Sins of the Mother

by B K Johnson

  At that, Geoff had stood, enraged, and called Samantha every foul name in the book. Cox had to remove him from the room in order to complete the deposition. Tommy wasn’t proud of her part in chronicling the sordid affair. But at least she hadn’t felt guilty of having done anything wrong herself.

  All of that changed when she picked up her phone at its insistent ringing. She was surprised to find that the voice on the other end of the line was Clayton Cox. He brusquely commanded her to get over to his office ASAP. “What’s the rush, Clay,” Tommy queried. She could hear Clay’s deep intake of breath before he said, “Samantha Gage has been found murdered in her home, lying on her bed with a bullet in her head.”

  “Good Lord,” exclaimed Tommy. “Has Geoff been arrested?”

  “Not yet,” replied Clay, “but I expect him to be any time now. I need you here to go over anything you uncovered during your surveillance of Samantha that can help us now.”

  “Okay,” relented Tommy. “I’m on my way.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  As far as Loke was concerned, everything was progressing nicely. She had perfected the alluring, demure mien that she knew to be attractive to Dave. Several times during class instruction she had noticed him watching her with a disguised lust in his eyes. When she was called upon to answer questions, she made sure to lower her lashes and pucker her lips, as if she had to think about what she was going to say. It didn’t really matter to her whether she answered the questions correctly. All that mattered was that she kept Dave’s attention on her. There were a few other younger students who might offer her some competition, so Loke was determined to peak Dave’s interest by whatever means worked, fair or foul.

  When she was not in class, Loke continued to make preparations in her home. She’d had to make one hurried trip back to California, but upon her return had bolted two chairs to the floor of the garage, once the workmen had soundproofed it to her satisfaction. She was no longer able to park her Volvo in it, since the garage door had been bolted shut to facilitate the soundproofing. Her explanation was that she was going to be practicing hula with friends of hers who played the ukulele and drums, and she didn’t want to disturb the neighborhood at night, when most of the rehearsals would take place. Several of the neighbors were aware Loke had been a professional hula dancer, so no one questioned her motives or opposed her building permit.

  There were only two more classes to attend when she decided to make her play for Dave. At the conclusion of his lecture, all of the other students were making their way to the door when Loke approached him at the blackboard.

  “Excuse me,” she murmured seductively, “I just have to apologize to you for my inattentiveness to the subject matter this evening. I am having a great deal of difficulty concentrating on anything tonight.”

  “What’s going on,” Dave queried. “Are you in any trouble?

  Loke surreptitiously laughed to herself, thinking that was a typical response for Dave. She had studied all of his pictures and girlfriends and style for the last few months, and knew him to be a chivalrous male who considered himself at his best when rescuing damsels in distress. Her research was what allowed her to choose to represent herself as a much younger, less-sophisticated, Polynesian woman. Her long hair, greatly reduced makeup, and soft pastel sundresses lent her an air of innocence she knew she no longer possessed.

  “Oh, no, Mr. Lee. It isn’t that. It’s just that I, well, um, I find that I am attracted to you, and it keeps my mind from focusing on the study lessons. Omigod, did that sound forward? Please forgive me.” She bowed her head and shook it slowly back and forth, as if she had committed some unpardonable sin.

  “Please call me Dave, Loke,” he urged her. “And no, I don’t think it is forward of you. I have struggled myself with paying attention to other students when all I really want to do is look at you. I am so flattered to think you could be interested in me.” He gently placed his hand on her shoulder, and both of them felt the quick jolt of electricity surge through their bodies.

  “Did you feel that,” Loke asked.

  “Most assuredly, yes,” responded Dave. “It wasn’t a shock, but something far more pleasant, don’t you agree?”

  “It went through my whole body,” shuddered Loke. “And it was a very pleasant experience.”

  She reached her hand out to Dave, who took hold of it, saying very seriously, “Loke, I am so sorry but I have to let you know that I can’t possibly begin a relationship with one of my students, no matter how enticing she may be. I hope you understand.”

  “Well,” considered Loke. “I know how we can remedy that situation. All I have to do is resign the course, isn’t that so?”

  Dave remonstrated, “I certainly don’t want you to have to leave the class, just when we are so close to finishing it. You would lose the credits you have worked hard to obtain.”

  “Oh, I don’t really need them,” Loke demurred. “It’s not like I am working toward a degree or anything. I just wanted to learn more about my own legal rights and how the laws have changed. And I have already accomplished that goal, don’t you think?”

  “Yes, I think you have, Loke,” agreed Dave. “Tell you what. If you’re sure, I’ll just write up this class withdrawal for you and you can sign it. Then we could go out for some dessert, if you would care to.”

  “Oh,” signed Loke. “I am so relieved. I don’t take tests very well, and this means I won’t have to face one,” she giggled coquettishly.

  Dave hastily found a withdrawal notice, and gave it to Loke, who signed and dated it immediately. When she handed it over to Dave, his hand lingered on the top of her palm, and the slightest tingling sensation passed between them.

  “Come on,” Dave suggested. “Let’s get out of here and go to Hamura’s for some pie. I’ll take my car, okay?”

  “Certainly,” Loke assented. He guided her across the parking lot to a new, black BMW and held the passenger door open for her. While he went around to the driver’s side, Loke carefully crossed her left leg over her right, and positioned her dress to expose a slight bit of tender flesh on her left thigh. When Dave put his hand on the gearshift, he literally had to restrain his hand from going the few inches further to stroke that tempting velvety skin.

  Their evening lasted only a few hours as they sat at Hamura’s in Waikiki, but they made the most of it. Loke told him some of the truth of her background, and Dave was enamored of her even more. He had never dated a hula dancer before, and his mind was already leaping forward to wondering if the sensuous moves of the hula dancer translated into a more erotic sexual encounter. He had no trouble at all entertaining Loke with stories of his college years, and how being one of Honolulu’s most eligible bachelors had brought him more than his fair share of publicity. Loke was secretly grateful, since it was the publicity that gave her enough information to transform herself into a woman Dave would not be able to resist.

  While Dave talked, Loke watched his expressive, handsome face, and realized that if circumstances were different she could very well imagine falling in love with him. His exuberance was charming, and he was very solicitous of her. Loke believed that Dave was a sincere, intelligent, gentle man, who was not at all aware of how his masculine looks brought many an admiring glance his way. She truly wished, of all people, Dave was not Tommy’s best friend.

  Dave apologized for monopolizing so much of the conversation, marveling at what a great listener Loke was. He could not help but stare into her liquid brown eyes, and see a soul mate there. He was tired of the bachelor life and was anxious to find someone he could settle down and grow old with. She seemed more than perfect, and he was hopeful their relationship would progress at a rapid pace. He couldn’t believe his good fortune that she had actually been willing to forego the remainder of the course just so that could fraternize with each other outside of the classroom.

  He moved the table to give Loke more room and went to her side to help her up. He slid his hand under her elbow and coaxed
her out of the restaurant and into the cool night air. They both breathed in the tropical scents of plumeria and gardenia that bordered the grounds. Shyly, they each smiled into each other’s faces and waited for the valet to bring the BMW around. Dave did not want this evening to end, but he had a full schedule beginning at 6 in the morning. It was already 11:00 p.m., and he knew he would be no match for any of his legal adversaries if he did not get home to bed shortly.

  He drove Loke back to the satellite school and expressed his reluctance to leave her to drive home alone. She said she understood the need for him to get adequate rest, and promised that they would see each other again shortly, just not in the classroom. Loke gave him her cell phone number and told him to call anytime. Assuring her that he would, Dave waited for Loke to get behind the wheel of her Volvo before following her out of the parking lot. When their paths diverged, his heading east and hers heading north, he beeped his horn at her and she tapped her own horn in response. They lifted their hands and waved good-by. As Loke drove back to Kailua, she luxuriated in a sense of accomplishment. She was sure she had Dave well and truly hooked, and now all she had to do was reel him in.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Clayton Cox was the founder of one of the most prestigious law firms in San Francisco, and his office gave testament to his expertise in the area of family law. It was located on the 16th floor of the Transamerica Pyramid and occupied the entire west wing.

  A burnished hardwood floor shined in the reception area, and an absolutely stunning Persian carpet with vivid gold, red, blue and green depicting a garden scene covered the unexposed areas of wood. The young, voluptuous brunette sitting at the reception desk was flirting with the UPS deliveryman when Tommy entered the lobby.

  No one else was waiting to see the great man or his underlings, so Tommy went straight up to the desk and interrupted the steamy conversation the couple were having. Even though she had literally flown here in her Jetta, she was still a few minutes late, due to the parking garage being almost full. The receptionist, whose nametag blared Margot, gave Tommy a frosty look and asked her whom she was here to see. Tommy replied that Clayton Cox had requested her presence, and Margot immediately told the young man she would see him later, buzzing the intercom to let Mr. Cox know Tommy was in the waiting area. Within minutes, Clay himself came and gave Tommy a hug and a warm greeting, ushering her personally into his inner sanctum.

  On the walls of his 2000 square foot domain were pictures of Clay with former governors Ronald Reagan, Jerry Brown, and Gray Davis, along with numerous other famous California and San Francisco politicians and celebrities. Former Mayors Feinstein, Moscone, and Alioto were represented as well as Schwartzeneger, Brown and Gavin Newsom. Each of these politicians was glad handing Mr. Cox for the photographer. But the largest image was the one preserved for the legendary Barry Bonds. Although Clay had not represented Barry in his divorce from his wife, he had been instrumental in researching and assisting Barry’s lawyers in presenting the argument over his prenuptial agreement to the California Supreme Court. The case was won by the Bonds legal team, perhaps not so much for the reason that it had a sound legal basis or that the prenup was extraordinarily carefully drafted, as due to the fact that the all-male Supreme Court was more concerned that their own trophy wives could avoid the consequences of a prenup if they did not rule in Barry’s favor.

  Tommy barely had time to take in the photographs, Clay’s own beautiful oriental rug, the rich walnut furniture consisting of an entire wall of bookshelf loaded with legal tomes, his immense heavy desk, a sculpted conference table, and Waterford crystal vases everywhere holding fresh flowers. Clay’s office was larger than Duke’s gym, and Geoff Gage seemed dwarfed by the immensity of the habitat.

  Geoff bounded over to Tommy, exclaiming, “I swear to you, I didn’t do it. You have to help me get out of this mess, Tommy!”

  Clay laid his hand on Geoff’s shoulder and advised him to calm down, gently guiding him to the black leather sofa angled in front of and to the left of Clay’s desk. He gestured to Tommy to take the matching black recliner to the right of his desk, and Tommy gratefully sank into its plush comfort. Geoff’s onslaught and hysterical protest had unnerved her somewhat, and she waited for Clay to sink into his own black leather executive chair before she spoke.

  “So, what do we know?” she queried.

  Geoff started to respond and Clay shushed him saying, “Remember, Geoff, lawyer-client confidentiality applies to our conversations, but the confidentiality privilege between a private investigator and client is not as religiously protected by the courts. We have to be careful what we say in Tommy’s presence, in the event she is called to testify.”

  “Don’t worry about me blowing any privileges,” huffed Tommy. “I never did it as a lawyer and I have yet to do it as a private investigator. I have been called to testify almost as many times as I appeared in court as a counselor, and I have never been threatened by a judge with contempt of court for refusing to answer a question once I asserted a confidential communication.”

  “I meant no disrespect, Tommy,” asserted Clay. “There’s always a first time, however, and I don’t intend for it to come up in Geoff’s defense.”

  “So we are definitely looking at a criminal trial, then,” mused Tommy. “

  “The police were here 15 minutes ago, inquiring about Geoff’s whereabouts,” replied Clay. They have a warrant for his arrest. Fortunately, Ashley, my legal secretary, was unaware Geoff had come in through the privacy door into my office, so she told them we had no idea where Geoff was, and that I was unavailable. She saw the arrest warrant and informed me of it as soon as they left. To her surprise, she saw Geoff pacing the floor right in front of my desk.”

  “God, I can’t believe they would really think I would be stupid enough to shoot my wife in my own home and in our own bed,” Geoff protested.

  “They must have some evidence that points directly to you, Geoff, other than your being the cuckolded husband. If you can call a lesbian affair a cuckolding.” Clay laughed weakly at his own poor attempt at humor. “Tommy, you have a number of contacts in the police force, and I would appreciate your trying to find out what they have against Geoff. As you know, I am not a criminal lawyer, and specialize in family law only. I have dealt with any number of criminal lawyers, but want an idea of what the basis for the arrest is before I recommend one to Geoff. I am sure that the prenup and affair will be raised as motive, so I will have to be involved in the criminal trial at some point in time and I have no intention of allowing just any criminal defense attorney examining me in the presence of the court regarding the prenup.”

  “Jesus,” interrupted Geoff. “My freedom and reputation are far more important than your stupid prenup and family law reputation. The lawyer who defends me is going to be someone I choose, not you.”

  “I am sure we can agree on someone acceptable, Geoff,” insisted Clay.

  “Look, Tommy,” Geoff exclaimed. “I admit I was blindsided by Samantha having an affair with that Daniella chick. It did make me really mad. But if I had killed that my cheating wife, I would have punched her in the mouth, busting all of those thousands of dollars of porcelain crowns and veneers I paid for. Then I would have fucked her in that deep throat of hers until she choked to death on my come. That would have been my style of revenge, not some simple sexless gunshot to the temple.”

  Clay jumped up from his chair and roared, “That’s just the kind of fucking thing I’m talking about. You can’t say that kind of shit in front of Tommy. What if that came out in the trial? Every juror would vote to convict you just on your foul mouth and disgusting way you would consider killing your wife. Don’t you get it?” he steamed.

  “Your mouth is just as foul as mine, counselor,” intoned Geoff. “And don’t you forget for one instant who is paying your fucking bill. You are employed by me, asshole, not the other way around. And if you had drafted that goddamn prenup more skillfully, I would never have had to worry th
at it wouldn’t hold up in the divorce. That’s the real reason the cops look at me as having a motive.”

  “Gentlemen,” spoke Tommy. Her calm and assertive manner caused both men to finally remember they had a woman in their presence, and Clay immediately apologized for his language.

  “I don’t give a fuck about you swearing or talking like drunken sailors. I’ve heard and spoken worse,” Tommy fumed. “What I am concerned about it that you should be allies, not pointing the finger at one another. The cops love a divide and conquer battle. We have to turn our attention to what we can do about the problem, not ascribe blame for it having arisen.”

  “You are absolutely right,” agreed Clay. “I am sorry about my outburst, however.”

  “ Me, too,” asserted Geoff. He now looked completely deflated and chagrined, shaking his head that he could have voiced aloud the very scenario he had contemplated to rid himself of his disloyal wife. “I’m sorry, Clay,” he lamented. “I know you did your best. Who would have guessed that Samantha was bisexual and you’d have to specifically provide in the prenup that even a lesbian affair would trigger the prohibition penalties. I wouldn’t have. And believe me, I loved my wife and I will miss her terribly.” With that he started to sob, the reality of Samantha’s permanent loss taking hold.

  “Okay,” interjected Tommy, trying to turn the situation around. “Let’s get to work and figure out what the cops have, who is the best attorney to defend Geoff, and most of all, who really did kill Samantha. Agreed?”

  “You bet,” replied Clay. Geoff listlessly agreed. With that they commenced a marathon session in strategy.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  For the last 72 hours Tommy had been working almost non-stop investigating Samantha’s murder. She had learned that the police had a Glock in their possession that had already been tested and determined to be the murder weapon. The only fingerprints on it were Geoff Gage’s. The bullet removed from Samantha’s brain had been fired from the Glock, which was licensed in Geoff’s name. There was also an incriminating voicemail message from Geoff to Samantha, which purportedly stated, “You aren’t going to get away with this, you cheating little cunt.” The message had been left the day after Samantha’s deposition, just 48 hours prior to her death.