Sullivan’s Justice

by Nancy Taylor Rosenberg

  “Has anyone ever told you that you have a one-track mind?” Hank said, sick of her sexual innuendos. “Try giving me a straight answer. Could he have killed Laurel Goodwin?”

  Melody looked him straight in the eye. “Sure.”

  Chapter 14

  Friday, December 24—11:30 A.M.

  The Moreno sentencing was uneventful. Because of the incident with Brad, Raphael Moreno was not present in the courtroom. He watched the proceedings on closed-circuit TV.

  After advising the county operator to forward her calls, Carolyn went to Brad’s office. Sitting down at his desk, she picked up a stack of files from his in basket. Only seven cases, she thought. Covering for him would be easy. Pulling out a roster of probation officers, she read through a chart listing the cases that had already been assigned. She looked up when someone entered the room.

  “What happened to Preston?” a female clerk with short red hair asked, removing a large stack of file folders. “Someone said an inmate at the jail broke his back. Is that true?”

  “Not exactly,” Carolyn said, watching as the woman placed the files in her basket. She quickly counted them. She’d just received seventeen new cases to assign. “Is this abnormal?” she asked. “You know, are there always this many cases?”

  “Nah,” she said. “This is nothing. Twenty is average. Sometimes it’s as high as thirty.”

  Carolyn’s mouth fell open. “Every day?”

  “You got it,” the clerk said. “It’s probably light today because of the holiday.”

  Carolyn placed her head in her hands. She should have found out what was involved before she agreed to take over Brad’s position. What if Wilson was wrong and Brad didn’t return to work for six weeks? She’d have to analyze each officer’s workload, as well as their abilities. In addition, she had to read every report and approve the officers’ recommendations before they submitted them. Brad made decisions in an instant. She was far more meticulous. Dealing with people’s lives was serious business.

  Seeing Brad wasn’t that important, Carolyn thought, feeling overwhelmed. He had his racing-car buddies and his girlfriends. It was Christmas Eve. She needed to spend time with Paul and her children. She’d give Brad another day, hoping he could pick up some of the work while he was recovering. She wanted to do a good job. If she screwed things up, she’d jeopardize her chances of being promoted.

  Carolyn called Vincent Bernini’s office and spoke with his secretary. The woman informed her not to expect a response until after the holiday. Stuffing as many files as she could into her briefcase, she decided to go home and make an attempt to salvage Christmas.

  At a few minutes past eight that evening, Carolyn, John, Rebecca, and Paul’s thirteen-year-old daughter, Lucy, were gathered around the Christmas tree. After his confrontation with Melody and the media that morning, Neil had taken off to spend the night at their mother’s place in Camarillo. The police had impounded the Ferrari and he wasn’t allowed back on his property to pick up the van. Paul lent him his extra car, an older blue BMW.

  The kids didn’t want to wait until Christmas morning to open their presents. The floor was littered with wrapping paper and boxes.

  Rebecca held up a red sweater trimmed with fake fur. “This is adorable, Mom,” she said, putting it on to see if it fit. “Most of the things you buy me are hideous.” Inside another box were matching red ankle boots.

  Carolyn had given John a used laptop computer. “I really needed this,” he said, walking over and kissing her on the cheek. “Are we going to get DSL now?”

  “No,” his mother said, sinking into the sofa. No matter what she gave her kids, they always wanted more. Lucy never asked for anything. When Carolyn had pointed this out to Rebecca, her daughter hissed at her, like a cat confronting a dog, “Why would she? She has everything. She even has her own American Express card.”

  Carolyn turned her attention back to her son. “You’re lucky I found a computer I could afford. DSL would cost five hundred dollars a year. That’s more than our budget allows. Maybe when you get a job.”

  Their meal had been wonderful. Isobel, Paul’s live-in housekeeper, had made turkey with all the trimmings, along with two homemade pies, one chocolate and the other pecan. Around nine, Lucy asked Rebecca to spend the night. John had already made plans to stay with his friend Turner Highland.

  Once the girls were in bed and the trash collected, Paul walked over and embraced her. “Why don’t we go to your place?” he said, brushing a strand of hair off her forehead. “Your kids aren’t there. We’ll have the house to ourselves.”

  Carolyn frowned. “You know how I feel about that, Paul. We can’t make love at my house. John or Rebecca might come home for some reason and walk in on us. We have to be even more careful now that John drives.”

  “Calm down,” he said. “I won’t mention it again. We’ll go to my place in Pasadena. If we leave right away, we should be there in an hour. We can spend the night and come back early tomorrow morning. The girls have already opened their gifts. Lucy told me they were going to sleep in.”

  Carolyn was more than ready for an evening of pleasure. Unnoticed even by herself, she was stroking the bottom of her bra with her thumb. It had been too long. “What are we going to tell Isobel?”

  “Come on, honey,” Paul said, scowling. “You act like we’re teenagers.” He took her hand and led her into the kitchen. “We’re going for a drive, Isobel. If you need to reach us, call me on my cell phone.”

  “What?” she said, placing her hands on her ample hips. “I just had the phone turned back on at the Pasadena house.”

  Carolyn’s face flushed in embarrassment. She ducked behind Paul. Isobel had been with the professor for nineteen years. She was the boss of the house and didn’t mind voicing her opinion. Having recently turned sixty, she was a tall, wiry black woman with a mind almost as sharp as her employer’s. Just like Paul and his daughter, Carolyn had come to think of her as a second mother. How did she know they were going to Pasadena?

  “What you hiding for, woman?” Isobel asked her. “You think I don’t know what you two are up to? Wish I wasn’t so old or I’d get me some loving. Now get on out of here before I make you clean up the dishes.”

  Pacing the floor in her bra and panties, Melody breathed shallowly. She tipped the bottle of scotch. Finding it empty, she let it fall onto the floor. Her life was out of control and there was no one to help her. Nobody to hold her and make the pain go away.

  Going to the penthouse level, which she called her viewing room, she removed a large box. Inside were two smaller boxes. One contained Lego pieces, and the other held a silver charm bracelet. Her real name was inscribed on the heart-shaped charm—Jessica Graham.

  Jeremy was dead.

  The charm bracelet was Jeremy’s last gift on that terrible night before Christmas. She had worshipped her brother. He was the only one who had truly loved her. Melody and Jeremy were more than just siblings, they were best friends. He was her stability in an unstable and emotionally deprived childhood. Eighteen long years had passed since his death. Her eyes welled up with tears. Alone, she thought to herself. Alone on Christmas Eve once again.

  Every year, she pulled out the bracelet and held it in her hands. Rubbing the shiny silver heart with her index finger and thumb made her feel as if Jeremy were still alive. He’d promised to buy her more charms. Each time she looked at the heart, though, she was also reminded that there wouldn’t be any more. Her father had taken him away from her. The police told her that he’d cut out Jeremy’s heart in an attempt to save him. When her father shot her mother in a blind rage, Jeremy was caught in the cross fire. Her brother died trying to protect their mother.

  She dumped the Lego pieces out, sobbing as she began building a castle. Unlike their last night together, she had all the pieces. As soon as she finished, she stood and kicked out, scattering the pieces across the room. Her life was broken. Like the castle, every time she rebuilt it, it was repeatedly knocked down
. Staggering across the room, she tripped on the wastebasket and almost fell.

  Her attachment to Neil had grown strong. Because he was such a wonderful brother to Carolyn, she had begun to see him as an older version of Jeremy. Her brother had always looked out for her, protected her when her mother went on a binge, listened to her fears and dreams. She had thought Neil could step in where Jeremy had left off and find a way to heal her shattered heart.

  Like everyone else, Neil had abandoned her. The only ones who stayed with her were the men who were after her money. She could spot them before they opened their mouths. When she was younger, she’d let them take advantage of her. Now she insisted that they treat her as they would any other woman. If they invited her to dinner, they paid the bill. When they traveled together, they split everything down the middle. If they complained, she told them to get lost. Why should she foot the bill just because she was wealthy? She wasn’t anyone’s damn meal ticket.

  Melody hated the closeness between Carolyn and Neil. Jealousy of their relationship raged deep in her soul. In many ways, Carolyn was what she could have become if not for the tragedy that had taken her brother and destroyed her family.

  Neil spoke of the hours he and Carolyn spent together. His sister was always there for him, and he for her. Why did he need to be with his sister and her children so much? His priorities were all screwed up. He needed to spend more time with her.

  The Sullivans were a perfect family, something Melody would never have. Even their mother was smart. Marie Sullivan held a master’s degree in chemistry. The father had died, but they still had warm memories of him.

  Melody’s childhood had been lonely and tainted by violence. She squatted down on the plush carpeting again. Tears fell from her eyes as she picked up the Lego pieces and placed them back in the box. Her mother had staggered through each day in an alcohol-induced haze. Her father had been a good man, a doctor. That all changed the night he’d shot her mother and brother. He was then sentenced to prison for thirty years. She didn’t communicate with him. How could she? He had tried to blame everything on her. As far as she was concerned, she didn’t have a father. He’d gone to prison and eventually he would be released. She would never be released. She’d been sentenced to a life of misery, sleeping next to the demons that continually taunted her.

  She reached for the empty bottle, then collapsed, the room spinning around her. Her eyelids flickered as she felt herself drifting through time. Eighteen years disappeared and she found herself in the cold, frightening house of her childhood. When she saw Jeremy’s face, she was filled with joy.

  “Where are the rest of the pieces?” her brother asked, looking at the partially completed castle he was building for his sister. A stream of profanity erupted from their parents’ bedroom. At fifteen, Jeremy could escape by spending the night with one of his friends. Jessica was only nine. Although she could go to her friends’ houses during the day, she was not allowed to have sleepovers. She hated it when her brother left, especially when her mother and father were fighting.

  She was dressed in her pink flannel pajamas with the embroidered silk collar. They had become too small for her, but she refused to wear her new ones because they weren’t as soft. Stretched out on her stomach on the floor, she pedaled her feet in the air. She had inherited her mother’s strawberry blond hair, and her nose and cheeks were dotted with freckles. There were vague memories of a time when her mother had been pretty. She certainly wasn’t pretty now. Her eyes were always puffy and red, her mascara smeared, her breath reeking of alcohol. Jessica loved her mother, but lately she’d grown to despise her.

  She rolled a Lego piece between her index finger and her thumb. “Mama might have thrown some of the castle pieces away,” she told him, resting her head on her fist. “She got mad at me yesterday because I didn’t put them all back in the box.”

  “Why did she do that?” Jeremy said, annoyed. “Mom trained you to drop your toys on the floor. We’re too rich to pick up after ourselves, that’s Mrs. Mott’s job. Even Dad says the same thing. All he wants us to do is study. Money can’t buy intelligence.”

  “I don’t care about the castle, anyway,” Jessica said. “We live in a stupid castle.”

  “Be grateful that you have a roof over your head and food to eat. Think of all the kids who’re cold and starving.”

  She fell silent for a few moments, chewing on the ragged skin around her cuticles. “Melody’s parents won’t let her come over anymore.”

  “I thought you didn’t like that girl.”

  “Mel brags too much,” she told him. “I still play with her, though. All the other kids live too far away.” She stopped and put her hand inside the waistband of her tight pajamas. “People know Mama isn’t right, Jeremy. Dad doesn’t think they do, but they do.”

  The town kids called them stuck-up and spoiled. Jessica would have preferred a shack, something small and cozy, with a mother who cooked their meals, washed their clothes, and loved her children more than she loved a bottle. Jessica had tried to take it away from her one time and her mother had knocked her to the ground.

  Six months earlier, her father had ordered the servants to leave the premises by six. The Grahams were society people. He couldn’t allow the help to see his wife drunk. Even Mrs. Mott had been forbidden to play with her. Jessica didn’t care. She was certain the nanny was a witch who’d put a spell on her mother to make her sick.

  “Go to bed,” Jeremy said, pushing himself to his feet. “It’s past nine o’clock.”

  Two pale blue eyes peered up at him. “School’s out for Christmas vacation, remember? Mama said I could stay up as late as I want.”

  “You do what I say,” Jeremy snapped at her, pointing at his chest. “Mom isn’t right, okay? She might tell you to jump off a cliff or stick your head in the oven. Listen to me or Dad.”

  No matter how often their parents fought, the children never got used to it. It was Christmas Eve and they were going at it again. The room fell silent. Jessica had tears in her eyes. Her brother walked over and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry I got mad. Want to watch a movie? You like It’s a Wonderful Life, that old movie they play every Christmas. We have the video. We could go upstairs and watch it in the theater.”

  “You know I’m scared of the third floor,” she said. “Something terrible happened up there. Daddy said if I ever go up there again, he’ll send me away forever.” She went to her dresser and pulled out a stack of Swiss chocolate bars, tied up with a gold ribbon.

  “Why do you tell so many lies, Jess?” her brother said, the sounds from their parents’ room growing louder. “That’s the reason you don’t have any friends.”

  Jessica refused to answer. They’d talked about this a dozen times. Since her mother lied, she assumed it was okay.

  “I guess we’ll watch the movie here, then.”

  The house was as large as a hotel, but they all lived in the left wing on the second floor. Jessica’s room had been her mother’s bedroom as a child. It was located next to their parents’ room. Outside of the few years she’d attended college, Phillipa Grace Waldheim Graham had never lived anywhere but this house.

  “We don’t even have a Christmas tree,” she said. “Do you think they bought us any presents?”

  “Of course,” Jeremy told her, although his expression said he wasn’t certain.

  Their father, a cardiologist, worked long hours in Manhattan. She knew he had probably forgotten to buy them any gifts. They had everything, anyway.

  “I got you a special present,” her brother said. “Do you want me to give it to you now?”

  “Yes,” Jessica said, smiling as she clapped her hands. “But I didn’t get you anything. I asked Mama to take me to the store. She said it was too cold and she didn’t want me to get sick.”

  “Wait here,” Jeremy told her, leaving to go to his room.

  When he returned, he handed her a small box. He watched as she eagerly ripped off the wrapping pa
per. Inside was a silver charm bracelet. With only one heart-shaped charm dangling from it, it looked naked.

  “It’s beautiful,” she said, her face glowing. “Hearts mean love.”

  “Look at the back.”

  The girl turned the charm over and found her name engraved in the silver. “You’re the most wonderful brother in the world,” she said, walking over and hugging him. “I love you so-o-o much.”

  “I love you, too, Jess. Every year, I’ll buy you another charm.”

  A few minutes passed and the smell of the chocolate got her attention. Jessica began methodically unwrapping the chocolate bars, her slender fingers as agile as her father’s. Dr. Graham’s emphasis on learning had paid off. She read at a high-school level, and she was far above average in subjects such as math and science. Her father had mentioned several times that she might one day become a surgeon like himself.

  She laid out the candy wrappers side by side, then used each bar to shape bricks into various sizes. “See,” she said, licking her chocolate-covered fingers. “If you hadn’t torn down the castle, we could have finished it with these.”

  Something heavy crashed against the wall. Her mother must have thrown a lamp or a vase. Jeremy inserted the movie in the VCR, depressed the play button, then turned up the volume to block the noise.

  As far as she knew, her father had never hit her mother. Unless she got drunk and went on a rampage, Dr. Graham was a soft-spoken and loving father, a man who would do anything for his family.

  When she heard another thud against the wall, Jeremy hit the mute button on the remote control. It sounded like her mother was moaning. He asked Jessica to stay there, but she refused. They left the room to find out what had happened. When they reached their parents’ room, they found it locked. Jeremy pounded on the wood with his fists. When there was no response, her brother insisted they go back to her room. Before they walked away, it became quiet. Jeremy told Jessica the argument had either ended or her mother had passed out.