Sativa Strain

by Alexi Venice

  When they arrived at Voss’ building, three squad cars were in a line at the curb, and a few police were standing on the sidewalk.

  “Thanks, guys,” Frank said, as he got out of the car. “We’re going to the fifth floor to arrest a lawyer named Vincent Voss. I only need two or three guys. Might be good to cover the other exits of this building in case he bolts.”

  They nodded.

  Frank and Amanda in the lead, the team, including Tommy, crammed into the elevator and rode to the fifth floor. When they stepped into the reception area of the posh offices, they were met with a mildly surprised look from the unflappable icicle whose chestnut hair was in a chignon du cou.

  Frank commanded in his official voice, “We’re here for Vincent Voss. Unlock the door, and we’ll find our way to his office.”

  “No need for that,” she said. “I’ll take you.” She raced from her chair to the dark walnut door.

  “Thanks for your hospitality,” he said politely.

  “My pleasure,” she threw back equably.

  Why is she so nice to him? Tommy wondered then saw a glint in her eye and a smirk on her face. Is she enjoying this as much as I am?

  They walked by several cubicles to a corner office where Voss was on his phone. Frank barged in, followed by Tommy, Amanda and the officers.

  Voss quickly mumbled something into the phone and hung up. “You’re interrupting an important meeting—”

  Frank motioned to the officers to round Voss’ desk and cuff him. “You’re under arrest for the murder of Jared Carlisle. You have the right to remain silent—”

  “Lawyer,” Voss said. “I want my lawyer.”

  Frank continued the Miranda warning over Voss’s repeated requests for a lawyer while the two officers slapped cuffs on him.

  Just then, some movement off to the side caught Amanda’s eye. She turned to look at the opposite corner of Voss’ office and saw Kara Montiago, dressed in tight jeans and a drab olive jacket. For the second time that day, Amanda watched in horror as someone raised a gun at her. Kara fired off a shot that raced by Amanda and hit Frank.

  He collapsed to the floor in a heap and Kara, as surprised as anyone that she shot someone, turned the gun on Tommy, her hand shaking uncontrollably. Amanda quickly grabbed Tommy’s nine-millimeter from his holster and chambered a bullet. I’ve got to stop her.

  Kara shot again, sending everyone in the room to a crouching position, except Amanda, who fired a shot over Kara’s shoulder and hit the window, shattering it.

  Kara lurched to her right, heading toward the door, and an officer jumped up and tackled her. During her fall, she managed to fire another round into a fluorescent light, raining shards of glass on everyone.

  The officer attempted to grab Kara’s arm, but she held the gun at bay, her trigger finger acting randomly as shots rang around the room hitting lamps, bookshelves and more windows. She twisted, and the officer grappled with her, his hands sliding from her hips down to her ankles as she squirmed and kicked, getting loose. Her shooting hand flailed, aiming at nothing but hitting everything. Amanda had never seen anything like it.

  Instinct took over, and Amanda took aim at the blur that was now Kara with an officer holding onto her ankle like a vicious dog biting a pant cuff. A bullet whistled by Amanda’s ear, and that was more than she could brave. She hit the carpet face-first, still holding Tommy’s gun, but unable to use it.

  Despite Kara’s shooting rampage, the officer gained advantage and grabbed her by the waist. Amanda was shocked that Kara hadn’t shot him yet, but she seemed to be unaware that she was shooting the gun in her outstretched hand. They tumbled and writhed over the broken glass until Kara gave him a kick to the face.

  He released his grip for an instant, and she lunged sideways toward the empty window frame, outlined by jagged fragments of glass. By the time Kara realized she was halfway out the window, it was too late to reverse course. Her momentum carried her over the edge, her hands wildly grasping for a stronghold, but nothing was within reach. She tumbled out the fifth-floor window, the gun sailing through the air in front of her.

  They heard the Doppler effect of her scream as she fell to the alleyway below, landing on top of a red car that alarmed in protest.

  Tommy and Amanda were on their feet first. They rushed to the window and peered over to see Kara’s body splayed out, her back to them.

  Amanda was stunned to see what was written in bold white letters on the back of Kara’s drab olive jacket: “I really don’t care, do u?”

  A Zara jacket? Amanda thought, trying to piece together any logic behind that fashion choice. If she’s asking me whether I care if she’s dead or alive, she’s right. I really don’t. Amanda pressed her eyes shut to erase the nightmarish scene and returned her attention to the bullet-riddled office behind her.

  Frank was doubled over in agony, both hands gripping his thigh, a growing pool of blood staining his light grey trousers.

  She rushed to his side. “Frank, talk to me.”

  “I didn’t scan the office when I came in,” he groaned. “Why did I pick today to skip checking corners? Ambushed!”

  “None of us did,” Amanda said. “Lay back and elevate your leg for me.”

  Amanda lay Tommy’s gun on the floor, and with trembling hands, removed Frank’s belt. She looped it around his thigh above the blood stain and cinched it tight. Then she removed her scarf and tied it around his leg where the wound was. “That should stem the bleeding until the paramedics get here.” Her ears ringing from the gunshots, she looked at the officers. They were already requesting emergency medical personnel through their lapel microphones.

  Amanda eased from her knees to a sitting position beside Frank, grabbing his bloody hand and holding it in hers. “I’m here for you, Frank. The EMTs will be here in a few minutes.”

  “Not the first time I’ve been shot,” he said through clenched teeth. “Hurts like holy hell.”

  Tommy kneeled beside her and grabbed his gun. “Guess it’s my turn to give you shit, Frank.”

  “Anytime, Tommy.”

  The officers yanked Voss to his feet and checked with one another to see if anyone else was injured.

  Tommy faced Voss. “Nice work, asshole. You and Kara were quite the team.”

  “All I did was try to negotiate a settlement between Kara and those scumbags,” Voss said.

  “What scumbags?” Tommy asked, knowing the officers’ lapel microphones were recording everything Voss said.

  “Galindez and Carlisle,” Voss said. “They tried to blackmail her for $500,000 each, but I offered them—Carlisle, anyway—$100,000. Galindez didn’t show. I can’t believe he blew off a meeting worth $100,000, but Carlisle and I had a deal when I left. He signed a release.”

  “Then you clobbered him with an iron skillet, killing him,” Tommy said.

  “No fuckin’ way,” Voss said. “You’re not pinning murder on me. I can show you the release he signed.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Tommy said. “That doesn’t prove a thing.”

  “I didn’t do it!” Voss exclaimed.

  “Galindez is down at the Hall of Justice, and he says you did.”

  “He wasn’t even there!” Voss said in panicked voice.

  “That’s what you think,” Tommy said, totally lying.

  “If he was, then he can tell you that Carlisle was alive and well when I left.”

  “Why did you drive the Montiago Mustang to Carlisle’s house?” Tommy asked.

  “Kara told me to,” he said.

  “To frame Carlos for the murder?” Tommy asked.

  “I have no idea what she was up to. She just told me to drive it, and I didn’t think twice about it.”

  “Bullshit,” Tommy snarled. “Kara hired you to whack Galindez and Carlisle, and to frame Carlos for it, didn’t she?”

  “No!” Voss yelled.

  “Your fat bank account in Cayman says otherwise!” Tommy yelled back.

  “She was paying me
a consulting fee to help with her campaign,” Voss said.

  “No jury is going to believe that,” Tommy growled.

  “I didn’t murder him!” Voss screamed. “Someone is setting me up.”

  “That’s what they all say.”

  “You’re making a big mistake. You and Amanda better set this straight, or else…”

  “Or else, what?” Tommy said, getting up in Voss’s grill.

  “You’ll regret it.”

  “Threaten me, and I have no problem killing you,” Tommy said. “Take him away.”

  Chapter 42

  San Francisco Community Hospital

  Ryan, Tommy and Amanda sat in the sticky, vinyl chairs waiting for Frank’s surgeon to give them a condition report.

  “I thought I was clear that you were supposed to go straight home,” Ryan said to Tommy.

  “We were on our way to Tommy’s,” Amanda said, “when we drove by Voss’s office building and saw the squad cars parked out front. We didn’t want to make them wait, risking a tip to Voss that an arrest was imminent.”

  “Nice try,” Ryan said. “Voss’s building isn’t on the way to Tommy’s.”

  She gave him her softest look that always worked on her father. “I’m sorry about Kara.”

  He shook his head. “I’m not. She got what she deserved.”

  The surgeon entered the waiting area, his green mask pushed down around his neck, a green cap covering his head, and his OSHA plastic glasses magnifying his sharp eyes. “Officer Degrugilliers tolerated the procedure well. The bullet went through his leg, so we repaired torn blood vessels and closed the wound. His arteries and femur are in good shape.”

  “Thank God,” Amanda said. “Will he regain normal use?”

  “I think so,” the surgeon said.

  “When can we see him?” Frank asked.

  “He’s in the postoperative unit right now,” the surgeon said. “He’ll be transferred to the floor in an hour or so. You can visit him up there.”

  “Thanks Doc,” Tommy said. “I’d shake your hand, but my arm is in a sling.”

  “I can see that. Take care.”

  After the surgeon left, Ryan said, “I’m starved. Wanna get something to eat in the cafeteria?”

  “Yes!” Tommy and Amanda said in unison.

  Once they were seated with their trays, Ryan said, “Word from the station is that Voss lawyered up”

  “I’m not surprised,” Amanda said. “Unless we find his fingerprints on the iron skillet or some other direct evidence, the case against him is largely circumstantial.”

  “I’ll tell the lab to compare the fingerprints they lifted off the skillet to Voss’s prints,” Tommy said.

  “Let’s hope we get lucky,” Amanda said.

  “Guess we don’t need my decoy iron skillet now that Mel is dead,” Tommy said.

  “What?” Amanda asked.

  “I bought a lookalike skillet at Target and placed it in the Evidence Room with a tracker,” Tommy said.

  “Leave it in there,” Ryan said. “It ain’t over till the fat lady sings.”

  “Touché,” Amanda said.

  “The circumstantial evidence against Voss is pretty good,” Tommy said, “like leaving by the fire exit at the Scarlet. Why not use the front door if he was only going to Carlisle’s house to negotiate a deal?”

  “I agree,” Amanda said, “but that doesn’t mean he committed murder. So far, the best evidence we have is his admission that he was at Carlisle’s house the night of the murder.”

  “With Kara flipping out and shooting Frank, it certainly makes them both look guilty,” Ryan said.

  “Her rampage won’t be admissible during Voss’s trial though,” Amanda said.

  “What else did they get from Chris Galindez at the station?” Tommy asked.

  “He thinks Voss whacked Carlisle,” Ryan said.

  “Did Galindez know that Carlisle wanted to press sexual assault charges against Kara?” Amanda asked.

  “No,” Ryan said. “Galindez said that wasn’t part of their plan. Carlisle was acting on his own.”

  “My guess is that Carlisle thought of it as an insurance policy,” Amanda said. “If Kara didn’t pay, or tried to harm him, he at least would have the police looking into her. And he was right.”

  Ryan ran his hand through his thinning hair. “Well, I should probably return to the Hall. I have to call Carlos Montiago.”

  “That sounds uncomfortable,” Tommy said.

  “I want him to hear the circumstances surrounding Kara’s death directly from me.”

  “Very honorable of you,” Amanda said.

  “Be sure to tell him that she was shooting at everyone like a mad woman,” Tommy said.

  “And that she fell due to her own clumsiness,” Amanda added.

  “So noted,” Ryan said.

  “We’ll tell Frank you were here,” Tommy said.

  Ryan looked from Tommy to Amanda. “Thank you for handling this case the way you did. I appreciate your discretion.”

  Amanda knew he was referring to Lindsay. “No worries. We learned a few things that don’t need to become public.”

  “I’m in your debt.”

  “Nonsense,” she said. “We’re even.”

  “Losing their mother will be hard enough on Lindsay and Carlos, Jr.,” he said.

  “I feel for them,” Amanda said.

  “Me too,” Ryan said, looking down. He took a deep breath. “So, I won’t see you two for a couple of weeks.”

  “Personally, I’m looking forward to some time off,” Amanda said. “I’m not excited about returning to my office with Mel’s blood on the wall and Tommy’s blood on the carpet.”

  “Put some time and distance between what happened today and your return,” Ryan said.

  “Will do,” Tommy said.

  “Bye Ryan,” Amanda said.

  They watched Ryan return his tray and disappear up the stairs.

  ***

  Sunset District

  After Tommy and Amanda visited Frank, she insisted that he come over for a celebratory toast. He agreed only on condition that he stay overnight because he was in no condition to drive—and he secretly wanted to see Kristin in the morning.

  Sonja drove them to Amanda and Jen’s new house. They were met by Jen at the garage door. “Thank God, you’re both home!”

  “Hey, babe,” Amanda said.

  Jen hugged each in turn. “I’ve been worried sick. When I saw the news coverage of Kara Montiago dead on the street, my heart raced.”

  “Never fear,” Amanda said, “Tommy and I look out for each other.”

  “And Frank was nothing short of heroic,” Tommy said. “Of course, if it hadn’t been for Amanda’s quick thinking, shooting at Kara right away, Kara probably would’ve shot all three of us.”

  “Amanda was shooting again?!” Jen exclaimed.

  “I need a glass of wine,” Amanda said, making a beeline for the kitchen. “Want one Tommy?”

  Tommy put his arm around Jen, as they followed Amanda. “Can I sneak a peek at Kristin?”

  Jen stopped. “Of course. She’s sleeping. Come on up.”

  While Jen took Tommy upstairs, Amanda went to her wine refrigerator and selected a bottle of pinot noir. I need this more than I’ve needed a drink in a long time. Thank God Jen doesn’t care. Amanda uncorked the bottle and poured herself a full glass. The first sip tasted heavenly, the fruity taste an elixir for her soul. She took a healthy second drink, praying the liquid would work its magic. She had a momentary urge to pop a valium with it but dismissed it as old thinking. Most urges pass in seven minutes, Frank had said.

  She kicked off her shoes and turned on the news in time to see several photos of Kara, including her body being removed from the roof of the car. Kip Moynihan reported, “There was a shootout at the Voss & Baker Law Firm, resulting in Kara Montiago’s fall to her death. SFPD was at the scene and arrested Attorney Vincent Voss. Curiously, Montiago, a Presidential candidat
e, was wearing a green Zara jacket with, ‘I really don’t care, do you?’ written on the back.”

  The edges of Amanda’s lips turned up into a tiny smirk, reminding her that her jaw ached from Mel’s punch earlier that day. Just another day at the office. She gingerly traced her jaw line, locating the most tender spots, then went to the freezer for a bag of peas. While pressing the bag to her jaw, she again wondered why she did this job. Frank’s answer echoed in her mind: Because you’d be bored doing anything else.

  She saluted the air to Frank for his wisdom and drank more wine, willing herself to relax. While waiting for Tommy and Jen to join her, she foraged in the fridge and found a chunk of Molinari’s salami, Sartori Gold cheese, Kalamata olives, and a small brick of Humboldt Fog. She grabbed a ripened pear from a bowl on the counter and began slicing. By the time Tommy and Jen joined her, Amanda had a mini-charcuterie board prepared, and was holding the bag of frozen peas to her jaw.

  “Peas to go with your late night snack?” Jen asked.

  “Melanie really clocked me before Tommy shot her.”

  “Let me have a look.” Jen brushed the peas away and examined Amanda’s face.

  “Ouch,” Amanda said when Jen gently palpated her cheek.

  “You’re going to have a nasty bruise, but nothing feels broken,” Jen said.

  They held eye contact for a second before Amanda said, “Thanks for checking.” After returning the bag of peas to her face, she turned to Tommy. “Glass of wine?”

  “Have something stronger? My gunshot wound is reminding me that it’s angry.” He reached for cheese and salami with his good arm.

  “I have no idea,” Amanda said. “It’s our first night here.” She went to the cupboard above the fridge and found a bottle of Oban Scotch—Jack’s favorite. “Will this do?”

  “With a beer chaser,” Tommy said around a bite.

  “There’s Anchor Steam in the wine fridge,” Jen said.

  “Now the wine, sparkling water, and beer fridge,” Amanda said, fetching Tommy a beer. “Jen? Anything?”

  “I’ll pass, thanks. I have an early meeting tomorrow.”

  “In that case, Tommy and I can take care of Kristin, because we don’t have to go to work for a couple of weeks,” Amanda said.