03_Cornered Coyote

by Dianne Harman

  An hour later, he made a pot of coffee, looked at his watch, and decided to get the calls to his parents over with. It was almost 9:30 on the East Coast.

  “Hi dad. Just wanted to wish you a Merry Christmas.” He paused as he listened to his father. “What do I have going on today? Well, I’ve been meaning to tell you, but I’ve really been busy.”

  “Yes, Jordan. I heard about the Police Commission. They contacted me for a statement. Was there something else you wanted to tell me?”

  “You knew and never said anything? Thanks. Dad, I don’t quite know how to go about telling you what else is going on.” He took a deep breath and then told his father everything that had happened from the time he’d gone to Provence up to this morning. “She’s not guilty, dad. There’s some reporter who has it in for both of us. I’m pretty sure the DA felt he had to charge her or risk losing his re-election. I think she’ll be acquitted. You’ll like her. She’s a wonderful, loving person.”

  “Jordan, I’m sure I’ll like her. I trust your judgment. Sounds to me like she really needs you now. I agree with you on this Police Commission thing. I don’t think you could have acted otherwise. Is there anything I can do to help? Want me to come out there?”

  “No, but thanks, dad. It’s just that I know Maria came back here to California because of me and then bingo, she gets arrested almost the moment she steps off the plane. I feel like it’s all my fault.”

  “Don’t beat yourself up, son. It was her choice to come back. Got a good attorney for her?”

  “Yeah, he’s one of the best.”

  “Well, that’s about all you can do. Just be there for her. This can’t be an easy time for either of you. Love you, Jordan. Remember, if you need me, I’ll be there.”

  That’s a first. Don’t think he’s ever told me he loves me. Wonder if he’s feeling guilty for leaving mom and my brother and me. Well, one down and one to go.

  “Merry Christmas, mom. Couldn’t let the day go by without calling you. What are you doing today, going anywhere special, or having friends in?”

  “We’re celebrating Christmas at our home. Jordan, I’ve been meaning to call you. A friend of mine has a daughter who lives in Los Angeles. She read an article about a Jordan Kramer in a tabloid called the Celebrity Spotlight and wondered if it was you. Was it?”

  “Yes, mom. I was going to tell you about it the next time we talked. There’s a reporter who has it in for me. The article is full of half-truths and lies.”

  “Well, it’s pretty embarrassing when my friends know more about my son than I do,” she said icily, “and that woman, Maria, seems to only care about her looks and money. I hear she’s living with you and has been arrested for murdering her husband. Is that true?”

  “She’s been arrested for murder, mom, so technically that’s correct. I’m sure she’s going to be acquitted. She fired the gun that killed her husband, but he was going to kill her, so she acted in self-defense.”

  “Jordan, let me give you a little motherly advice. Get rid of her. You don’t need a woman like her in your life. I don’t want my friends to think my son is living with a murderer. Find a woman who didn’t kill her husband. I’ve got to get ready for dinner. Merry Christmas.”

  After she ended the call and hung up, Jordan looked at the phone in his hand. Well, so much for compassion and believing in me. Glad she lives in Florida and now I remember why I never bother to go there for the holidays. No wonder dad left her.

  The one hour drive to the Robert Presley Detention Center was easy with very little traffic on the freeways on Christmas Day. The mountains surrounding Los Angeles looked like powdered sugar had been sprinkled on them and for once the air was crystal clear and clean.

  He pulled into the parking lot west of the main gate. Jordan had called yesterday and arranged to visit Maria at ten this morning. He looked at his watch. Check-in began sixty minutes before the visit, so he was right on schedule.

  Jordan stopped at the reception counter and showed his ID to the guard who checked him off the list and told him to go to the visitor check-in. The clanging sound made by the steel door as it closed behind him never failed to rattle him. He always wondered what would happen if there was a riot and you were one of the hapless visitors at the jail when it happened. He took his belt off and emptied his pockets for the security check. The guard waved him through and another guard opened the door to the visitors’ room. He sat down in a small cubicle and within minutes Maria was escorted to the opposite side of the barred window.

  “Oh Maria, I’d give anything to have you on this side so I could hold you and tell you how much I love you. This is not how I wanted to spend our first Christmas together. You look tired. Are you able to sleep at all?”

  “I talked to a doctor yesterday and told him I hadn’t been sleeping well and that I’d been feeling depressed. He gave me a pill to take. It’s supposed to help me sleep and also act as an anti-depressant. I slept soundly last night, so it must have worked. Jordan, I don’t know how much longer I can go on. This is worse than anything I’ve ever been through, not knowing if this is how the rest of my life is going to be. If it is, I don’t want to live anymore.”

  “Maria, I know this is really hard for you, but hang in there. We’re with you. Brian’s doing an amazing job.”

  “He’s visited me several times. He tells me I have a very good chance of being acquitted. I like him and I’m glad he’s representing me.”

  “Maria, there’s something I need to tell you. Remember that little girl we met at the Yount’s home in Provence, Noor? Well, Pierre and Madame Sevy are bringing a group of orphans to California on the 29th. She called and asked if I could meet them at the airport. I thought about it and decided to do it. I called a client of mine who’s a plastic surgeon and he’ll operate on that horrible scar on Noor’s face. Darya’s administrative assistant, Mahsa, has a sister who just arrived from Afghanistan, and she’s willing to take care of Noor before and after her surgery.”

  “Jordan, I think that’s wonderful and she definitely needs to have that surgery. I hope Mahsa’s sister knows how to take care of little girls.”

  “Yes. Darya told me she has five younger sisters, so I’m sure she’ll be fine.”

  “Oh, Jordan, I wish I could go to the airport with you to meet her. You’ll need to get a car seat for her for the drive to Mahsa’s. Sometimes I wish we’d never met. I’ve made your life a living hell. I’m so sorry.”

  “No, Maria, I wasn’t really living before I met you. Now every one of my senses is alive. I wish none of this had happened, but it did. Things will work out soon.”

  “I love you, Jordan. Merry Christmas.”

  “And you, too, my love.” They blew each other a kiss and he left, but not without noticing that her beautiful eyes were filled with unshed tears.

  * * * * *

  The following morning Jordan woke up disoriented, trying to figure out where he was. He was nude, lying in bed, and sensed that someone was lying next to him. He looked over at a woman he didn’t recognize. While he was staring at her, the events of the night before came flooding back, like a bad dream. His head felt like it was going to explode from the drum roll taking place behind his eyeballs. His tongue was furry and his mouth was so dry he had trouble swallowing. He remembered feeling sorry for himself and deciding to have dinner and a couple of drinks at a restaurant not too far from his house. His recollection was pretty hazy about what happened after the first few drinks.

  Jesus, what have I done? I’ve got to get out of here, get home, take some aspirin, and get some sleep. I can’t believe I had sex with some anonymous woman while Maria’s in jail. What kind of a man does that? Only someone really sick and depraved. Plus, as drunk as I must have been, if I’d been pulled over and arrested, the Police Commission would have fired me. Oh yeah, nothing about last night was smart. Merry Christmas, Jordan, you dumb shit.

  He quietly got dressed and let himself out of the apartment. Jordan spotted his ca
r parked up the street. The cool early morning air began to clear his head. He wondered if he’d told the woman his name and given her his sad story. He hoped he hadn’t said anything about the Celebrity Spotlight, the tabloid. Hopefully, I was nothing more to her than a warm body willing to share her bed on Christmas night, not a ticket to seeing herself in print.

  He opened the garage door, glad to be home. A couple of aspirin and a few hours’ sleep and he’d be fine. At least that’s what he told himself. He refused to be depressed. Yes, he’d been put on administrative leave, yes, he’d had meaningless sex, and yes, the woman he loved was in jail. Life couldn’t get much worse. He looked forward to sleeping and forgetting all of it.

  CHAPTER 24

  Madame Sevy told Jordan that the plane bringing the little girls to the United States would land at the Long Beach airport at 1:30 p.m. Jordan wasn’t prepared for the range of emotions he felt. First, happiness that Noor would soon be here in California and then sadness that Maria wasn’t with him to greet Noor. His emotions were on a roller coaster.

  He arrived at the airport half an hour before the plane was expected to land and noticed the two church vans, identifiable by their lettering. Jordan walked up to the man who appeared to be in charge and introduced himself.

  “I was told you would be picking up one of the little girls and taking her to a friend’s home for a while,” the man said. “I understand she’ll be undergoing surgery soon. Here’s my card and when you feel she’s sufficiently recovered from the surgery, let me know. I’ll have someone from the church pick her up and we’ll make arrangements to take her to a foster home. I held off making a final decision on her placement because of the surgery.”

  “Thank you and here’s my card as well. If you have any questions, feel free to call me.”

  I know these people are doing a good thing, but how many places do these little girls have to go before they finally find someone who will love them and take them in?

  Jordan paced the length of the car, back and forth, back and forth, and with each minute his nervousness increased. At the appointed time he saw a dark spot in the sky coming in from the east. As it got closer to the airport, he saw that it was a private jet. As soon as the door opened, he watched the little girls come down the steps of the plane led by Madame Sevy.

  Noor was holding the hand of an older man as she carefully put her feet on the steps. When she got to the bottom of the stairs, she looked around. Jordan half-walked half-jogged over to her. She raised her arms up instinctively as he picked her up. Once she was in his arms, she put her head on his shoulder, and promptly fell asleep. The man who had been holding her hand spoke to Jordan.

  “I thought it was about time we met. I’m Pierre Yount. Thank you for everything you’ve done. I’m sorry to hear about the problems you and Maria are having, but I’m sure you’ll be reinstated to the police force and Maria will be found innocent. Darya’s been filling me in. Here’s Noor’s suitcase. There’s not much in it, but Madame Sevy told me she has a favorite blanket she likes to sleep with. Here’s my telephone number. When things quiet down, I’d like to invite you and Maria to Darya’s home and I’ll prepare dinner. I’ll wait to hear from you,” he said.

  "Will do, and thank you for everything," replied Jordan.

  Jordan put Noor in the child’s car seat he had bought as Maria had suggested. She opened her eyes as he fumbled with the clasp, smiled at him, and then closed her eyes again. When he got in, he looked over at the vacant passenger seat, wishing Maria was with him. He knew if Maria had been with him they’d be on their way to his home, rather than on their way to Mahsa’s.

  CHAPTER 25

  When Slade called Barbara, she picked up her phone on the first ring.

  “Hello, Jack. How do we proceed? What do you want me to do?”

  Giving her the phony name had been a good decision. Ain’t no reason for her to know my real name.

  “It’s show time. I’ll be at your place in about twenty minutes. Be dressed and ready to go. Fill you in when I get there.”

  “Should I take anything with me?”

  “Nah. I’ll explain everything when I see ya’.”

  Twenty minutes later her doorbell rang. “Wow, Doll! Outfit’s lookin’ good on ya’ and ya’ done good on your makeup, too,” Slade said as he walked in. “Sit down. I’m sure ya’ read the file I sent ya’, but it’ll make me feel better if I tell ya’ a few things.”

  Barbara was dressed in a form-fitting pale pink sheath with a plunging neckline and a slit up the side, exposing her thigh. Underneath it she wore La Perla lace underwear. Manolo Blahnik strappy sandals with a 4” heel accented the outfit. Brad had taken her to a jewelry store where he’d purchased diamond earrings, a bracelet, and a fake six carat canary diamond ring.

  Slade took a driver’s license and passport out of his pocket. “For tonight and for as long as ya’ need to be, yer’ name is Maureen Shapiro. Ya’ grew up in Los Angeles and went to church at the Holy Family Church. Ya’ have a master’s degree in business administration and you’re the executive vice-president of a bank with its headquarters in Geneva. Yer’ husband is Nathan Shapiro. Ya’ don’t have any children and ya’ live in Brentwood.

  “About twenty years ago ya’ met a young man by the name of Chico Ruiz at the Holy Family Church. Yer’ name was Maureen O’Shaughnessy then. You were attracted to each other, but yer’ father made sure ya’ never saw him again. Chico never married. Yer’ gonna see him tonight. Brad’ll take ya’ to him. Got any questions?”

  “I read the file, studied his photograph, and memorized the information you put in it. Thanks for the summation.”

  “From what I hear, he hasn’t seen ya’ in twenty years, but that don’t mean he ain’t been followin’ ya’ in the papers. After ya’ talk to him for a few minutes, yer’ gonna ask him for a favor. A friend of yours was arrested and charged with murder. She’s coolin’ her heels in the Robert Presley Detention Center in Riverside until her trial. Yer’ gonna ask him to protect her while she’s in jail. I’ll call and set it up. Got any questions?”

  “How should I act? Do you want me to try and seduce him?”

  “Play it by ear. If ya’ do it’d probably make his wet dreams come true. Yer’ smart. I tol’ ya you’d get a hundred big ones and you’ve already gotten fifty of ‘em, but I want to make sure I’m getting’ what I paid fer’. He’s gonna ask your friend’s name. Tell him her name is Maria Brooks and she’s charged with murderin’ her husband, Jeffrey Brooks. Tell him she didn’t do it. He’s a big, good lookin’ guy with a lot of power. Who knows? Ya’ might jes’ like seducin’ him.”

  “If he’s that powerful, what makes you think he’ll see me? He must have a lot of protection around him.”

  “Trust me. He’ll see ya’. He was and still is in love with ya’. Protection doesn't mean squat. We know his hangout. Brad'll take ya’ to a bar in the area and from there on all ya’ gotta do is utter his name. Ain't no one got the balls to misbehave when they hear his name. Before you know it you'll be in front of him. Jes’ give him the name of the jail where Maria’s being held. After that yer’ on your own. Here’s Brad’s number if ya’ need him to drive ya’ home after ya’ see Chico. If he doesn’t hear from ya’ within a coupla hours, he’ll figure you and Chico have other plans,” he said winking. “One more thing. Be sure I get sumpin’ for my money.”

  CHAPTER 26

  It was a dark and foggy night. The only lights visible were those coming from Brad’s car. This was a part of town that the city fathers intentionally overlooked. Several of the street lights had burned out and needed to be replaced. The people who lived or did business here preferred the shroud of darkness.

  Brad stopped in front of a rundown building with a bright neon sign, “El Amigo,” shining through the fog. Barbara took a deep breath, opened the car door, and said, “Brad, wish me luck.” She entered the club and blinked, looking around for an empty table in the smoky room. Red walls were decorated wit
h Mexican hats and brightly colored serapes. Gouge marks that appeared to have been made by knives scarred the tabletop in front of her.

  She was the only gringo in the bar and everyone looking at her couldn’t help but wonder what she was doing there. A sultry long-haired waitress walked over to Barbara and asked what she’d like to drink. Barbara whispered something into her ear. The waitress flinched as if she’d been struck, turned on her heel, and walked up to a man standing in the corner, cleaning his fingernails with his knife. A few minutes later he walked over to Barbara and asked her to follow him. People were silent as they left and the only sound in the bar was the blaring piped-in music.

  She followed him down the street. After they’d passed by several buildings, he turned and walked toward two heavily tattooed men wearing hunting style plaid jackets and baseball caps turned backwards. They stood on either side of a door, barring the entrance to the nondescript building. One of the men spoke into an earpiece/microphone, listened for a moment, and opened the door for her. “Jose’ll take you from here.”

  Barbara entered the building and gasped. The entryway floor was covered by a long geometric Oriental runner and there was a large mahogany breakfront on the wall to the right. A huge bouquet of fresh flowers was artfully arranged in a cut glass pitcher on it. A chandelier hung from the ceiling with hundreds of glass teardrops reflecting its light. Jose motioned with his head for her to follow him up the large curving mahogany staircase. At the top of the stairs brightly colored contemporary Mexican oil paintings hung on the walls. Jose turned left and Barbara followed him down the hall to a large imposing hand-carved wooden door at the very end. Two men with shaved heads and guns on their hips stood guard at the door.