“What?” Bob asked.
“The key to my office building. The one with the little red ladybugs on it. It’s not on your key chain.”
“Oh, I don’t know. This is my spare set, I guess. I only had one of your keys. One set doesn’t have your key on it.”
Sabre frowned at the thought of her office key being lost. “Are you sure you still have it?”
“Of course. I’m always misplacing my keys. That’s why I have a second set.” Bob squeezed her shoulder. “Don’t worry, Sobs. They’ll show up. They always do.”
Chapter 5
JP sat in his home office and read every report, minute order, and motion filed on the Foreman case at least three times searching for some clue that might indicate why there was a body in Sabre’s office. He didn’t really expect to find the answer in the dependency file, but he hoped something in the file would provide a lead. Besides, he had a dual purpose in his investigation. He also had to help Sabre find the best placement for the children. There were so many people he needed to speak with on this case, but most were off limits for one reason or another. Foreman’s wife, Dana, was too upset right now and she didn’t have to answer any of his questions even if she could. He’d speak to the children, Marcus and Riley, but he didn’t want to put them through any avoidable grief. His best hope was that Bob might be able to shed some light on the case. He had an appointment to meet with Dana’s stepfather, Frank Davis, in about an hour and a half, followed by one with the children’s grandmother, Celia. He had time to see Bob first if he left now.
JP poured a mug of coffee for the road, half decaf and half regular, put on his Stetson, and picked up the folder Sabre had given him. Louie, his beagle puppy, followed him from room to room, wagging his tail, and waited for an invitation to go for a ride.
“Come on,” JP said, as he opened the door and went out into the perfect morning air. June in San Diego often meant the sky would be overcast and fog would roll in, but this was East County and warmer than the beach areas. There wasn’t as much moisture in the air. JP enjoyed the beach on occasion, but he felt more comfortable in this part of town where the cowboys and the rednecks lived.
JP looked at his watch as he drove up Jamacha Road. It was nearly 7:30 a.m. on a Saturday morning. He had already been up for about two and half hours. He hadn’t called Bob, but they were good enough friends that he could just drop in. Their friendship went way back—before Bob became an attorney, before the private eye business, and before JP met Sabre.
He recalled the time he first met Bob. JP was still on the force and Bob was in his first year of law school. It was the end of the first semester and everyone was celebrating. JP was on a stakeout next door to the house where a group of law students chose to party. Bob was drunk and stumbled into the yard JP had under surveillance. He could’ve gotten himself killed and blown JP’s cover. Instead, JP handcuffed him and put him in the car. It ended the stakeout and the police arrived to check on the wild party.
Instead of handing him over to the police, JP drove him home. Bob was living with his divorced sister at the time. JP was younger and more impulsive then and although he wasn’t there very long, it was long enough to meet Bob’s sister. They dated for almost two years, but it ended badly. During that time, Bob and JP became good friends and remained so throughout the years.
JP drove up the steep, narrow street that led to Bob’s house. He knew it was early, but this wasn’t unusual. He had gone to Bob’s house on Saturday mornings many times before. Louie paced back and forth from one window to the other in the back seat as JP pulled into the driveway. When JP opened the door for him, Louie bounced out of the car and ran directly for the back yard.
“Good morning, Louie,” Bob said, as he reached down and scratched the dog’s head. He was holding his cigarette with his left hand up and away from the dog.
JP knew Bob’s habits, and it was about time for Bob to be in his back yard so he followed Louie past the side of the house and into the yard. JP stepped onto the patio that he had helped Bob build a few years earlier.
“Hi, JP. Nice to see you this morning,” Bob said.
Just then Alfie, Bob’s white Bichon Frise and poodle mix dog, dashed across the yard toward Bob, Louie, and JP, wagging its stub of a tail on his square body. JP reached down and patted him on the head as he nuzzled up against his leg.
“Mornin’,” JP said. He didn’t feel a need to explain why he stopped by, so he didn’t. “Hi, Alfie.” Alfie wagged his stubby tail and then shuffled off. “I swear Alfie walks like a mechanical dog. Are you sure he doesn’t run on batteries?”
Bob laughed and watched Louie tackle Alfie. The two dogs rolled around, and then Alfie sped off with Louie chasing closely behind.
“Have a seat,” Bob said, glancing at JP’s coffee mug. “Does that need heating up?”
“No, I’m good for now. Thanks.”
They sat there talking and watching the dogs play. It didn’t take long before the conversation turned to what occupied both of their minds—the dead guy. This whole case left JP uneasy. Two people he cared a great deal for were somehow connected to what looked like a murder. This could only mean trouble.
“The obvious connection between you, Sabre, and George Foreman, is the juvenile dependency case. I know he was your client’s husband, but he was also the father of Sabre’s clients, so it may not have anything to do with you. Even if we take you out of the equation, the juvenile case is still the only common ground for Sabre and Foreman.”
“True. I just somehow feel responsible. I can’t help but think that if we hadn’t met at Sabre’s office, his body wouldn’t have shown up there.”
“Don’t be making statements like that to the cops or you’ll be their primary suspect.” JP understood the reason for Bob’s guilt. “Have you found Sabre’s key yet?”
“No.” Bob shook his head. “I found my other set of keys, but it wasn’t on there. I sure can’t remember taking it off my keychain. What if it was my key they used to unlock the door? What if Sabre had been there?”
“Well, she wasn’t. The locks have already been changed and chances are your key is just lost. You’ve never been able to keep track of things.”
They sat in silence for a few minutes. JP watched the concern grow on Bob’s face. He knew how important Sabre was to Bob. She was his best friend and his work wife. Having worked together at juvenile court for over five years, he spent more time with her than he did with his wife, Marilee. JP was certain there wasn’t anything romantic between them. In fact, Bob spent a great deal of time ineffectively playing matchmaker for JP with Sabre. His lack of success in getting them together was not because JP wasn’t interested. He was. JP was confident in everything he did, except in matters of the heart. Somewhere along the line, he had lost that confidence. He didn’t know if it was because past relationships had failed or if it was because he didn’t think he measured up to Sabre. And he was nearly eighteen years older than her. That bothered him.
Bob’s relationship with Sabre resembled what you’d see between a brother and sister who grew up actually liking one another. JP knew for a fact that Bob liked Sabre more than he did his own sister. Their relationship was based on complete trust and although JP and Bob were close friends, he knew Bob shared things with Sabre he couldn’t even tell him. Perhaps it was because she was a better listener than him. After all, he had heard that many times from women in past relationships.
Bob broke their silence. “Have you checked to see if Sabre had a previous case that involved him?”
“Yeah, nothing there that I could find anyway.”
“Do you have any theories as to what happened to Foreman?”
“The guy was a user. Maybe it was just a drug deal gone bad.”
“But you don’t really believe that, do you?”
JP shook his head. “It doesn’t explain why he was killed in Sabre’s office.”
“Do you think someone is trying to frame her for murder?”
“That’s true. And there’s no reason for Sabre to want him dead.”
“Maybe someone was after him for something totally unrelated to the juvenile case, and they followed him there and just took the opportunity to off him. Which brings up the question of why Foreman would be going to Sabre’s office at all?” Louie ran up to JP, who reached down and scratched the dog’s head. Alfie darted toward Louie and the two of them bounded off.
“Maybe Foreman thought there was something in Sabre’s case file that would help him some way.”
“That’s possible. Another scenario is that someone lured him there, in which case they were probably making a statement.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. If we examine the juvenile case, the only one who appears to have anything to gain is his wife, your client.”
“You think Dana may have killed him?” Bob walked over to a can full of sand sitting on a stone table and stuck his burning cigarette butt into it.
“No, I’m just saying no good motives have surfaced yet, unless you know something that might shed some light on it. I realize you have a confidentiality issue here that might prevent you from telling me something.”
“If I had something that would help Sabre, I’d tell you. You know me better than that. I just don’t see it. Dana doesn’t have a strong motive. There’s no financial gain, nor will she gain custody of the children with him gone.”
“That’s what I thought. So unless it was a crime of passion, why would she kill him? There are just too many questions. And why were they in Sabre’s office?”
“Yeah, why not somewhere that he wouldn’t be easily found?” Bob said.
“I just know it wasn’t Sabre. But if his death is related to the juvenile case, then the killer knows Sabre and wanted to cause her trouble of some sort—either to frame her for murder or at the very least, to cause emotional pain.”
Chapter 6
Just the name La Jolla sounded expensive and stuffy to JP, which is why he seldom went there. The closer he drove toward the water the more it reinforced his beliefs. The more expensive the house, the more windows it seemed to have. He zigzagged through small streets until he found the street and the house number for Frank and Celia Davis, Dana Foreman’s mother and stepfather. Frank Davis’ house had plenty of windows. He pulled into the long driveway and parked in front. Their house would make his look like an outhouse.
JP stepped out of the car onto the interlocking pavers that covered the circular driveway and walked up to the massive beveled-glass entry. He thought the pavers probably cost more than the flooring in his entire house. JP walked up to the front door and rang the bell, half expecting a servant to answer, but instead Mr. Davis opened the door and invited him in. They exchanged greetings and Frank led JP through the vast living room filled with green furniture and expensive paintings and into the sunroom, where they could see the waves breaking and the white foam as it dissipated when it floated back out to sea. The water lay directly below the edge of the cliff upon which the house sat. Off to either side within less than a quarter mile were gorgeous beaches with high-rise hotels.
“Have a seat,” Frank said.
JP sat where he had a good view of the water. Then he realized there were so many windows, every seat in the sunroom had a good view. Frank sat across from him.
“Where are the boys this morning?” JP asked.
“Still sleeping. They would sleep until noon if I let them, but the house rule is that they need to be up by ten on Saturday. Sunday we go to church, so today is the only day they get to sleep in.”
“And their grandmother? Does she get to sleep in, too?”
Frank smiled. “Not usually, but she woke up with a migraine this morning. I told her to just get some rest. Keeping up with the boys is a lot of work. Don’t get me wrong, she’s great with them. It’s just been a whirlwind and it can be pretty stressful, but we wouldn’t have it any other way,” he continued, as if he thought he may have said something wrong.
“It’s okay. As I told you on the phone, I work with Sabre Brown, the attorney for Marcus and Riley. Ms. Brown just wants to make sure the boys end up in the best placement for them.”
“That’s all we want as well. I’m very attached to those boys. They are as much my grandchildren as if they were my own.” When Frank spoke about the children, his usual businesslike manner mellowed a bit. He sat forward in his chair as if he were about to stand up. “Would you like some coffee? I need a cup myself.”
“Yes, thank you. Just black, please.”
While Frank was gone, JP gazed out at the water. The sky was overcast and although he couldn’t see very far, what he could see was spectacular. Frank returned shortly with two cups of black coffee and handed one to JP.
“Thanks.” JP took a sip of some of the best coffee he had tasted in a while. “How long have you been part of the family, Frank?”
“Around twenty years. Dana was only nine when I met her mother. Such a beautiful little girl with her flaming red hair and hazel eyes. I helped raise her and helped spoil her, I suppose. I’m afraid I gave her more material things than I should have and so I take some responsibility for where she’s at today.”
“You mean her drug use?”
“Not her drug use, per se, but her bad choices. She grew up privileged. Her mother wanted her to have the best of everything. I don’t blame her. So did I. It’s just in retrospect maybe it wasn’t the best thing to do.”
“When did she start using drugs?”
“Looking back, we think she started drinking and using marijuana when she was around fourteen or fifteen years old. We didn’t realize it at the time. We just knew she was acting out and at first we thought she was just being a typical teenager.”
“What was she doing?”
“Her grades dropped from A’s to B’s. She skipped school once in a while. She wore too much makeup and her clothing became a little provocative. That really bothered her mother. But her behavior wasn’t like some of the troubled teenagers we had heard about. We thought it would all pass.”
“But then?” JP took a long drink of his coffee, enjoying it all the way down.
“Then it got worse and Dana really started rebelling. She started staying out all night and she was so nasty to her mother. She would call her awful names and refuse to do anything Celia asked. One night we received a call that she had been picked up and was being held at juvenile hall.”
“For what?”
Frank stood up, walked closer to the glass, and looked out. “She and some friends were playing some kind of drinking game where they would dare each other to do things. Dana was caught in someone’s backyard trying to break into a shed. The police charged her with trespass, attempted burglary, and for being under the influence.”
“Did they make a true finding on the charges?” JP asked.
“No. I hired an attorney and he managed to get everything dropped. I’m not sure now that that was the best thing to do, but her mother had become so distraught at the idea of Dana spending one more night in juvenile hall. I just did what I could.”
“Did she have any other bouts with the law?”
“Not really, but it was shortly after that we discovered she was pregnant. Her mother wanted her to have an abortion, but it was already too late. We considered putting her in a facility, but she begged us not to and we finally agreed to keep her at home under certain conditions.”
“What conditions?”
Frank sat back down. “First, no drug or alcohol use. We had to protect that baby even if she didn’t realize the importance of it. Second, we didn’t want her to have any contact with George Foreman. But Dana wanted us to sign so she could marry him. She thought they could move in with us after the wedding. We were miles apart on that one because he was a bad influence on her. She fi
nally agreed to stay without him. And while she wasn’t supposed to be having any contact with him, we know she was. We just couldn’t watch her every minute.”
“How long did she live with you?”
“She and Riley lived with us until her eighteenth birthday. Riley was about six months old at the time. Dana moved out, married George, and for a while wouldn’t even let us have any contact with the baby. It was so hard on us because his grandmother and I had both become very attached to him. Celia wanted to give her money to help her, but I was very adamant about not supporting her lifestyle. I told Celia that she’d come around when things became bad enough and then she would listen to reason.”
“Did she?”
“She started asking for money for Riley, but we knew she wanted it for herself and for George. We offered to take Riley in with us until they could get on their feet, but they wouldn’t do that. Don’t get me wrong, they weren’t living on the streets or anything. We wouldn’t have let that happen, not with a baby. Dana just didn’t have the luxuries she was used to. Then she became pregnant with Marcus and she started to come around a bit. We started helping more and soon we were getting to spend time with the children. I knew we were buying time with them, but it seemed to be the only way we could help the babies and it made such a big difference to Celia.”
“Were Dana and George using drugs then?”
“I don’t think so. When they were young, they indulged primarily in alcohol, maybe some pot. The serious drug use didn’t seem to start until a few years ago. I don’t know for sure, they may have been using all along, but it wasn’t until a couple of years back when it became severe enough to affect their daily life.”
“How bad did it get?” JP asked.
“They both lost their jobs—first Dana, then George. They were way behind on their rent and down to one car that only ran on occasion. We begged them to let us take the kids in, but they wouldn’t because the kids meant income to them. Dana received welfare for them and they used the children as a bargaining chip with us. They trusted that we’d continue to give them money for the kids.”
Adv04 - The Advocate's Dilemma Page 3
