Dark Justice

by Sinclair, Rachel

  And that was my decision. I was not going to allow Arabella to try to hack Addison’s email account again. I knew that what she found was extremely important for my case. There was a quiet voice inside of me that was screaming that the emails would solve this case completely. But there was just no way I could allow Arabella to have that kind of exposure.

  “You do you, I can see why you would want to encourage her to get back in there, but I can certainly see why you should tell her not to do it. I tend to agree that it would be extremely risky for Arabella to try it again. Looks like we’re just going to have to try this case the old-fashioned way. Do our investigation, and find reasonable doubt for client. I know, I know, it’s boring, and we might not win. But at least Arabella will be safe.”

  I sighed. I knew that he was right.

  Chapter 33

  Addison - September 5

  I decided that I wasn’t going to allow Arabella to hack Addison’s email account any further, so I went with them to the beach that Saturday. Arabella and Luna were going to start school that Monday, so I wanted to distract Arabella as much as possible that weekend so that she wouldn’t go behind my back and hack Addison anyways.

  On that Monday, I took Arabella and Luna to school and then immediately made an appointment to see Art Loffino. He was somehow in the middle of everything, and I needed to speak with him.

  I always thought that it was odd that he was so aggressive about having Addison declared dead so soon. He had leaned on his son-in-law, Jeff Pappas, so hard that Jeff had no choice but to declare that Addison’s disappearance was a murder within days of her going missing.

  Now, I was thinking that there was something more to it. To all of it. Was it just that Loffino wanted out of Addison’s contract, or was there something else? What that something else was, I didn’t know, but I was going to try to find out.

  I got to his office building, and his assistant led me to his office. He was sitting behind a large desk, looking like he wanted to kill somebody right at that moment.

  “Rebecca,” he shouted at nobody in particular. “Get your ass in here.”

  At that, the blonde assistant, who had showed me back to his office, appeared in the doorway. “I’m sorry, Mr. Loffino, can I help you?”

  “Yeah. I just got a phone call from Joe McGarvey. He tells me that the Fantastic Showman picture is delayed again. I need you to get on the horn, this second, and tell him that I won’t be giving him anymore goddamned money than the money that I’ve already given him to make that goddamned film. You tell him that if he has any cost overruns, he’s gonna eat every goddamned dime. Every goddamned dime. I’m going to take it out of his fucking hide.”

  The poor Rebecca was trembling and nodding her head effusively, while writing on a pad of paper furiously. “Got it. Fantastic Showman, no more money, and-”

  “And no fucking delay. I’ve positioned the release date very strategically, so that it doesn’t bump up against all those fucking Christmas movies that come out in December. It has to be ready for this Oscar season, and tell him that if it isn’t, his ass ain’t working in this town again.”

  I stood there next to the doorway, wondering if the apoplectic Art Loffino was even noticing that I was there. By the way that he screamed at poor Rebecca, who was clearly afraid of him, I figured that he hadn’t yet noticed me, although I didn’t quite know how that was possible. I was right in his line of sight.

  Rebecca scurried out the door and then Art finally looked at me. “Emerson Justice, I assume?” he asked me. He got out a bottle of scotch and poured it into a glass and then downed a handful of Tums and some aspirin. “I got a headache that is out of this world. That goddamned McGarvey, he can’t bring anything in at budget or in time. Nothing. I don’t know why I put up with him and his idiocy. Anyhow, have a seat.”

  I tentatively sat down, thinking that he was going to start screaming at me next. “Um,” I began.

  “You want to ask me about Addison, don’t you?” he asked me.

  “Yes. I do.”

  “And why do you want to ask me about her?” He took a large swig of his whiskey and then leaned back in his chair. “I don’t know what kind of information you think you’re gonna get out of me.”

  I couldn’t tell him that I suspected that he and Addison had some secrets together. I wanted to ask him why it was that he was corresponding with the administrator of Addison’s email account, and why it was that the administrator of her account was still using it. It was all so weird, but there was no way that I could bring up to him what I knew. That would implicate Arabella and, by extension, me. So, I just decided to lie.

  “You’re the CEO of the production company that was producing Addison’s latest film,” I said. “And I just figured that Addison might have confided some information to you that would be relevant to my case.”

  He rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Why the fuck would Addison have confided shit to me?” he asked dismissively. “Listen, I didn’t get along with that wastoid. You heard me screaming about McGarvey costing me goddamned money. Well, McGarvey was a fucking saint compared to Addison Wentworth. That cunt cost me millions over the years with her goddamned no-shows and rehab stays. I couldn’t get insurance for her for years, that’s how fucked-up she was. Addison and me, we didn’t exactly see eye to eye and there was no way that anybody could have ever thought that we were close enough that she would confide anything in me. So, you’re barking up the wrong tree, I’m sorry to say.”

  I wanted to ask him that, if he was so distant from Addison, why was he sending emails to her account, long after she disappeared. “I-”

  “Yeah, so I don’t know crap about what happened to Addison.” He nodded his head. “Except that I think that that Senator did her. That Senator Nash, I think that he’s the one who did her.”

  I cocked my head. “Senator Nash. Why do you think-”

  “He knocked her up.” He took out his bottle of whiskey and then drank it straight from the bottle. “He knocked her up, and she was going to out him to the world for being the sleaze-bag that he is. So, he killed her. That’s what I think happened to her.”

  “What evidence do you have that Senator Nash killed her?”

  He shrugged. “He had motive. He had means and opportunity. Isn’t that all you really need to prove murder these days?”

  “How did you know that Senator Nash fathered Addison’s baby?”

  He looked around, as if he was trying to see if there was anybody who was listening to him. “She gave me this,” he said, taking out a piece of paper. “It’s a DNA test. She had it done on the kid in utero, and she matched it up with the good senator by swabbing his cheek while he slept at her house.”

  I looked at the sheet of paper, which was, in fact, the results of a DNA test that did show that Senator Nash was the father of Addison’s baby.

  “Why do you have this?” I asked him. “I don’t understand. Nobody even knew that she was pregnant, except for Jackson Anderson, and he said that he only knew about it because he was over at her house and saw a pregnancy test in her bathroom trash can. You just told me that you weren’t on good terms with her, so why would she give you a copy of this DNA test?”

  “Never mind how I got this test. I got it, and that’s that.” He shook his head. “You can use that however you wish. I’m just gonna tell you my thoughts, and that is that that senator did her. She was gonna expose his dirty little secret, and then he wasn’t going to be POTUS, thank God for that. Nobody needs a lib like him ruling this country.”

  I look at the DNA test, realizing that there was no way that I was going to be able to use it. I was going to have to actually subpoena a copy of the test, but only after showing the judge just cause on why I was going to need it. Even then, it was going to be extremely difficult to obtain the DNA test through official channels. The HIPAA laws were just too strict and difficult to get around without a firm waiver. That was what was so frustrating when I came across documents like
this DNA paternity test - I really couldn’t use it in court. The only thing that I could do was call Senator Nash and ask him if he got Addison pregnant. If he denied it, there was little I could do to prove it without a shadow of a doubt.

  I could do something extremely unethical, and that was that I could leak the DNA test results to the media. That way, the jury pool would have that bit of information and that could color their decision to let my client go free.

  In theory, a jury wasn’t supposed to let outside information such as DNA test results influence their decisions. In reality, it was difficult to imagine that such information didn’t influence them.

  Unfortunately, I didn’t really know exactly who I was going to leak this information to. I was friends with some people at CNN and MSNBC, and I also had some contacts with some prominent newspapers, including the New York Times and the Washington Post. I knew that all of those outlets would be salivating for a scoop like this one, but I had to consider where I could go in order for this information to have maximum impact.

  I stood up. “Thank you for this,” I said, putting the DNA test results in my purse. I could feel my heart pounding as I thought about the implications for my leaking it. I got this information not from Addison, but from Art Loffino. He claimed that he got it straight from Addison, but that made no sense to me. He told me how much he didn’t get along with Addison, and how frustrated he was that she cost him so much money over the years. He called her a “cunt” for the love of God. You don’t call somebody that particular word unless you really have it in for the woman. Yet, I was supposed to believe that he was the only person who Addison would have given DNA test results that showed that Senator Nash got her pregnant?

  Something wasn’t adding up with Art’s story. That was for sure.

  And, because I was suspicious, I decided to sit on the DNA test results and not leak them. I knew that I would be in huge trouble if it ever were discovered that I was the one who leaked the DNA test results to the media. I could possibly be disbarred for doing such a thing.

  But the reason why I decided against leaking to the media was deeper than my fear that I was going to be in trouble with the California Bar. It was because I didn’t trust it. I didn’t trust Art. I didn’t know how it was that he really got those test results, or even if those test results were real. He certainly could have doctored up the test to show that Senator Nash fathered Addison’s kid, maybe to throw the scent off of himself. Maybe he was the one who killed her, and he went out and had this DNA test document doctored up to show that Senator Nash was the one who killed her.

  But why would Art kill her? That was the only thing. I didn’t really know exactly how it was that he fit into this entire puzzle.

  One thing was for sure - it was still a puzzle, one that had quite a few pieces missing.

  Chapter 34

  I got home, and Arabella was laying on the couch in the den, playing a video game. Luna was in the living room, watching a movie. My mother, who I reluctantly agreed to let watch the girls while I was gone, at least until I could find another nanny, as apparently Angela, my previous nanny, was gone for good, was sitting at the dining room table. She was working on an astrological chart for a friend of hers who was dating a new guy and wanted to know if it would work out. Her glasses were perched in the end of her nose, and her hair was tied up in a bun. She was more reserved than I had ever seen her.

  “How were things today?” I asked her. I was playing with fire, letting her watch the girls, and I knew that. Yet, there was a part of me that was almost ready to go ahead and let her supervise them.

  That was the thing with my mother - she could be responsible sometimes, angelic almost, and I always would forget just what she was like when she was going outer limits. I would forget about the drinking, the occasional blackouts, the 420 habit that she had never been able to kick, even after all these years. And, now that weed was legal, there was really no way that she was going to give it up. I would forget about all the times that she left me alone while she went out with some loser. I would forget about the weird things she did, like holding seances and trying to do Tarot spreads on every stranger she met.

  “They were good, dear,” she said. “You got a piece of mail today.” She passed an envelope to me. “I thought you might want to know. It’s not a bill or a piece of junk mail like you usually get. And it’s from Rome, Italy. I wasn’t aware that you knew anybody overseas.”

  “I don’t know anybody from overseas,” I said. I picked up the envelope, trying to figure out who would be writing me from Italy. I had no idea who it might be.

  “Well, take a look and let me know,” she said. “I have to say that I’m dying of curiosity about it.”

  I looked at the postmark, realizing that it was sent from a Italian post office, and not from a residence, so there was probably little chance that I would be able to identify the sender if the letter happened to be anonymous.

  I had a feeling that that was just what was going to happen - I had a feeling that the writer of the letter was not going to want to identify himself or herself. I knew that the reason why I thought that was because that was how things were in this entire case - lots of mysterious events happening, with nobody willing to identify themselves as the person who was responsible. From the Go Fund Me, to Chris Warford, who wouldn’t identify the person who hired him, there had been way too many mysterious happenings and it was frustrating the living hell out of me.

  I opened the envelope and read it.

  Dear Ms. Justice,

  You don’t know me, and, I’m very sorry, but I can’t identify myself to you. There’s a very good reason why I can’t come out and tell you who I am, but I will tell you that I have good information for you about your client, Carter Dixon. I will tell you that I know Mr. Dixon to be absolutely innocent. I have a very firm belief about this, and I have proof that he is innocent.

  I am writing this to you because I want to impress upon you the importance of giving Mr. Dixon the best defense that you can possibly give him. Leave no stone unturned. You must do a very thorough investigation and pull out every stop to make sure that he is not found guilty of Addison Wentworth’s murder.

  I’m very sorry that I cannot tell you more than this. I do understand that Senator Nash was responsible for impregnating Addison, so I would like for you to look in his direction. It will be exceedingly difficult to prove that he was behind Addison’s murder. He’s a very powerful man and very wealthy. He also has a wife that is shrewd, very shrewd. She’s really the power behind the throne. But if you can get around all of that, you might find evidence that will point to Senator Nash as being the guilty party. That would be how I would approach your case when you get it in front of the jury. Pound away on Senator Nash. If you can show the jury that Senator Nash has motive, means and opportunity, you will be able to get your client off of the murder charge.

  Thank you very much for reading this letter. Again, I’m very sorry that I can’t tell you more about who I am. I will tell you, though, that I’m following this case with a great deal of interest.

  Regards,

  Unfortunately, there was no signature at the bottom. There was no name below the word “Regards,” which was the usual state of a letter. It was just as I feared - the person who wrote this typed-out letter could be literally anybody. The only thing that I knew was that the person apparently was currently in Rome, Italy, because this was where the letter originated. Other than that, I knew nothing about the author of this letter.

  But, once again, I was being directed to look at Senator Nash. Art Loffino told me to look at him. Now this anonymous person was doing the same thing. They both were telling me about Addison’s pregnancy, which struck me as terribly weird. I still hadn’t read a word about her being pregnant in the newspapers. I hadn’t heard it reported on the television. I never even saw anything about it on the Internet. It seemed that this piece of information was kept under wraps. Yet Art knew about it. This anonymous perso
n knew about it. Jackson Anderson knew about it. With all these people holding onto this very important piece of information, how was it that it hadn’t gotten out to the public at large yet?

  “What is that letter, dear?” mom asked me.

  “It’s a letter telling me that my client is absolutely innocent, and that I need to be diligent about the case. It also recommended that I look at Senator Nash for a suspect. That’s weird, because this letter is the second time today that I’ve been told to look at Senator Nash. It’s also peculiar because this person somehow has information that very few people have.”

  Mom nodded her head. “Yes. I think that it’s very weird, but I think that you already know the answer to all of this. You do. You just choose not to see it. It’s something that you haven’t even considered, although you really should have.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Mom, please don’t be cryptic on me. Please.”

  “Dear, it all makes perfect sense. Now, didn’t you tell me that the LLC that was responsible for Carter’s Go Fund Me is called Angel Eyes? And didn’t you tell me that the person who you talked to about it, Dominic or whatever his name is…”

  “Devon McDaniel. He’s an attorney who specializes in forming LLCs for shell companies and people who wish to remain anonymous.”

  “Yes. Well, didn’t he tell you that it has to do with that movie, The Good, The Bad and The Ugly?”

  “He did. But I’ll tell you, mother, I don’t know what to do with that particular piece of information. I don’t know enough about that movie to see what the relevance would be. I did do some research on the actor who portrayed Angel Eyes, Lee Van Cleef, but I don’t get what he has to do with anything, either. I mean, that piece of information is worse than pursuing a needle in a haystack. At least with the needle in the haystack, you know for a fact that that needle is in there somewhere. But with this…”