Sedona Law 4: A Legal thriller

by Dave Daren

  “Go ahead with your questions,” Malone said.

  I raised an eyebrow. Sedona interviews and depositions were all done with a certain degree of small town friendliness. I wasn’t used to the cold formality of high politics.

  “Yeah,” I said. “What we are investigating is the murder at the Sedona Performing Arts Hall on the night of--”

  “I am aware of the murder in question,” Malone interrupted.

  “Right,” I said. “My understanding is that you were there that night?”

  “I was,” he said.

  “I understand that you are close associates with Marvin Iakova, who was sponsoring the event?” I asked.

  “As any online search will tell you,” he answered, “I have had a long professional and personal history with Marvin Iakova.”

  This guy wasn’t going to warm up to me, so I decided to stop beating around the bush.

  “What can you tell me about that night?” I asked.

  He drew a deep breath, and his tone was clipped and formal. “I was invited to attend the performance on that night by a friend. I had an enjoyable evening, but I had to leave early for another engagement. I was deeply saddened by the unfortunate incident that occurred afterward, and my thoughts and prayers go out to the victim’s family.”

  “And how did you find out about the incident?” I asked.

  “I had many friends and associates in attendance,” he said. “I cannot accurately recall which one was the first to relay the news to me.”

  “Uh-huh,” I said. “Switching gears, you have also been connected with Judith Klein. What can you tell me about your relationship with her?”

  “Judith Klein?” he said. “I don’t think I know that name.”

  “So, you never invested in a photography studio with her?” I asked.

  “Next question, please,” Evan piped in.

  I smirked. John Malone was clearly dirty. So, I decided to go on the offensive. I wasn’t going to get anywhere playing neutral, so I might as well get what I could, how I could.

  “Tell me about Olivia Parker,” I said. “Can you give me the address of the Tucson apartment you rented for her?”

  “I’m sorry?” he said.

  “How much money did you and Judith--”

  “I’m sorry,” he repeated. “Can you please stay on topic?”

  “Oh, I’m on topic, Senator,” I said. “I know everything, and I’m about to bring you down from the columns, where you like it.”

  I was referring to a line from A Streetcar Named Desire, where the scumbag husband tells his wife that when he married her, he brought her from the middle class to the lower class, and she liked it. I don’t know if Malone caught the reference or not, but he laughed.

  “Is that right?” he snarled. “And just how do you intend to do that?”

  “If this goes to trial,” I said. “I’ve got a rap sheet a mile long full of witnesses to testify, in court, to all your dirty tricks. So, we could go that route. Or you can tell me what you know about the murder, so I can get my client off, and you get to keep your little secrets, at least long enough to get re-elected, anyway.”

  “Are you blackmailing me?” he asked.

  “No,” I said. “I’m not. But even if I were, you’d actually have to have a secret for me to be able to use it against you.”

  “You’re playing a dangerous game, here, hotshot,” he said. “Are you sure you want to play with me?”

  “I don’t want to play anything,” I said. “All I’m interested in right now is keeping my client out of jail.”

  “Let me tell you something,” he said, “since you seem so hell bent on telling me a few things, I thought I’d return the gesture. You’re Iakova’s new little darling, and I get that that’s a bit of a head rush for someone like you.”

  “Someone like me?” I asked.

  “Small town lawyer, looking to make a name for himself among the lowbrow yokels,” he answered. “Your bravado is cute in its own way. Quaint, but cute.”

  “Fascinating rhetoric considering the demographics you represent,” I said. “Do your constituents know you talk this way?”

  “Cut the crap,” he said. “I know what this is really all about.”

  “I should hope so, given that I’ve been quite direct about it,” I said mainly to deflect his condescension.

  He chuckled. “No, you want to have a little power play.”

  “I’ve got a client being charged with a capital offense,” I said. “Any phrase that includes the word ‘play’ I don’t have time for.”

  “Look,” he said, “I’ve known Iakova for years. He’s a smart man, very smart. But his high intelligence is often his greatest downfall. He gets bored with his shiny new toys--which, is all you are to him. And if you go around burning bridges, like a crusader for political justice, in the end, when he gets tired of you, you’ll be left with nothing but a bad name from Sedona to Tucson. If you’re looking to move up in politics, that’s one hell of a way to start.”

  “Right,” I said. “I guess I missed the part of your career advice speech where you hire a call girl, murder her boyfriend, and sit fat and happy while some other woman goes to jail for it.”

  “I did no such thing,” he said. “And I’m offended by your accusations.”

  “You can be offended all you want,” I said. “But I will subpoena you in all the way from Tucson if this thing goes to trial.”

  He laughed mirthlessly. “You’ll never make it past being a low-grade lawyer. You don’t know the compromises it takes to get to the top.”

  “Alright,” I said. “So tell me about it. What compromises have you made to get to the top?”

  “This call is over,” he said.

  “As I recall,” I retorted, “it never began.”

  He hung up on me, and I dropped the phone on my desk and rubbed my face. Vicki and AJ stared at me in shock.

  “You are the czar,” AJ said. “You are the fucking czar.”

  I just smiled and shook my head. “I got nowhere with the guy.”

  “We know for sure now that he’s involved,” Vicki said. “Which gives us a whole new angle.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Tomorrow, I’ve got to meet with Iakova. That should be fun.”

  “He is probably on the phone to Iakova right now, ranting and raving about you,” Vicki added.

  “Should be a delightful conversation,” I said sarcastically.

  “Okay,” she said. “I’ve got another monkey wrench for you.”

  “No, no, no,” I said. “Monkey wrench reception factory is closed.”

  “We’re going to dinner with Julianna and Gabriel,” she said.

  “What?” I asked.

  “They’re nervous and unsure,” she began, “and she’s feeling betrayed and emotional, and so I told them we take all of our big clients out to dinner before their court dates.”

  “We do?” I asked.

  “We do now,” she said. “I think it’s a nice tradition we should start.”

  She had a point. I did do that kind of stuff in Los Angeles, but here, where everyone knew everyone, schmoozy dinners seemed a bit redundant.

  “It’s just an arraignment,” I said. “But, I guess it couldn’t hurt.”

  “Good,” she said. “Because we’re meeting them at Blanc in about an hour.”

  “Well,” I said. “Then I guess it’s as good a time as any to close up shop. We’ve had a productive day. Let’s be ready for this arraignment bright and early.”

  We locked up, and Vicki and I went home to our little cottage to change.

  “Did you ever call a realtor?” I asked her as I headed to the shower.

  “Yes,” she said as she pulled dresses out of the closet. “We meet with her the day after tomorrow. Her name is Susan Burkewitz, and she’s supposed to be the best one in Sedona.”

  “That’s a high recommendation,” I remarked, as I undressed.

  She snickered and held up two dresses on hangers t
hat looked identical except for the color.

  “The blue or the green?” she asked.

  “The blue,” I chose. “So what about this realtor?”

  “Well,” she laughed. “She’s a ‘nice’ lady.”

  “Nothing good ever starts with that premise,” I said.

  “It’s just... she’s a little…” she trailed off.

  “A little what?” I asked.

  “A little... enthusiastic,” she said as she hung the blue dress back in the closet.

  “Enthusiastic, huh?” I repeated. “Well, that should be interesting.”

  “You’ll like her,” she said. “Eventually.”

  “Eventually?” I asked. “You’re doing little to instill confidence in our real estate search.”

  “Just, don’t mention the hat,” she said.

  “The hat?” I repeated. “What hat?”

  “Just… you’ll see,” she said.

  She laughed and slipped into the green dress. “Let’s just focus on the dinner.”

  “Fine,” I agreed. “And I said the blue dress.”

  “I know,” she said. “But I like the green one better.”

  “Then why did you even ask me?” I asked.

  She laughed. “I changed my mind. Now, are you going to take a shower or not?”

  “I will never understand your species,” I said.

  “We were never meant to be understood,” she said. “After all, what would be the fun in that?”

  “You do have a point there,” I replied.

  She hissed and did a creepy alien gesture with her fingers. I just rolled my eyes and laughed.

  We arrived at Blanc right at seven. Blanc was a trendy gourmet restaurant, but its image was the whole hole in the wall, ramshackle dump. Its “undiscovered cool” look was a magnet for tourists and hipsters, and for locals, it was the place to see and be seen.

  The building was a white dilapidated shack with peeling paint, and a cobblestone walkway led into a dining area no bigger than a small house. But one of Blanc’s most popular attractions was the front patio. The tiny area had bistro tables with a stunning front row view of the stately Red Rocks.

  At night, the buttes appear to glow orange, and the restaurant had intimate outdoor lighting that could make the evening meal feel magical. I did a lot of business lunches here, so the date night appeal kind of lost its flavor for me. But I had heard of more than one marriage proposal happening here.

  The patio was full tonight, and the atmosphere was electric with the palpable anticipation of two dozen couples all rolling the dice to get laid. I put my arm around Vicki. I had to admit, the green dress was the right choice, tight and form fitting around her sexy curves. She suddenly started laughing as we walked up the steps.

  “Are you checking out my ass?” she asked.

  I laughed because I hadn’t even realized I was staring. “I think Matt Chelmi had the wrong sister. You’re the Pippa Middleton of Sedona.”

  She did just the tiniest little hip shake, but in the chapel of the Blanc, it was akin to a full out twerk. I laughed, as we stepped inside.

  The inside of Blanc was a small crowded room with wood floors, and waitstaff in crisp white suits and cummberbunds bustling about white linened tables.

  A piano had been added since the last time I was here, and tonight, they had a live musician doing instrumental Billy Joel. We stood and listened for a few minutes, and he was actually quite good. We spotted Julianna and Gabriel at a corner table and joined them.

  “Hi,” I smiled as I took a seat. “How are you guys doing?”

  “A night out will do us good,” Julianna said as she rubbed Gabriel’s shoulder. Gabriel smiled. They both looked like their spirits were higher than I had seen them yet. Now that Julianna was a bit happier, I could see who she had become as an adult.

  She had grown into a gypsy. Tonight, she wore a long flowing maxi dress in blue and white floral. Her red hair flowed in long waves down her back, pinned at the sides with flower clips. Silver dangly earrings peeked out with every move she made and had a floral piece headband across her forehead. Even Gabriel seemed a little cartoonish, in a ruffled pirate looking shirt, and some sort of brown slacks.

  “This place wasn’t here when we were kids,” Julianna remarked to me.

  “No,” I said. “It’s one of our favorites, now.”

  “Love the view,” she said. “It’s such a change after Brooklyn.”

  I laughed. “I know the feeling.”

  Vicki smiled and asked Julianna, “How are you liking being back in Sedona? I mean, besides the whole murder thing.”

  We all laughed.

  “Besides the whole murder thing,” she said. “It’s been refreshing. We’ve gone on bike rides and hiking, and then we’ve been to the Million Dollar Theatre.”

  “Ah, yes,” I said, and Vicki nodded.

  “They’re restoring that,” Vicki told her. “Henry’s brother did a film screen there not too long ago.”

  The waitress came by and took our order.

  “How is Phoenix?” Julianna asked after she left.

  “He’s good,” I told her. “He’s in South America, trying to find himself. I think he found Buddhism along the way.”

  “Ah,” Julianna said. “I practice a lot of Eastern mysticism. It can be a healing restorative experience.”

  “Uh-huh,” I said.

  “Plus, great sex,” Gabriel said.

  “Is that right?” I asked.

  “Oh, my gosh,” Julianna said, and she leaned into the table. “When you are in tune with your body, and your own energies, what you and your partner can experience together… ohh.”

  Gabriel raised an eyebrow and nodded. “We can go for like, I don’t know, what, babe... six hours?”

  “Well,” Julianna explained, “the problem in our culture, is that we are so obsessed with immediacy. Everything has got to be quick, quick, now. So, in our approach toward sex, we have so much focus on climax, that we often don’t take the time to really build that intimacy as partners.”

  This was starting to sound like the X-rated cut of the Ghoti intro video.

  “And it’s not just about sex,” Julianna continued. “It’s about a lifestyle of holistic health.”

  “Are you talking about tantric sex?” Vicki asked.

  “Yes and no,” Gabriel said. “Popular culture has cheapened the tantra to be about a sexual experience. But the tantra is a set of teachings that applies to all facets of your life. And when you live within those teachings, you can apply them to sexuality to achieve a mystical sexual experience you never thought possible.”

  “I do workshops,” Julianna said. “I teach people how to maximize their energies to have mind shattering sexual experiences.”

  “Mantra plus yantra equals tantra,” Gabriel stated as if this was a very meaningful observation to us.

  “Yes, of course,” Vicki agreed.

  “I have a spaghetti bolognese,” the waitress held a plate in her hand, and I smirked at her expression. God only knew how much she had overheard.

  Gabriel claimed the plate, and I had my typical rigatoni, while Vicki had a salad, and Julianna had a small bowl of soup.

  “Did you have a big lunch?” I asked her.

  “I’m doing a liquid fast,” she said. “I’m only putting liquids in my body for seventy-two hours. It’s a spiritual cleanse.”

  “A spiritual cleanse?” Vicki asked.

  “It helps to reset all of your energies,” she said. “So much of our food is full of toxic waste, and we are constantly putting this in our bodies.”

  “Right,” Vicki said. “I’ve heard of nutrition cleanses.”

  “This is more than that,” she said. “This is about cleansing out the negative chi. Our stress and negative emotion can cause a build up inside of us.”

  Gabriel nodded vehemently. “It’s best to think of negative energy like emotional cholesterol, that blocks your psychological arteries. If left too long
like that, it can hinder your entire life, or even cause a mental breakdown. So, a spiritual cleanse is a holistic process, in which through the union of the spirit, mind, and body, you cleanse out all of the emotional toxins to achieve total mental freedom.”

  “And when you achieve freedom,” she said. “There is no limit to how fully you can experience life.”

  Or, no limit to how much bullshit you can spout, I thought. They went on like this for a while, and Vicki was better at listening to this than I was. I guess because she hadn’t grow up with it. New age philosophy struck a chord in me, somewhere deep where my acting skills couldn’t save me. Then, my phone went off. I checked the screen, and my eyes widened. It was the prosecutor.

  “I have to take this,” I said and slipped out of the room.

  “Henry Irving,” I answered.

  “Hello, Henry, Chet Levinson,” Chet said.

  “Hey, Chet,” I said. “Good to hear from you.”

  “Sorry to call you so late,” he said. “But with the arraignment in the morning, time is critical.”

  “Your timing is perfect,” I said. “I’m actually with the client right now. What can I do for you?”

  “As you know,” he said, “We had a confession from Judith Klein on the murder of Beowulf Vandergarten.”

  “Right,” I said. “Durant called me this morning.”

  “Well,” Chet said. “We have reviewed the confession, and have decided it isn’t admissible, and we will continue prosecution against the suspects.”

  “Why isn’t it admissable?” I asked.

  “The suspect gave conflicting stories,” he began, “that did not hold up and did not match the evidence.”

  “Did she recant her story?” I asked.

  “No,” he said. “But we are pursuing criminal charges for a false confession.”

  “Okay,” I said. “We’ll see you in the morning.”

  “Will do,” he said.

  I went back inside and found our party, they were laughing at some joke, and they all looked up at me as I sat back down.

  “Who was that?” Vicki asked.

  “Prosecutor,” I said.

  “What did he say?” Julianna gasped.

  “He said what we already knew,” I said. “They’re throwing out Judith’s confession.”

  “Why?” Julianna asked.