He’d know that we would collect the cigarette butt and chase the saliva on it. He told Kara to tell us ‘someone’ was framing her for murder, to make us believe that whoever’s saliva was on the cigarette butt was the killer framing her.”

  “Brilliant. She and Ryan concocted a plan to kill Carlisle and have Carlos take the fall,” Amanda hissed. “What about all that nonsense of her usually smoking Dunhills, but last week she was smoking Pall Mall’s.”

  “More acting and framing. Carlos would, of course, know she smoked Dunhills, so she wanted us to believe that he planted one in the driveway. Then she gave us that cock and bull story about smoking Pall Mall’s for the last week. She and Ryan were very careful about orchestrating evidence for us to see and hear.”

  “I agree that someone like Ryan had to be advising her. There are too many evidentiary angles to this that Kara wouldn’t know. She’d need someone with experience who could forecast the deductions we would make.”