by Sean Russell
Barry and Isaac had maintained their friendship over the years. Isaac even built Barry’s first house and later a block of apartments. Isaac, as was his way, gave Barry value for money and delivered on time, and because Barry was a friend he cut costs where he could and did not charge his usual mark up. He had never asked for anything in return except legal advice and advice for Phil’s development. He never asked for favours. It was not Isaac’s way.
When Isaac got the news about Phil being arrested and gave himself time to think, the first number he called was Barry’s.
“Hi Barry, Isaac here. How are you? Can you talk?”
“Hi Isaac. Sure. I always have time for you.”
“I will get straight to the point. I am really disturbed.
My son Phil has been arrested.”
“What! What for?”
“I don’t know.”
“What??” Barry was seated at his desk in his chambers. His face expressed concern.
“I haven’t spoken to Phil. One of my workers saw Phil being picked up at the hospital.”
“What was he doing there? Why did they pick him up there? Did he look hurt or as if he had been in a scuffle?”
Isaac felt embarrassed.
“You know Barry, I didn’t think to ask. I assume if anything else had looked out of the norm my man would have told me. To be frank, the call itself caught me off guard.”
“You know this man? This was not a mischievous call?”
“I know him. He’s one of my workers. He’s a good man.”
“Do you trust him?”
“Yes. I have no reason not to.”
“Isaac you would be surprised at the agendas people have that you would not expect them to have.
But in my world I have the opportunity to see some of the worst of human nature, so I am often quite skeptical. Especially in cases like this.”
“Like this?”
“Phil is a good man. I know him. He’s your son.
I’ve seen him work. He’s a man of principle. He’s not a man to give the police a reason to pick him up.
Something is wrong here.”
“That’s why I called you. I wanted your advice. I am not sure what to do.”
“My friend, have no fear. I am giving this matter my full attention. I am going to make some calls as soon as we finish this conversation. Trust me on two things.
One, Phil will be home tonight. Two, I am going to find out who is the culprit of all this mischief.”
“Thanks, Barry. I appreciate it.”
“Not at all my friend. I will call you soon with some good news.”
“Okay.”
Isaac put the phone down, relief evident in his face, and then his body as he relaxed. He made a few more calls. He still had business to attend to.
*****
Phil was in Central Police Station for barely ten minutes before the station sergeant called the two officers to him. It was a short, animated discussion.
The shorter of the two officers walked up to Phil.
“Mr. Ferguson, I have been informed that there’s a problem with the cells here. We will not be keeping you here. It could be a health risk. You will be allowed home on bail and your own recognizance, but you will need to surrender your passport here within the next sixty minutes.”
Phil could not believe it. If he did not know better, he would swear he was living someone else’s life.
Questions ran through his mind. What problem in the jail cells? What health problem? Released on bail? Just like that after they had whisked him off the hospital compound? He was no fool. Nobody was going to insult his intelligence. These questions needed answering. He was ready to pose them. By the time he was finished, the officer in front of if him would look like a school boy after his headmaster has berated him for having a simple lack of common sense. Phil was ready to unleash his assault of verbal weapons.
He didn’t. He was in a police station, not a courtroom. He was a defendant, not a lawyer.
He would be better served seeking the answers to these questions when he was safely outside the police station and when he was on the right side of the law.
* * *
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Jade was feeling better physically, but not emotionally. Her head no longer felt as if it was used as the football in a soccer match. She was due to be discharged later that day. The doctors were satisfied that she was in no danger and there was nothing in her treatment that required hospital care. Rest and analgesics were her prescription. She was now in a quandary. She had a mission before the accident and therefore a plan of action; a purpose. Now that she had nearly lost her life, things had changed.
News, whether good or bad, travels fast in the Caribbean. The worse it is, the faster it travels. Phil was arrested for attempted murder. He had tried to kill her. Why? It could only be those pictures. Jimmy Cadogan had to have sent them to Phil. The dog. And Phil tried to kill her? Phil could be passionate, but no... could he have been so incensed that he would try to kill her? Hold up. The accident was the attempt?
If so, how did he get to the car? He could have sent someone. Wrong answer again. First, he would not take the chance to involve anyone in such a thing.
He could not trust anyone to do something like that.
Second, he did not know where she was. Hang on…
back to one. That woman he was sleeping with, maybe it was more than she thought. Maybe they wanted to be together and she, Jade, was in the way. Get a hold of yourself girl. You’ve been watching too many Lifetime movies. The whole thing is absurd.
One conclusion Jade did come to: she was going to have to talk to Phil face to face, and soon. She wondered where he was. Was he in jail? Perish the thought. That would kill him and his family. Even if he was arrested, he would be out in no time. Perhaps she should call and find out what’s going on and arrange to meet him. She wanted to call him there and then, but she was not sure where her phone was, and she did not have the energy to get up and look for it. She would get back to that. She drifted off to sleep.
*****
“We have a serious problem.”
“I know that Dad.”
Phil was sitting with his father on the patio at the back of the house, a few feet away from the pool.
It was around ten thirty in the morning. It was an unusual place for Phil to be at that time of day. Even on weekends he was often busy with work and had no time to appreciate the backyard pool which was designed to be a small haven. High pittosporum hedges afforded lush protection from curious eyes as they formed the perimeter of the backyard. Closer to the pool, an organized arrangement of flora designed to intoxicate the mind with nature’s floral beauty, did just that with hues of green, yellow and purple blending in wonderful harmony. The mosaic tiles which formed a simple, yet elegant pattern along the sides of the pool and on the pool’s floor added its own man-made contribution. The morning sun reflected off the shallow ripples as an easterly breeze blew on the surface of the water. Even though Phil sat in plain view of this beside his father, he saw none of it—his mind was elsewhere.
“What do you think is going on here?”
“Someone has it in for me.”
“Can you think of anyone?”
“No.”
“There is no one you had a bad situation with, no one who may feel hard done by you?” Phil thought of two possibilities, but he dismissed them. There was no need to confuse his Dad with his private affairs.
“No.”
“We are going to have to fight this on two fronts.
Legally and non-legally.”
Phil’s face registered a question mark.
“Surely you don’t mean anything illegal, Dad.” Isaac allowed himself to smile. “I said non-legal, not illegal.”
“I didn’t know if you were using a euphemism.”
“Son, you know me by now. I say what I mean.”
“So what do you mean?” Phil leaned forward and looked in his father’
s eyes as he said this.
“Apart from fighting the case in court with the Director of Public Prosecutions, we have to fight to find out who is setting you up, and why, and we have to make sure they stop this nonsense and as much as possible and retract these accusations that serve to sully your reputation.”
Phil nodded. “Agreed.”
Isaac faced his son and held his gaze.
“You are going to have to reflect on the happenings in your life over the past few years dispassionately.
You will have to ignore your emotions and be honest with yourself. It’s very likely the answer or a clue to your troubles will be there.”
Phil shook his head in agreement.
“Remember, this is not a dress rehearsal, this is your life. Here and now.” Isaac got up. “I’m off. Not much more we can do here and now. I will work on things on my end and keep in touch with you. You do the same.”
Phil stood up.
His Dad spoke again. “When is the case?”
“Five days from today.”
“We have a lot to do in a little time.”
“Trust me, I’m well aware, Dad.”
“Good. As I said, I’m off.“
He walked his father out and watched him drive away.
Phil was bemused. His father seemed to know more than he was letting on. Phil wondered how much he knew, what he knew. It really didn’t matter. Isaac Ferguson was one person on this earth that he could trust. Isaac would always have his best interests at heart. He needed to focus now on how best to help himself. He suddenly remembered that he needed to return a call to this police detective, Clarke. The message was a bit cryptic, but Phil felt he needed to check it out.
*****
Isaac was reviewing the expenses for the week. He was at his desk examining the invoices and receipts, making sure everything tallied and made sense. The phone rang. It was Barry.
“Hello Isaac, how are you?”
“I am as well as can be. How are you?”
“I’m well, but I’m afraid I don’t have good news for you.”
“Excuse me. What are you talking about? When last we spoke you assured me that everything was fine.
You said that the case against Phil was baseless and that you would get to the bottom of this conspiracy.”
“Isaac, I did say that. But admittedly I said that in ignorance based on my perception of Phil and what I know about you. The evidence that has turned up against your boy is overwhelming. He’s going to prison. If by some miracle he escapes conviction his reputation is going to be ruined. It will be pointless him practising in this island. Maybe you should consider getting him out of the country. Phil’s bright.
He can start over and make a lot of money in another country.”
“Barry… are you suggesting I encourage my son to be a fugitive?” Isaac had thrown his glasses down on the desk and was wiping his brow.
“Isaac, based on the evidence that has been presented, I am telling you as a friend… get Phil out of here.”
“What?!”
“Isaac. I’ve already spoken too much out of turn.
I have to go. By the way, I will not be available subsequent to this conversation for ethical reasons.
You know, me being a magistrate. I’m sorry…”
“Barry!”
Isaac held the phone until the incessant sound of the dial tone began to burn his ear. He could not believe the conversation he just had. He was going to have to take some time to cool down and think about what had just transpired. The problem was, Isaac did not have a lot of time. More directly, Phil did not have a lot of time. The case was the day after tomorrow.
The meeting with the investors for the twenty million dollar Caribbean Paradise project was the following week. Isaac had heard murmurings that they were not happy and they were looking at another construction company to do the project. Phil’s case was no secret despite the Fergusons’ efforts to make it one. The association was not good for Premier Construction.
This case being heard in public court would mean the end of the association between Caribbean Paradise and Premier Construction. Foreign investors were often quite finicky. They wanted no news back home that the attorney who normally conducted business for the company they contracted to build for them was on trial for attempted murder. They just did not need that publicity.
* * *
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Jimmy was pleased with himself. He was scoring all his goals. Things were going according to plan. The only thing he had not gotten was Amanda. She refused to sleep with him. He had tried every trick in the book and some new ones he made up, but she would not bite. He had to have her. She was outstanding; even better with her clothes off and more exquisite when she was being fucked. He knew. He had it recorded.
Poor fool… she did still serve a purpose. She must have thought she put one over him when he agreed to discount the lease on the condo she occupied. She had no idea he had the whole place rigged with cameras and microphones which were microsized to the extent that it was easy to hide them—they were virtually undetectable. He could monitor and document all the goings-on in her apartment. He smiled to himself. She was probably still unaware that he had her encounter with Phil recorded. That poor fool would have been too proud and embarrassed to confront her about it. She was fiery enough that if she knew she would tackle her landlord who owned lots of real estate, but no scruples.
The Fergusons were falling fast. They were going to lose out on their twenty million dollar contract. Phil was going to prison and they would be summarily disgraced. Phil’s imprisonment meant that he would not be practicing law. Jimmy would snap up not only the now unrepresented clients, but the talented partners Phil had acquired. To think all that was just the fringe benefits. Jimmy smiled to himself. I am the puppet master, I pull all the strings and everyone jumps at my command.
* * *
CHAPTER TWENTY
Bill Michaels was the new item in New York and he had the look this year. It was is if he just knew what the fashion world wanted. He had that mixed look where you weren’t quite sure of his ethnic origins.
He was light-brown in complexion, like a well-tanned Caucasian, with curly hair which he kept cropped short and dyed platinum blond, accentuated by a very neat, thin goatee which was also blond. He had clean, neat features with a slightly square jaw. He was garbed in olive green slacks and a white linen shirt, both of which he designed.
He was seated at a table on the sidewalk, awaiting his order. The shrimp scampi was said to be delightful at this place and he was really looking forward to it.
It was his first time there, and his eyes wandered ceaselessly, taking in his surroundings—a typical sidewalk café that decorated many street corners in Manhattan. It was a good evening to be out, as evidenced by the fact that all the seats were taken, and the staff was hustling to keep up with the demands of their patrons.
Bill felt good. The glass of merlot was a pleasant surprise. The bar did not have his usual choice, but he was going to have to make a note of this one.
He liked sitting on his own with a wonderful glass of wine to stimulate his palate as he anticipated a delicious meal. His ideas started to flow as he took in the metropolitan rat race around him: people of all races, shapes and sizes, some headed to work, some to leisure, others running away from work or other things, but all having something in common that was of particular interest to Bill. They all wore clothes. There was something about the harmony of movement of all those people in their varying shapes, sizes, colours, and textures. Together with the mellowing effect of the merlot, this stimulated his mind and caused him to fall into a hypnotized state where designs came to him in shocking clarity. He kept this habit a secret; he did not share this pastime with anyone, and as a result he had developed the reputation of being snobbish and reclusive, as many times he would avoid meeting people in his quest to have his very pleasurable and productive quiet time. Fortunately, the reputation did not really h
urt his business. In fact, it was expected that a top fashion designer would have quirks. Which great artist didn’t?
Bill was beginning to get that sweet, dreamy feeling that preceded a potent fashion conception when he was disturbed by a woman. She was young, and it was that clear that she had been striking once, and still believed she had it, but it was also clear she had hit very hard times. Her hair was brushed and styled, but that coily nature of the roots and the flat, dull appearance of the longer strands told the story that they had not seen the inside of a salon for quite some time. Her clothes were neat but not clean, and hung a little too easily on her frame, telling another story—
that there had been more to fill them when the owner had chosen to buy them, and again that choice would have taken place further in the past than the owner would have liked to admit. Her accent announced her as coming from one of the islands. Which one, Bill couldn’t tell. He was not interested now and didn’t want to speak to her.
Initially he was very annoyed and was about to have the proverbial how-dare-you-disturb-a-celebrity fit when he saw the manager scampering to his rescue.
This vision subdued him. He was being rescued and he knew that if he blew up he would not get back into his ‘zone’.
“You need to leave immediately. You are disturbing this gentleman.”
She looked at the manager and saw the firmness in his demeanor. He was ready to bodily put her out.
She was crushed. She had recognized Bill Michaels and she knew that if she could let him see her shine, he would want her to model his clothes. It was over.
She sauntered off, a portrait of dejection.
Amanda saw the manager going towards Bill. She had to act quickly; this might be her only chance.
Time had about run out, as had her money.
Bill felt a poignant stab of pity for the woman as she quietly withdrew. Maybe if he had seen her a couple months earlier before she got so beaten down and worn. He wanted someone fresh and new, someone special, and she was not it. That was even more clear as she sadly disappeared from view, swallowed by the perpetual sea of pedestrians.
