“Why did she have to move into this place?” Eli grumbled, setting his bowl down. At least Joanne didn’t close the drapes in the front of the house, he thought, watching as she exited the car and entered the Spencers’ house.
After another hour passed and the Lexus remained parked in the driveway, Eli switched one of the monitors over to a news channel. Another massive earthquake had struck, this time in India. The death toll was expected to be over a hundred thousand. He stared at the gory images, longing for the days when people didn’t regard death, destruction, and misery as forms of entertainment. How many earthquakes did it take? How many hurricanes, floods, tornados, plane crashes, train wrecks, explosions?
An hour passed. Eli stood and stretched, deciding it was time to drop the dinghy and go ashore, maybe put his feet on some solid ground. He raised his eyes to the star-filled sky “You’re talking. Boss,” he said. “The only problem is no one is listening.”
“She can’t go. Mom,” Mike said, glaring at his sister. “She’ll tell everyone that I’m only twelve. She’ll ruin everything. I’ve waited all week to go to this party. I didn’t take your car and go joyriding in the middle of the night. Leah did. She’s always doing things behind your back.”
“Jerk,” Leah said, picking up the plates to load into the dishwasher. “I was invited too. All my friends are going.”
“Mike is right,” Joanne was seated at the kitchen table. “Taking my car was a serious thing, Leah. You don’t deserve to go to a party. Let Mike have a little fun for a change. As long as he follows the rules, I don’t see any harm letting the kids around here think he’s a few years older.”
“So he can lie, right?” Leah said, placing her hands on her hips. “Dad is such a bad person you won’t even drive us to L.A. to visit him. But it’s fine for Mike to lie about his age.” She flung her arms in the air. “I guess I can start telling everyone I’m twenty-one.”
“Stop it, Leah.” Joanne turned to her son. “Did you purposely tell people you were older?”
“No,” he said, shrugging. “No one even asked me my age. They just thought I was in high school because I’m tall. Maybe I act older. How do I know?”
“We’re going to be moving soon, anyway.”
“I thought you said all I had to do was cook dinner and clean the kitchen,” Leah argued. “Now you’re grounding me.”
“Just for tonight.”
Leah smashed the plate in the sink. “I hate you!” she shouted. “No wonder Dad left you. You’re a bitch. The only reason he took us away is because you threatened to turn him in to the police. He would have paid back the money. You didn’t give him a chance.”
“That’s it,” Joanne said, narrowing her eyes at her daughter. “Clean up the dish you broke. You’re grounded for the next two weeks.”
“Clean it up yourself,” Leah said, storming out of the kitchen.
Joanne marched into her daughter’s room.
“What are you doing?” Leah eyed her suspiciously.
Joanne bent down and unplugged the modem from the wall, then picked up her daughter’s laptop. “No computer, understand?”
“You can’t do this to me,” Leah cried, trying to wrestle the computer away from her mother. “I won’t be able to do my homework. How can I talk to my friends?”
“You’ll talk to your friends at school,” Joanne told her, determined not to give in. “As far as your homework is concerned, you’ll do it the same way I did.” She looked at the bookcases on the walls. “You have a set of encyclopedias. And if you need to type something, there’s an old Smith Corona in the garage.”
Joanne carried the computer to her bedroom, then locked it inside a nine-by-twelve-foot hidden room behind her closet, placing the key in her wallet. Inside was a panic button. Judge Spencer had built the room as a safety precaution. In case an intruder came into their home, he and his wife could lock themselves inside the room and hit the panic button linked directly to the police station. Also installed was a separate phone line and enough food and water to last for several weeks. It reminded Joanne of a bomb or tornado shelter. Neither Leah nor Mike was aware the room existed. When Judge Spencer had agreed to rent her his second home, he’d shown her the room in case she ever needed it, then instructed her not to tell anyone about it.
Even in an area as secure as Seacliff Point, Spencer wanted to make certain his family was safe. Fifteen years earlier, when he’d resided in Rhode Island, a man he’d sentenced to prison had broken into his home and held him at knifepoint. His wife, Anne, had been outside working in the garden. Seeing what was happening through the window, she’d walked in and cracked the attacker’s skull open with a shovel.
“Sorry, Mom,” Mike said, when Joanne returned to the kitchen. “I didn’t mean to cause a scene.” He walked over and began picking up the broken ceramic pieces and placing them into the trash can. “The party isn’t such a big deal. Why don’t we go to the store and rent a movie?”
Joanne embraced him, then kissed him lightly on the forehead. “You’re a good kid, Mike,” she said. “Go get dressed for your party. Your sister can sulk tonight. I’m going to drop by the Cove and have a glass of wine, see if I can’t put this week behind me.”
“Make sure you take the car.”
Joanne smiled. “You are mature,” she told him. “As long you don’t step out of line, I’ll let you get away with passing yourself off for sixteen. Only for tonight, though. And you better watch out. You’re a handsome guy Don’t let some girl take advantage of you.”
“You’re the greatest mom in the world,” Mike gushed. “I love you.”
“I love you too,” Joanne said. “More than you’ll ever know.”
Her son fell serious. “I wish Dad hadn’t done the things he did. Maybe you’ll find someone else. You know, a really nice man.”
“Another man is the last thing I need,” Joanne told him. “My daughter hates me, one of my defendants disappeared, and I have to find another place for us to live. You’re my number one guy, Mike. Think you can handle that?”
“You bet,” he said smartly.
“Good,” Joanne told him, “because you don’t have a choice.”
Realizing the Cove would be packed on a Friday night, Joanne decided to drive down to the beach instead, thinking a few moments of solitude might clear her head. She saw a bonfire on the opposite side of the beach with a few young people milling around as they prepared for the party. Slipping her shoes off, she trudged barefoot through the damp sand, heading in the direction of the north cliff where she knew she wouldn’t be bothered.
Leah’s angry remarks had been hurtful. Joanne had never once told her mother that she hated her. Her father would have mopped the floor with her if such words had ever left her mouth. She grew up in another era, though, where the parents ran the house instead of the children. Everything seemed upside down in today’s world. The legal system was absurd. In the state of California, a person could end up serving a longer term for white-collar crimes such as Doug had committed than they would if they committed a murder. Parents were terrified of disciplining their children for fear they would cause psychological damage. Envisioning what the future might hold was frightening.
Joanne’s own situation was tough all around. Things would more than likely get worse before they got better. Due to the enormous amount of money Doug had embezzled and her own position as a prosecutor, the media would have a field day once the case went to trial. Several newspapers had already published articles—another reason she felt justified in taking Leah’s computer away. The girl was disturbed enough without reading about her father’s exploits over the Internet.
At least she wasn’t in Elizabeth Decker’s position.
Judge Spencer had issued the search warrant for room 734 at the Economy Inn. Fearing that they indeed might have a homicide investigation on their hands, Joanne had pressured the police into executing the warrant that afternoon. Kennedy had given her permission to be present while the
police conducted the search. After two hours, they’d walked away with nothing even vaguely suggestive of a crime—no blood, no body, no decoy gun. All they’d discovered was a piece of fabric that had been torn from one of the green curtains. Even though the manager of the motel denied it, for all they knew, the curtain had been torn before the three men had rented the room.
Of course, Joanne told herself, the Rubinskys could have easily removed all traces of a crime prior to Tom appearing in court that morning. The possibility still existed that the crime could have occurred at another location. She wasn’t certain that Arnold’s theory regarding the Rubinskys holding Ian somewhere until the trial was over made sense. Even if the brothers were acquitted on the robbery charges, what would they gain? Once they released Decker, he would run straight to the police. Then the Rubinskys could be tried for kidnapping, even if they had already been acquitted on the robbery charges. The only reason she could think of for them to hold Decker hostage somewhere would be to buy time.
The next question was why?
Were there more crimes involved than she or the police knew about? Did the Rubinskys need time to retrieve the money and arrange their own getaway? Maybe that’s what Ian Decker was doing, getting things in order for them. Although Tom had sworn he was in contact with Gary, he could easily have been lying to protect his brother. For all they knew, Ian and Gary could have teamed up as crime partners, cutting Tom out of the picture. As Joanne had argued all along, just because Ian had a learning disability didn’t mean he wasn’t intentionally breaking the law.
Joanne turned her thoughts to the most urgent question: Had the Rubinskys murdered Ian Decker? The more she thought about it, the more possibilities unfolded. The Rubinskys convincing a jury that Decker had committed the robbery without their knowledge might have sounded farfetched that morning, yet she could see how it might play out to their benefit. The Rubinskys had simply taken Arnold and Elizabeth’s version of how the events had occurred and reversed them. As Joanne had explained to Elizabeth that morning, the defendants’ fate would be decided by twelve individuals who would eventually make up the jury panel. And, should Gary surface, and he and his brother show up in court, while Decker remained outstanding, reasonable doubt would be created in the eyes of the jury.
Joanne’s thoughts turned to Arnold Dreiser. Kennedy’s concerns were certainly worthy of consideration. Arnold’s son’s suicide could have pushed him over the edge. It wouldn’t be the first time a fine legal mind had came unglued. She recalled the 1989 case involving Joel Steinberg, a once brilliant attorney who had been convicted of manslaughter in the death of his six-year-old adopted daughter. The Steinberg case had made the world realize that child abuse was not restricted to low-income or uneducated parents, and that governmental agencies were many times understaffed and ineffective to protect the children placed in their care. What had made the case so sensational was that Steinberg and his wife had been able to adopt another child while actively abusing the first child.
Could Arnold Dreiser have provided Ian Decker with the necessary funds to leave town? Joanne considered herself a good judge of character, though, and this line of thinking didn’t seem plausible. Not only could the attorney be disbarred, he could be charged with aiding and abetting a criminal, as well as with obstruction of justice.
Decker’s psychological evaluations and school records had only confirmed what Arnold had already told her. Holding Decker’s exam papers in her hands had brought tears to her eyes. Every other page had the dreaded “F” letter scrawled across the top, whereas the papers themselves had shown the mark of tremendous effort.
Elizabeth Decker was a unique woman, Joanne told herself. The majority of people considered a person with a disability to be a burden. Yet Elizabeth had told Joanne that to be entrusted with a child like Ian was an honor.
Reaching the cliff, Joanne climbed up onto a ledge with a flat surface, listening to the waves. Every so often, it was possible to watch grunion runs from here. Grunions were small fluorescent fish that came to shore during the late evening or early morning hours to spawn. The local radio station would broadcast an approximate date and time the grunion were scheduled to appear. The homeowners’ association put on a party every year, awarding prizes to the person who caught the most fish. People would roll up their pants and wade out into the surf, scooping up the fish with their hands, then depositing them in plastic pails. When the grunion spawned, the shoreline was illuminated with thousands of dancing lights.
Joanne wrapped her arms around her chest, chastising herself for not bringing a heavier jacket. After growing up in St. Louis, the climate in California had always annoyed her. She favored seasons—the changing colors of fall leaves, waking up and seeing the ground covered with snow in the winter, the wetness of spring, the blistering heat of summer. In California, she never knew what kind of clothes to wear. A person could pass through several seasons in a single day. It was February, and the air was cold and damp, yet earlier the temperatures had been in the upper sixties. She recalled one Christmas when it had been so hot, she’d had to turn on the air conditioner.
Immersed in her thoughts, Joanne became aware of a strange noise. It reminded her of the squishy sound a person’s shoes made when they were filled with water. She held her breath and listened. A few moments later, she saw a large shadowy figure rapidly moving toward her.
TWELVE
Friday, February 9, 2001, 7:45 P.M.
MIKE WAS warming his hands by the fire, standing next to a redheaded girl with freckles and pale skin. She wasn’t bad looking, but she wasn’t Tess Fourney. “My cheerleading coach designed our new uniforms,” Stacy said, smacking on a wad of gum. ‘They’re going to be fabulous, much better than last year. I tried mine on the other day The stupid seamstress jabbed me with a needle. Look,” she said, lifting up her sweater and exposing a tiny mark near her navel. “I might never be able to wear a bikini again.”
“Terrible,” Mike said, deciding he’d rather go home and stare at the wall than listen to such nonsense.
Leaving the girl standing there, he pushed his way through the throng of young people. Not everyone present was a resident of Sea-cliff Point. Kids had invited their friends from outside. Some were huddled around the fire, talking and laughing, while others were stretched out on blankets. Tess Fourney was the girl Mike wanted to see. Her father was a scientist. Not only was she pretty, she was smart.
And she was only fourteen. Two years wasn’t such a big span in age. Even if he told her the truth, maybe she wouldn’t care. Every guy at Seacliff Point was in love with Tess Fourney, though, so his chances were about one in a zillion. And not because she was wild. It wasn’t even her looks, although she was extremely pretty. Tess just had a way about her. She drew people to her like a magnet.
Mike stopped and spoke to another girl, their neighbors’ daughter. Julia Merritt was a senior in high school. Her brother, Patrick, had just graduated from Notre Dame. Both of the Merritt children were spoiled because their parents were rich. As an early graduation present, Julia’s parents had given her a 2001 Porsche Boxster convertible. The color was called Ocean Jade, a metallic turquoise. Porsche must have manufactured only a handful of cars in that color, because no one had ever seen a car exactly like it. Mike thought Julia’s father was a sneaky guy and wanted to keep tabs on his daughter. Either that, or he wanted to make certain she didn’t forget where she parked her car at the mall.
Even though Emily Merritt and Mike’s mother were friends, the Merritt kids had never had anything to do with Mike or his sister. He guessed it was because his family was only renting, which placed them lower on the social ladder. Even though Seacliff Point was a great place, many of the residents were snobs.
“What are you doing here?” Julia Merritt asked. “Isn’t it past your bedtime?”
Mike’s little charade was about to come tumbling down. He’d forgotten about his mother’s friendship with Emily Merritt, and the fact that she probably knew everyt
hing about him, even the embarrassing stuff about his dad. “They asked me to carry the firewood. Did Pat get a job yet?”
“All the decent jobs are in Los Angeles,” Julia told him. “Pat doesn’t want to live in the city.”
Mike suddenly saw Tess smiling and waving him over. He pushed past Julia and through the crowd like a linebacker. “I haven’t seen you for awhile,” he said, trying to act nonchalant. “How’s it going?”
Tess was a small girl with long blond hair, hazel eyes, and gorgeous skin. Her best feature was her smile, though. She had perfect teeth and two deep dimples in her cheeks. “Want to go for a walk?”
“Where do you want to go?” Mike glanced back at the bonfire. “Looks like the party is just getting started.”
“I’ve lived here all my life,” Tess told him, pointing her toe and drawing a circle in the sand. “These things get old, you know. Why don’t we walk down by the cliffs? I’d rather look at the stars than stand around and talk.”
Mike was certain the bells had just rung in heaven.
THIRTEEN
Friday, February 9, 2001, 8:30 P.M.
FEARFUL SHE was about to be assaulted, Joanne scrambled up the steep cliff from the ledge where she’d been sitting. A circle of light surrounded her, and she glanced over her shoulder toward the shadowy image below her. The light moved several feet away, and she saw the person’s hands moving rapidly Eli Connors spun the flashlight in his hand like a baton, illuminating his face. “Remember me?”
Conflict of Interest Page 10
