Love, Lies & The D.A.

by Rohman, Rebecca

“The police do want to talk to you, but any talking will have to be through him.”

  “I don’t want to seem uncooperative. I want this solved as much as they do.”

  “Listen to me, Jada. Until we know what their angle is, you need to stay silent. Spouses are always the first suspect in this sort of crime. You don’t want to give them evidence that can be used against you.”

  “How do I help?”

  “Talk through your lawyer. That’s why you hire an attorney.”

  Bobby’s been very quiet since he got off the phone with Charles. It makes me wonder if there is something else he’s not telling me. We’ve always been able to read each other well. I know my instincts are right.

  “What aren’t you telling me?” I ask.

  “Nothing, Sis. I have a lot on my mind,” he replies as his fingers vigorously move over his laptop. We both sit at the kitchen island.

  “I know you might be trying to protect me, but you have to tell me what it is.”

  He takes a deep breath and places his hand on mine.

  “I think you should be prepared for the media attention that this case is pulling. Everyone is looking for answers, and when people don’t know, they speculate. They’re likely to sensationalize this case.”

  “Are the media saying I have something to do with this?”

  “They’re not saying that directly, but they’re definitely insinuating it. The timing of your breakup and his subsequent death has people asking many questions. For them, it’s good TV. You’re beautiful, self-made, and rich. He is good looking and the CEO of one on the largest banks on the West Coast. They don’t care about your reputation, or your business; all they care about in this are their ratings.”

  “Should I worry?”

  “I don’t want you to worry, but you should be prepared. Jada, in cases like this, prosecutors and the police often feel pressure from the public and the media to make an arrest. In some cases, they get it right. In many, they’re wrong. I know you’re innocent in this. But don’t be surprised if the police have you under investigation.”

  “I’m afraid… I’m afraid that the man I thought I knew and the man that I fell in love with was completely nonexistent.”

  “I hate to admit it, but I think with all the signs so far, when this is solved, you will find out things about him that you didn’t know. This wasn’t a random act. This was intentional, and by the look of it, he pissed someone off.”

  “I wonder if Koto knows anything.”

  “Who knows? If you need to talk to anybody about anything in this case, you talk to either Charles or me. I will get you a secure line. If you’re not talking, they may tap your phone lines.”

  “I don’t want to talk about this anymore… Are you going to show me pictures of your red hot chili pepper?”

  He laughs. I rest my head on his shoulder, and I get my first introduction to Valencia Suarez.

  * * *

  It’s been a rough and long day at the office. I can’t wait to get out of these clothes. After a refreshing shower, I check the warming drawer to see what Floria fixed for dinner, and I put my feet up on the coffee table to see what’s on TV.

  As I flip through the channels, her face fills my TV screen. Jada McLean. On three separate channels. I immediately turn up the volume to hear the news report.

  “Her ex was murdered? Fuck!”

  I flip through the various channels. They’re suggesting that she did this. If I have to rely on my lawyer instincts, she could never do such a thing. I know I’ve known her for maybe five seconds, but I can’t see her doing this.

  Dad’s face now occupies the screen, and at the same time, my phone rings. It’s him. Talk about synchronicity.

  “Dad… I’m looking at you on my TV. You’re representing Jada?”

  “Yes. Her brother is a lawyer. I got a call from him early this morning.”

  “I know you can’t talk about this, but is she okay?”

  “What do you think? The woman’s been through the worst weekend of her life. She’s scared, confused, and she’s hurting.”

  “God.”

  “She told me she met you this weekend?”

  “She did?”

  “Didn’t you?”

  “I did. We had dinner together at David’s house. I’m just surprised she mentioned me.”

  “Well, I asked her what she did this weekend. You know what we do.”

  “Do you think she’ll be okay?”

  “I hope so. She was very distraught when I spoke to her. Her brother is with her now. I think she’ll be fine. You like her, don’t you?”

  I can’t believe that my father asked me that. I hesitate.

  “You don’t have to answer. You’re my son… I know you—not that you’re not being completely obvious. Just so you know, she likes you too. She just doesn’t know it yet.”

  “Why? What did she say?”

  He laughs. “Lawyer-client confidentiality.”

  “I should have known you’d respond that way. Dad, you believe in her?”

  It’s my way of asking how he feels about her guilt or innocence.

  “I do. I like her a lot. She’s real… honest. I’m looking forward to meeting her in person.”

  “She’s feisty… and extremely beautiful.”

  “She is. I’ve seen her around. I think your mom and I stayed at one of her properties one time when we went to Seattle.”

  “Well, I’m glad that you’re involved at this stage. Hopefully, she won’t require your services much longer.”

  “I hope you’re right, Son, because for the first time, it’s possible that you and I will end up face to face on opposite sides of the courtroom.”

  The thought alone makes me nervous. More and more as I think about it, I hope that this is some horrible mistake and hope the media has all their facts wrong.

  We talk about the reason he was calling in the first place. After I end the call, I have to admit that I can’t get Jada McLean, and the troubles that face her, out of my mind. I feel even guiltier now about that last conversation we had. That night, I barely sleep.

  * * *

  The next morning, I have a long conversation with Ian. Reporters have been calling, the police have been calling, and more and more it looks like Richard’s murder is slowly becoming a public relations nightmare for my business and me.

  I feel guilty as I try to figure out the best way to handle this. My ex-fiancé is dead, and here I am trying to make sure my business isn’t affected. However, my business is my baby, my livelihood, so I press on and confer with my PR department. Charles also assigns someone to handle questions from the press. So for now, that has been handled.

  After Bobby gets some work out of the way, we spend the afternoon on a boat tour of the lake. It’s a welcome change. The last few days have been extraordinarily overwhelming, yet I am so thankful. If Bobby hadn’t come, I don’t know that I’d be able to handle any of this.

  I think about heading back to San Francisco. A trip that I intended to be relaxing and a prelude to my fresh start has become very stressful. I don’t know if it makes a difference whether I am in San Francisco or Lake Tahoe. That said, the media would definitely be more in my face if I were there.

  I find it hard to relax for very long. I may be present for maybe five minutes then my mind drifts back to everything that has happened since last Thursday.

  My phone rings, interrupting my thoughts. It’s Charles.

  “Hi.”

  “Jada. How are you today? Better, I hope.”

  “I think I’ll be better when this is over.”

  “I thought you should know that the police have secured a search warrant for both your penthouse and office.”

  “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. Do you know what they are looking for?”

  “A weapon, documentation shared between you and Mr. Preston. One of my employees has gone to oversee the search at your office. I am at your penthouse. I suggest you allow your staff to leave
during this process. They may try to interview them. They are not bound to answer any questions that the officers may have.”

  “Will I know what they’ve confiscated?”

  “Yes. We will be taking a note of everything.”

  “Okay. Let me call Ian. You’ll be in touch later?”

  “I will.”

  I immediately call Ian with instructions. Bobby looks sadly at me. He can figure out what is happening. After our not-so-relaxing tour, he warns me that if the police know where I am, they may very well execute a search warrant here as well. The only thing they could take that would bother, more so inconvenience me is my laptop.

  Once I get to the house, I back up my entire laptop to a virtual storage site online. So does Bobby. In the event they visit while he’s with me, they may confiscate his as well.

  I hate the way this has interrupted his life. He has given up so much of his time for me. In an attempt to show him how much I love and appreciate him, I make us dinner, and we enjoy it on the terrace.

  We finish dinner, and while Bobby talks to Valencia, I clean the kitchen and pack the dishwasher. Suddenly, out of nowhere, I remember…

  “Oh my God.”

  My loud outburst gets Bobby’s attention.

  “What is it?” he asks, covering the mouthpiece of the phone.

  “I just remembered. I deleted several emails from both Richard and Koto on Friday.”

  “What did they say?”

  “I never read them. I didn’t even open them.”

  “Val, honey, let me call you back.”

  He immediately calls Charles after ending the call. They have a brief conversation, and then he turns to me and says, “Those emails could have important information in them.”

  “Do you know if we might be able to retrieve them?”

  “I’ve seen instances where they have, and I’ve seen instances where they haven’t.”

  “Oh God.” I take a deep breath and run to the counter for my phone. “Bobby, they’re all here. I haven’t deleted anything off my phone.”

  He holds me by the shoulders, pulls me in his arms, and kisses me on my forehead. I scroll through the messages, and there they are. I forward all of them to Bobby and Charles. All the messages are variations of ‘I’m sorry.’ All but one. However, for the life of me, I have absolutely no clue what it means.

  To : Jada McLean

  From: Richard Preston

  Date: Thursday, 19 September 2013, 8:45PM

  Subject: 1114-9711– RCS

  I’m sorry. That’s all I can say for now.

  I get the ‘I’m sorry’ part, but it’s the subject—that baffles me. I have absolutely no clue what any of this means. Maybe it’s some type of code or account number. It’s going to take a brain bigger than mine to figure this out.

  Bobby’s phone rings; it’s Charles. He puts the phone on speaker.

  “They didn’t take much from your penthouse, Jada, but the same can’t be said about your office. Most of your staff has their computers, but they confiscated the one in your office and your secretary’s. Do you have any clue what they might be looking for?”

  “No. My taxes are paid. I run a legitimate business. I don’t even own a firearm… I have no clue. It might have something to do with that last email from Richard. But I really don’t know what that is in the subject.”

  “When the detective was leaving, he made a comment. ‘All this and it’s still not enough.’ He seemed to be implying that you had Richard killed for money.”

  “That’s ludicrous. Don’t the police have to tell you what so-called evidence they have?”

  “Not until they actually charge you with something. Until then, they can keep whatever information they have to themselves. But I think, at this point, we need to conduct a pre-file investigation.”

  “What’s that?”

  “It’s when your attorney represents you in an early stage of the investigation, before formal charges are actually filed by a prosecutor. Much like what we’re doing now. The point is to prevent the filing of any criminal charges against you.”

  “How do you do that?” I ask.

  “We do research, investigate, and counsel you regarding the investigation. I have a meeting with two of the best PI’s I know tomorrow. I will contact the police early and try to intervene. I can also put legal pressure on them to avoid further investigation and, often, redirect accusations, thereby informally resolving the case by alternative means.”

  Bobby continues, “The key is to attempt to keep criminal charges from being filed. If criminal prosecution is inevitable, it can assist you with a voluntary surrender to avoid a public arrest and to assist you with arranging for bail so that you do not remain in custody.”

  “And this is the best way to move forward?” I ask.

  “Yes,” Charles and Bobby chorus.

  “Do they know exactly when he was killed? I left San Francisco Thursday night. Doesn’t that take me out of the equation? That email was sent from him after I left San Francisco.”

  “No. Until we have a coroner’s report with an approximate time of death, we can’t use that as your defense.”

  “How long will it take before that report is out?”

  “It can sometimes take several weeks.”

  “Just great. Do you know who the last person to see him was or who found him?”

  “No. They’re tight-lipped about everything. However, they’re under intense pressure from the media. In the coming days, they may be forced to send out a press release that might give us some clues or details of what they have. I think we’ve done all we can do for now. Good thinking with those emails… We’ll be in touch tomorrow.”

  “Thanks, Charles,” Bobby and I simultaneously reply then end the call.

  “Big Brother. Thank you for today. I think I’m going to head to bed.”

  “Okay, Sweetie.”

  “Before I turn in, can I get you anything?”

  “Just a hug.”

  I wake the next morning to the smell of Bobby’s special omelet. My tummy grumbles as I step out of bed.

  I take a quick shower, dress, and head out to see what he is up to.

  “Good morning,” he sings as he carries two plates over to the terrace.

  “Hi. You’re mighty chipper this morning. It’s a welcome change from all of the recent doom and gloom, though.”

  “Well, Sis. I have something up my sleeve. A plan. I need you to help me,” he says, holding my hand and ushering me to the table.

  “Anything for you. What?”

  “Well, I have some good news first. My case has been pushed to Monday afternoon, so I can stay till Sunday evening if you like.”

  “Yippee. Won’t Val miss you?”

  “She’s on call this weekend at the hospital. That’s where you come in. I really wanted you to meet her first, but I want to ask her to marry me.”

  “Really?” I feel intensely happy at that moment.

  “Is this too much for you right now?”

  “No!” I exclaim. “This is such a welcome distraction, you wouldn’t believe.”

  “Great! Well, if you’re up for it, I was thinking we could probably take a drive to Reno, and you could help me pick a ring.”

  “I’d love to.”

  “Does it bother you that you haven’t met her?”

  “No. I can see how happy she makes you, and that’s really all that matters. All I care about is your happiness. Mommy’s the one you need to worry about.”

  “Well, I was thinking since she’s off the next weekend, I could fly down for the weekend, introduce her to Mom, and propose to her there.”

  “Wow. Mr. Romantic. That’s quite the change from the man-whore I remember.”

  Within an hour, we take the magnificent scenic drive to Reno. Today is a little on the chilly side, but over the mountains, not a cloud is in the flawless skies. This place must be lovely when it snows. I hope I get to see it that way before I have to head back to the cat
astrophe that awaits me in San Francisco.

  Suddenly, it dawns on me that there will be a funeral soon, and I wonder if it’s an event I should be a part of. Should I attend? Would I be welcome? In my heart of hearts, when I saw Richard that last day and said goodbye, that was honestly my goodbye. At that time, no part of me ever felt we would get back together. Even if he were alive, I still would feel that way. However, him being dead, especially under those circumstances and literally within days or hours, who knows, of our breakup, I’m not sure what is expected or appropriate.

  A change of scenery snaps me back to the present. As we approach the city limits, the scene has changed from lush green covered mountains to arid desert.

  I’m sure there are rattlesnakes here, uhhh.

  We are in Nevada. I’ve never been here before, so today is a new experience. One I am happy to share with my brother. I am thankful for him. I enjoy being driven. I love my car and I like driving it, but sometimes, especially with everything that’s been on my mind of late, it’s nice to be chauffeured.

  We are now in the city. My brother can’t contain his excitement. I’ve never seen him like this—he’s happy. From the GPS screen, it looks like we’ll arrive at our destination shortly. Before I know it, he holds my hand as if I’m a small child, and we cross the parking lot and enter the store. A sales associate immediately makes eye contact and smiles as she approaches us.

  “You two look so in love,” she says.

  I laugh. “We’re in love alright, but the ring’s not for me. I’m his sister. I’m here to help him pick one out.”

  “Okay, let me show you what we have.”

  After much discussion, and a healthy dent in Bobby’s bank account, we head to lunch. Then we hit the road to return to Lake Tahoe. I’m so tired. Perhaps I should take a nap.

  I feel Bobby poking at me.

  “Jada, wake up.”

  I realize we’re at the house. The place is loaded with cops. They’re about to burst through the door, but the sight of the car stops them, and all weapons are now angled toward us.

  An officer approaches the car and opens my door.