Lawful Deception

by Pamela Samuels Young

  “Okay.” Jessica twirled her wedding ring back and forth. “Well, the second thing is—”

  “Hold on,” Fletcher said, cutting in. “I think I know what you’re going to say next and let me alleviate your concerns. I definitely want you to be part of Harmony’s life. As far as I’m concerned, you’re her aunt. You were the only person I know of who had a pleasant relationship with Bliss. I don’t know how you did it.” He grinned. “Yes, I do. You managed it because you’re a saint.”

  Jessica smiled. She wondered if the detectives had questioned Fletcher yet. Probably not. He wouldn’t be calling her a saint if he knew she’d given that recording to the police.

  “As a matter of fact, if you’d like her to spend some time at your place, that would be fine. I want her to stay in contact with her brothers too.”

  Jessica swallowed hard, trying to gather the courage to proceed. She decided to just spit it out.

  “Bliss named me as Jonas’ guardian. Harmony’s too.”

  Fletcher’s forehead creased in confusion.

  “You’re a busy CEO,” Jessica continued, her words tumbling out in a rush. “Mia works long hours just like you do. It’s not right for Harmony to be raised by a nanny. I can be a real mother to her.”

  “Hold on a minute, Jessica. Harmony’s my daughter. You can see her as much as you want. I’m even willing to set up a regular visitation arrangement. But she’s my kid and I’m going to raise her.”

  Jessica tried to put on a good face, but her lips refused to smile.

  “C’mon, Jessica, don’t worry.” Fletcher reached over and squeezed her shoulder. “You’re going to be a big part of Harmony’s life. I promise.”

  Jessica had not really expected Fletcher McClain to just hand over his daughter. But in time, he might have a change of heart. One day the nanny wouldn’t show up on time and Fletcher would be in a panic when he had to take on the duties of parenthood. And there was no way the self-centered Mia would want to raise Bliss’ child. Harmony’s presence had probably already created a serious wedge in their relationship.

  Fletcher checked his watch. “Hey, I hate to be rude, but I have a conference call in a second and it’s going to last a while.”

  “No problem,” Jessica said, getting to her feet. “The bathroom’s down the hallway on the right, correct?”

  Jessica had spent a lot of time at Fletcher’s home when he’d been dating Bliss. So she knew the layout of the house pretty well.

  “You got it. And why don’t you go back downstairs and spend some time with Harmony.”

  “Thanks, Fletcher. I’ll do that. And next time I’ll bring Jonas.”

  As Jessica made her way back inside, she struggled to control her emotions. Harmony belonged with her. Not in this cold, lifeless mansion being raised by a stranger.

  God willing, she was going to be Harmony’s mother. She would just have to be patient.

  CHAPTER 73

  “You okay with this?” Thomas asked. “I told you I can interview her by myself. You don’t need to be here.”

  “Why’re you treating me like a little pussy,” Mankowski nearly growled at his partner. “I’m fine.”

  Actually, he was anxious to get another look at Girlie Cortez. Just the thought brought back images of her toned, naked body crawling across his bed. No woman had done such things to him before or since. But in the end, she’d played him like a used banjo, almost costing him his career.

  He turned to see Girlie stalking toward him. But what he saw was a different Girlie. Her hair was pulled back into a bun, not seductively spread across her shoulders. She’d even gained a few pounds and looked a little haggard. Having to switch from the swanky digs of her old law firm, to this dump, was probably partly to blame. He was glad to see he wasn’t the only one whose career had taken a spiral. Surprisingly, she wasn’t showing a lick of cleavage. That disappointed him.

  Girlie extended her hand. “So nice to see you again.”

  “Indeed,” Thomas said.

  Mankowski merely nodded.

  Girlie pretended to pout. “You aren’t mad at me, are you, detective?”

  Thomas interceded before Mankowski could respond. “It would be great if we could talk in your office.”

  They followed her down a dark hallway. She’d obviously taken a long fall, much longer than Mankowski’s. Compared to her old law firm, this place was like a Skid Row storefront.

  “So I understand that you’re here to discuss my former client. I was so sorry to hear about her death. How can I help?”

  Thomas pitched the first question. “We’d like to know what you know about the relationship between Bliss Fenton and Fletcher McClain.”

  “What relationship? There was none. They hated each other. So you think he killed her?”

  “Maybe,” Thomas replied. “That’s what we’re trying to figure out.”

  “I only know what Bliss told me. I never witnessed any interaction between the two of them besides their depositions. I will tell you, though, at one point, I thought Mr. McClain was going to dive across the table and wring her neck. It was quite entertaining to see his reaction when he found out how Bliss got pregnant. Do you know that story?”

  Thomas nodded. “Her friend Jessica filled us in.”

  Mankowski was looking out of the window. He needed to do that to keep from getting aroused.

  Damn her.

  Girlie apparently didn’t like the fact that he wasn’t paying her much attention.

  “Detective Mankowski, don’t you have any questions you’d like to ask?”

  He locked eyes with her for the first time. “Did Ms. Fenton ever tell you Fletcher threatened to kill her?”

  “Actually, yes. She even had it on—”

  “We have the recording of their lunch meeting at Fig & Olive,” Mankowski interrupted. “Any time other than that?”

  Girlie turned her attention back to Thomas.

  “Not that I’m aware of. Now her other baby daddy, Dr. Franco? Bliss told me that he’d threatened her more than once. He didn’t like it when she went after him for more child support.”

  Thomas looked over at Mankowski as he jotted down some notes. Mankowski was leaning away from Dr. Franco as their guy, but Thomas still wanted him in the mix.

  “Do you know who the father of her middle child is?” Thomas asked.

  “Nope. She refused to reveal his identity, even when I told her our conversations were protected by the attorney-client privilege.”

  “Do you know if she had a contentious relationship with him?”

  “Don’t know a thing about him. She simply refused to talk about him.”

  Thomas twirled his pen. “Any thoughts on who might’ve killed her?”

  “Yep.”

  They waited, but Girlie didn’t expound. She was being the perfect deposition witness, only responding to the question asked.

  “Care to tell us who you think that might be?” Thomas pushed.

  “Her former friend Mia Richardson.”

  “Fletcher McClain’s fiancée?”

  “That would be the one.”

  “Why her?”

  “Bliss and her baby rocked Mia’s perfect little world. Because of Harmony, Bliss would be in their lives for at least the next eighteen years. I’m sure Mia hated the thought of that. Not to mention how Bliss got pregnant. Were you aware that—”

  “Yeah, we know,” Mankowski said, cutting her off again. “Jessica told us how Bliss stole his condom.”

  Girlie smiled seductively. “You’ve been misinformed, detectives. That’s what Fletcher McClain alleged in his complaint. But that’s not what happened.”

  Mankowski sat up. “What do you mean?”

  Girlie took her time doling out the true facts surrounding the conception of baby Harmony. When she was done, bot
h officers appeared ready to tumble out of their chairs. Girlie waited patiently for more questions, but it was as if their vocal chords had shut down.

  “Look, detectives, you might say I know a little bit about scheming women. Some might even say, I am one.” She flashed Thomas a flirtatious smile. All three of them, however, knew her smile was meant for Mankowski.

  “Bliss Fenton and Mia Richardson were cut from the same cloth,” Girlie continued. “I’ve never met the woman, but from everything Bliss told me, I got the sense that both of them were born with the instinct to go into attack mode when put on the defensive. Sure, Fletcher McClain and Dr. Franco hated Bliss for coming after their money. But Mia hated Bliss for going after her man and his money, which was soon to become her money. Never underestimate how far a woman will go to snuff out the competition.”

  Girlie let her theory soak in for a moment or so.

  “So in my humble opinion, if you’re looking for Bliss’ killer, Mia Richardson should go to the head of your potential suspects’ list.”

  CHAPTER 74

  Fletcher begs, pleads and twists my arm to get on my calendar. After my face-off with his pretentious fiancée outside the police station yesterday, I made it clear that he was on his own. I don’t have the stomach for another big murder trial, especially one where my client consistently lies through his teeth. But here he is sitting in my office, acting like I’m the only decent attorney on the planet.

  “I’m confused, Fletcher. Why do you even need a lawyer? You haven’t been arrested or charged.”

  “C’mon, Vernetta. You know how this is going to play out. The circumstantial evidence makes me the most obvious suspect. The paternity case, the lawsuit, the money that was at stake.”

  “And that recording,” I add.

  Fletcher presses the heel of his hand to his forehead and wipes away a layer of sweat. It’s sixty-five degrees in my office, so why is he sweating?

  Am I looking at Bliss Fenton’s killer?

  The average criminal attorney would kill for a case like this. Rich, handsome, high-profile client suspected of murdering his beautiful, money-grubbing ex-girlfriend. The fact that a man like Fletcher McClain had retained me would propel me to the top of the list of go-to lawyers for the rich and famous. The media attention would be nonstop and the corresponding free publicity would result in a ton of new clients knocking on my door. But I’d almost rather defend a murderer who admitted it, than one who insisted on lying about his guilt. At least I’d know who I was dealing with.

  “I know how this looks, but I didn’t kill Bliss.” Fletcher’s eyes are pleading with me as much as his voice.

  “If you didn’t kill her, then you have nothing to worry about. Innocent people don’t go to jail. Isn’t that what your wife-to-be said?”

  “Mia wasn’t thinking clearly. She was out of line and I’m sorry about what went down.”

  “And I’m sorry that’s the woman you’re about to marry.”

  “I want to put you on retainer. They’re going to arrest me for Bliss’ murder. I know it. I want to be prepared. More prepared than the prosecution is.”

  “But you have a solid alibi, Fletcher. You were at that listening party.”

  “They probably think I hired somebody to do it.”

  “May I remind you that you did say that was what you planned to do?”

  “C’mon, Vernetta, I was upset. I was just blowing off steam. I didn’t’ kill Bliss.”

  “I don’t have the energy for a murder trial, Fletcher.” I open my desk drawer and pull out a small notepad and scribble a name and telephone number on it. I hand it to him.

  He glances at the paper, then back at me. “Who’s Colin Bowman?”

  “One of the few criminal attorneys I know who’s better than me. If I were facing a murder charge, he’s the guy I’d call. He lives in the Bay Area, practices out of Oakland. I’m sure he’ll agree to temporarily relocate for the trial, if there is one. Tell him I sent you. We were law school classmates. If he can’t get you off, nobody can.”

  “I don’t want him. I want you.” He flings the paper onto my desk.

  “I said I don’t want to do it and I’m not going to. Call Colin.”

  “Stop being so difficult. Name your price. I’ll pay it.”

  “See that’s what you and your little fiancée don’t understand. Everybody isn’t as money hungry as you two are. It’s not about the money.”

  Fletcher’s nostrils flare. The grown man who always gets what he wants is regressing into the little boy who can’t handle not getting what he demands.

  “Okay, then. What is it about?”

  “It’s about you repeatedly lying to me and even lying under oath during your deposition. If I represented you at trial, how am I going to know when you’re telling the truth?”

  “So I got a blow job from that psycho and didn’t tell you. Big deal.”

  I can’t help but chuckle. In Fletcher’s mind, this all comes down to a mindless blow job. But it’s so much bigger than that.

  “Stop acting so high and mighty. This is business and I’m offering you a business proposition.”

  “And I don’t want it.”

  He still acts as if he hasn’t heard me. This is why Fletcher is such a successful dealmaker. He’s good at wearing people down.

  “There’s something I need to tell you. Another reason why they’re likely to think I killed Bliss.”

  The way I see it, the desperation in his voice only underscores his guilt. I raise both hands. “I don’t want to know. I’m not your lawyer anymore.”

  Fletcher proceeds anyway.

  “I didn’t want that forensic accountant looking into my finances because he’d probably find some”—he twists a gaudy pinky ring on his left hand—“improprieties regarding the company.”

  I nod, showing no surprise. “Oh, so you’re stealing money from Karma Entertainment. More evidence on the motive side. Great.”

  “It wasn’t stealing. I’ve paid everything back. But a forensics examination might uncover some unauthorized loans. If the police find out about that, I’m further sunk.”

  “Yep, I’d certainly say so. Guess you should’ve done some better planning.”

  “I didn’t kill that bitch!”

  I shake my head. “If you and your new attorney decide that you should testify at trial, it would be a good idea if you didn’t refer to the deceased as that bitch.”

  Fletcher hangs his head and I fear he might start crying. “C’mon, Vernetta, I really need you.”

  It hits me that Fletcher has rarely been told no. That’s why it’s so hard for him to accept it from me now.

  “Fletcher, I’m tired of repeating myself.” I hand him the paper with Colin’s number on it and make a show of enunciating my next words. “I will not represent you. And there’s nothing you can say or do that will change my mind.”

  CHAPTER 75

  The two detectives stared at the photographs pinned to the corkboard across from their desks. They were discussing the pros and cons of their top three suspects in Bliss Fenton’s murder: Fletcher McClain, Dr. Joseph Franco and Mia Richardson.

  “Fletcher McClain is too obvious,” Thomas insisted. “And he has a solid alibi.”

  Mankowski shook his head. “Screw his alibi. He hired somebody to do it. If you were about to lose eighty grand a month for the next eighteen years, wouldn’t you?”

  Thomas chuckled. “That’s a lot of dough, but if that was only ten percent of what he made, it wasn’t like he was going to end up a pauper. That’s why I don’t get rich people. I don’t see why he was even sweating her about it.”

  “Yeah, you definitely don’t understand rich people,” Mankowski said. “The more they have, the more they want.”

  “My money is on Franco,” Thomas countered. “Jessica told us how
upset he was about having to pay her another two grand a month.”

  “That’s not a lot of money for a man with three medical offices,” Mankowski pointed out.

  “Maybe it’s not just the money, but the stress of all the drama since his kid was born,” Thomas pressed. “He just couldn’t take it anymore and snapped.”

  “Naw. I’m not buying the good doctor as the suspect just yet. If he’s having some serious money problems, then I might have a change of heart. Let’s make sure we look into Fletcher McClain’s finances while we’re at it.”

  “It’s not just two grand. It’s twenty-four thousand dollars a year until the kid hits eighteen. People kill over a whole lot less.”

  Mankowski could not dispute that. He pointed at the board.

  “And then we have the beautiful, but frosty Mia Richardson. She reminds me of a classic sociopath. They’re so put together that it’s impossible to wrap your mind around the fact that they could actually kill someone. Ted Bundy, Richard Ramirez, Jeffrey Dahmer were all good-looking guys that people didn’t suspect were killers.”

  Thomas rubbed his chin. “I guess Ms. Richardson is a possible. It did bother me that she didn’t show an ounce of sympathy for her dead friend.”

  “That I understand. Bliss was trying to jack her man for a whole lot of cash. Although Ms. Richardson claims she was home reading a book, she might have been in Playa Vista shooting the woman who was turning her picture-perfect life upside down. For that chick, it seems like image is everything.”

  “Maybe,” Thomas said.

  “I want to add some more pressure. Make sure I’m present at the next interview.”

  A uniformed officer walked in and handed Thomas a flash drive. “We didn’t find any home cameras on the block that might’ve picked up the vic’s townhouse, but here’s the video from the traffic camera at Jefferson and Playa Vista Drive.”

  “Looks like you’re going to be up awful late tonight,” Mankowski joked.