The Virgin Whore Trial: A Holly Park Legal Thriller

by Brad Chisholm

  Holly nodded encouraging Kendall to continue.

  "I met Wolf when he was somewhere between down and out, spending the last of his charms for a bed and one more stake at the roulette table from a progressively diminishing pool of women. That pool being women who were less and less able to be selective in their escorts."

  A shadow momentarily dimmed her eyes, then Kendall Taylor smiled, sadly. "Everything takes on a difference significance with time."

  "What happened?" Holly asked carefully.

  "I was naive. I thought all men were like my previous husbands who were rich, generous, and kept me in a nice bubble. I gave to him as generously as I had received from my ex-husbands and never questioned anything. One day, I left for a business trip and when I returned he was gone. He just disappeared. He took everything I gave him and left. Expensive clothing, shoes, jewelry, money," her voice trailed. "Even the stables - particularly the stables - were empty. I couldn't get him on the phone. I even checked the obituaries. I waited to hear from him. I waited for some contact. For an explanation which never came."

  Kendall paused, her smooth face suddenly looking aged.

  "A year later, Wolf is in the society section of Town and Country magazine. The article described his wife, Alexis Lee, as the only child of a high society family in South Korea. Wolf was quoted in the article saying that if it weren't for his wife he would be a homeless has-been and he is eternally grateful to her. He conveniently leaves out that it was me, not this Alexis that picked him up when he was down and out.” Kendall’s nostrils flared slightly. "I have the article somewhere. I'll find it. You can read it yourself."

  "What did you do?" Holly asked carefully.

  "I did what any woman in my position would do," Kendall said. "I read the article a hundred times, studied the bitch's face, cried and took to my bed as if I had been shot through the heart."

  Kendall shook as she spoke and her face paled. "I was married to the man for five years, Holly. He never mentioned he had a daughter."

  She looked over to the counter. "Would you mind getting me a cup of coffee, please? Black."

  It was not a question. Holly went over to the cafe area and hurried back with two coffees, anxious to hear more.

  "One day he was just gone. Period. Gone without an explanation. He even took Lightning, the yearling I gave him for our third year wedding anniversary - Lightning was a special horse."

  Kendall gingerly sipped at the steaming hot coffee. Her face relaxed. Holly's mental picture of this woman was of one sipping fine espresso with a lemon zest in some cafe in Milan or Geneva. "It's hard to accept the person you thought you knew and loved is a total stranger."

  "What happened next?" Holly asked, tentatively. Kendall was quiet and reflective.

  "Often in life great drama is followed by… a great big fat nothing," Kendall said quietly. "I thought I would die from a broken heart. Then, strangely, I didn't. Anyway, a year later when Wolf - that's his first name - made the papers again - this time, for his arrest. I found out then the daughter was a step-daughter."

  Holly drew her breath in sharply.

  "This Alexis woman accused Wolf of raping her daughter and sent him to prison for fifteen years. He's served seven and has eight more to go."

  She paused here and looked at Holly, coolly. "Well, of course I heard from Wolf after he was arrested. He called, collect, of course asking me to post bail if you can believe it."

  "Did you?"

  "Of course not." Kendall replied, indignant. "But I stayed on the phone with him, waiting for him to explain why he left me, but all he did was ask for money. I know when he needs something his charm comes out. But it didn’t work. I didn’t help him and never heard from him again. Until last week when I get this.”

  Kendall's eyes flashed as she handed Holly the manila envelope. "Divorce papers," she said, her lips pulled tight. Seven years in a cell and he’s still trying to put his hands in my pockets. I’ve barely slept since I was served these papers."

  Kendall Taylor spoke softly but her eyes were mere slits. Holly felt a shiver go up her spine and she felt a little warm and faint.

  "We were divorced ten years ago. I am no longer his wife. I think he did this to get a reaction out of me. Because he needs money." Kendall tossed her head and her tone was rueful. "I am telling you this perfectly horrible story for a reason. Understand that I would be the first to walk Wolf Linser to the gallows, but... something doesn't add up, Holly. Wolf is a man, and therefore weak, perhaps he is weaker than most men, yet... young girls are not his taste. I know what my men like in bed."

  Kendall, as Holly was learning, was definitive. She lit a cigarette, Holly looked around to see if any of the hotel staff were about, but Kendall didn't care.

  "I hired a private investigator to research the background of this Alexis Lee bitch and her daughter. The records came up blank. No records exist."

  Kendall Taylor paused, dramatically, then continued.

  "Wolf is a precise, almost fussy man of particular tastes, in cigarettes, horses, soap, folding his t-shirts, wine... very European. I know his tastes and it's not for under-aged girls. He is a lot of bad things but he is not that sort of predator." Kendall tossed her head. "I am absolutely convinced that Alexis Lee is not who she claims to be.”

  "What is it you want me to do?"

  "I want you to find out why he did this silly thing of serving me with divorce papers first of all. What it is that he really wants.” Kendall leaned back and smiled. “That is the reason you will tell him you came to see him. What I really want you is for you to find out everything you can about the bitch and his affair with her. When Wolf met her, when the affair started, how long it lasted for starters. I want to know every fact and detail," Kendall Taylor growled.

  "What will you then?" Holly couldn't help asking.

  "I will find out track her down, pull her hair out and scratch her eyes out. A catfight which I assure you, will have but one winner. And it won't be that bitch."

  Kendall Taylor shook her golden mane and watched the smoke of her cigarette curl and disappear. There was sadness in her eyes. "Holly, I need to know once and for all whether our entire relationship was a lie, or whether he really loved me at one point, and if so, why he left. Then I can forget about him."

  Kendall Taylor stopped talking. She took a sip of her coffee and looked at Holly. Her eyes narrowed slightly, and she suddenly looked, different in a way Holly didn't understand. She reached for a very expensive looking handbag and pulled out a thick manila envelope which she slid it over to Holly.

  "Since I was 12 years old, no man has ever left me. I get tired of them and move on. It's always my decision. I leave them. They don't get to leave me."

  Kendall reached into her wallet and pulled out a roll of hundred dollar bills and folded them in half as she counted off a stack with her perfectly manicured nails and handed it to Holly. "You can send me a receipt and a retainer agreement." Kendall stopped and looked Holly. “There's one more thing you need to do," Kendall added almost as an afterthought. Her face softened. Almost like velvet. Her next words were spoken, barely above a whisper. She looked up, smiling. But it was not a happy smile. "I gifted Lighting to Wolf at a time I never dreamed of our marriage ending. I want Lightning back. By the time Wolf gets out of prison, Lightning will be too old to breed.”

  What could Holly say? She nodded her head, slowly.

  Kendall's voice was quiet. “It will take me about two weeks to get my files together. You’ll hear from me then. In the meantime, you should familiarize yourself with Wolf’s background.”

  Holly took a deep breath. "Is Wolf someone famous? Is he someone whose name I should know?"

  "Wolf Linser is - or perhaps was - a household name in the world of equestrian sports." Kendall Taylor began. "I dreamed of the day I could have such mastery of horses and ride as artistically as he," Kendall said. "That was our common bond when we first got together. When I met him he was a penniless has-been. I didn't
care. He was still handsome and athletic and charismatic and had a past that most men don't achieve in their entire lifetime. I respected that. He is an Olympian. Look him up.”

  After Holly left, Kendall Taylor lay back on her chaise and picked up her magazine and flipped through it absently then reached for her phone.

  "Isn't she perfect?" the voice asked on the other end.

  "Yes, Logan," Kendall Taylor answered, her voice relieved. "That was obvious within two seconds of meeting her. Wolf will trust her. Thank you."

  Chapter 11

  Kendall Taylor was right. Wolf Linser was a household name in equestrian sports and had won four Olympic medals. The photos were magnificent and Holly could see why Kendall had fallen in love with him. He was larger than life! As Holly sat in her office printing research articles, Mi Rae walked in carrying flowers from the Dumok.

  “Oh my!” Holly breathed. A dozen perfect long stemmed red roses from a florist in Beverly Hills. Even the smell of cheap Thai food drifting up through the vents could not overpower their exquisite scent and beauty. The card read: Thank you for your time today. It has been a long time since I met a woman's whose company I enjoyed so much. Please join me for dinner tomorrow night.

  There was an address and the time. The exquisite flowers somehow seemed out of place on the second hand credenza. Holly hoped the Dumok hadn't noticed the coffee rings on her desk.

  "Even roses have thorns," Kate cried, her electric eyes calculating, laughing, curious. The next night did not come quickly. Finally Holly pulled up to the blue and green valet umbrella in her black 3-series BMW coupe, a gift to herself when she got the job at Logan's firm.

  It was difficult to imagine that this building had once been condemned, with boarded up windows and graffiti. Now there was new glass, wood and stone with a line of expensive cars in front. The elegant sign read Anapji in Korean and Lake in English. The graphic was a blue oval with three green dots.

  Holly walked up the narrow ramp. Inside, a host greeted her, bowed low, and led Holly up a flight of winding narrow wooden stairs to a private room that overlooked the main dining hall. There was an outdoor patio shaded by palm trees surrounding a blue oval pond with three tiny green islands with dozens of floating candles. It was here at a balcony table where the Dumok sat, waiting. The Dumok rose as Holly approached.

  The table was set with crystal and beautiful porcelein. He stood, and pulled out the chair for her. He was dressed in an exquisite suit of the darkest navy, as dark as his eyes, with a white shirt and a somber charcoal gray tie.

  "The roses are so lovely. Thank you," The words tumbled out and Holly blushed, feeling shy. But the floating candles had a calming, hypnotic effect and Holly quickly felt herself relaxing in the Dumok's company.

  "The design is an homage to an ancient Korean kingdom of a thousand years ago called Silla," the Dumok explained as they got settled. "Perhaps even older, long before the Joseon era. The pond, which is replicated here, served as a place of repose for poets. The King ordered that cups of wine be floated in the water, to inspire the quiet of the mind that poetry requires."

  Holly nodded and took a deep breath and looked around. Dozens of tiny plates appeared by servers wearing the traditional hanbok (traditional Korean dress), the women bowing low, invisible yet ever present.

  "The design is authentic to the Korean tradition yet utterly modern in execution, a place of repose for all," the Dumok continued. He sat back, studying Holly. She was natural, not at all shy, and certainly pretty but without the hard edge often found together with great beauty. Most of all, though, it was her enthusiasm for life which he found attractive, for it was something he had lost long ago. Now, unexpectedly, the smallest flame flickered inside, and he was both amazed and curious about the girl who had lit it.

  "If you don't mind me asking," The Dumok started, "how is it that you ended up at American Legal Services?" The Dumok was polite in that very formal distancing way but his eyes were kind and concerned, and there was no malice in his question.

  "What - do you mean?" Holly stammered.

  "Kate Hong is an immigration broker. She charges exorbitant fees to fill out basic immigration forms," the Dumok told her. When Holly looked up in puzzlement, the Dumok laughed, in amazement. "Don't you know that? Kate Hong's only ability is that she can speak English to an illiterate clientele, and with immigration filings, it takes years for the mistakes to show up."

  Holly shook her head and felt her face flush. "I didn't know that."

  "Be careful," the Dumok warned. "People will have a bad impression if they think you work for that woman."

  Holly's head jerked back. Her father had said the same thing.

  The small church where Holly Park spent her childhood was beside the freeway and served as a portal, the first sign of Korean settlement to the latest arrivals. They wandered in, heads bowed, looking for help and hope. The red brick church fit into the backdrop of the littered and troubled streets. It would have been easily overlooked but for the large red cross on the roof that lit up the blackness of the night. It was a lifeline for those searching for salvation or a handout. Tales of weariness, regret, longing, hope and disappointment were told in hushed whispers at a time when no one else cared or listened. Of those who came through the doors, some were ruthless and self-centered, interpreting kindness as weakness, their heads bowed in false humility while their furtive eyes darted around seeing what was there for the taking. They stayed, while their children went to public schools and learned to speak English with oddly stilted phraseology and carefully rounded vowels. These new immigrants were predictable. At the first sign of affluence they left the church as quickly as they came, peeling out of the parking lot for what they hoped was the very last time.

  Pastor Park did not weigh intent. Modest meals of Korean soup and rice, instant coffee, oranges, and slices of watermelon were served each week, and an ear lent without judgment. There were others seeking fellowship and they were lifted. Somehow there were just enough of the faithful who stayed to make the soup and rice, sweep the floors, give guidance, and comfort to those in need.

  The Dumok had done his research on Holly Park and was attracted to her uncomplicated upbringing. He was weary of the artifice of his world and in Holly he found an innocence that he wanted to be a part of again. They talked. He enjoyed her lightness of heart, her rhythm and her ease as she moved from topic to topic.

  "You don't know the world at all, dearest Holly," The Dumok said, amused, his eyes assessing her. "The poor rarely go uptown, but the rich will inevitably end up on the wrong side of town through curiosity, perversity - or sheer bad luck."

  He scowled and reached for another cigarette and lit it. His voice had a soft texture that drew her in. The deference and formality of the servers to her host made Holly realize she was the guest of someone who had a reputation and status she did not know. Light classical music played in the background.

  "Have you noticed the streets of Koreatown resemble Danté's concentric circles of hell?" The Dumok asked. "The immigrant hell, of course, dreaming of freedom in America yet still constrained by the culture they left behind. Have you ever thought that when you enter this part of town, you have officially left America?"

  Holly looked over to the rundown apartment buildings lining the streets. It was in these tired buildings the immigrants lived, moving around in their shadow world with blinkered vision, preoccupied with their misery and the squalor that absorbed them. Holly knew very well. She saw it in the church every week.

  "Because the freedom they imagined in America is unfamiliar," Holly said, "so they begin to long for the comforts of home and they come back to Koreatown, searching."

  Holly found the Dumok's narrative intriguing, and tried not to say anything that would break his mood, wanting to understand him.

  "You were born in America so you are comfortable in your own skin, which means you don't feel the pressures immigrants feel. You sit here tonight with your polite manners, composure and
charming speech. You politely pick at your plate but are not interested in the food at all. When I came to your office, I was looking for a lawyer. Instead, I find myself in the presence of a lovely girl. Your head is full of law and schooling but in some ways you know nothing.”

  It was then the Dumok reached into his briefcase and pulled out a manila envelope. "A retainer. There is ten thousand dollars. There is more if you need it." As he handed Holly the envelope their fingers brushed. At this slightest touch Holly felt a sudden rush of need, want, and longing deep inside. Perhaps he sensed this, perhaps he felt it too, because in the next moment the Dumok was almost abrupt as he said, "Shall we go?"

  The glow of the lanterns cast shadows across the patio and they blew softly in the breeze. The Dumok reached over and brushed the windblown strands of hair away from Holly's face. The Dumok was a man's man, yet now, with the touch of his hands so gentle and light brushing against her skin, Holly could barely imagine the same hands in combat. The duality of the lightness in his touch against the jagged scar on his neck was exciting. Holly smiled inwardly, basking in his presence, wondering how the idea of his hands could be so sexy. It wasn't his hands. It was him.

  "Go home, now," The Dumok's voice was quiet but decided as they left the restaurant. "Thank you for your company," he said. Holly could feel the warmth of his breath inches away. The Dumok reached down and kissed Holly lightly and then he was gone. Holly stroked her cheek where he had kissed her, stroking the spot where his lips had touched her.

  Holly drove home, her head swimming with unanswerable questions, her heart filled with exuberance and the ache of the unknown. The streets were deserted. Two blocks away she saw a black and white squad car, parked, hiding and waiting, like a grizzly bear near a river scooping out salmon. The drunks never had a chance on this side of town. When Holly got home, she went to the kitchen and washed the coffee mug she had used that morning. She looked around. There was nothing else to do, so Holly went to bed but she couldn't sleep. She didn't know what it was but she couldn't stop thinking about the Dumok. She wondered whether it was about the scar or the sadness in his eyes that made her feel that way.