Murder of the Eccentric Billionaire: A Jolene Park-Attorney At Law, Cozy Mystery

by Liz Turner

“Yes, exactly. Tell them I need something analyzed. I need it rushed through today. I can have it to them by noon.”

  “Okay, right away.”

  ***

  Jolene drove back to the office to wait for the lab results, but when she got there, Molly immediately pulled her aside.

  “Jolene, a Detective Simon is here to speak to you,” she said, jerking her head toward the conference room.

  Jolene’s heart flipped. Wasn’t that the name of the arresting officer in the Lucy Fielder case? “What does he want?” she asked.

  Molly lowered her voice. “He wants to question you about evidence tampering.”

  Jolene grinned. “The lab results came back?”

  “Yes,” Molly whispered.

  “And?”

  “Contained a nitro-glycerin compound.”

  Jolene blew air out her mouth and then quickly strode to the conference room.

  “Hello. Detective Simon, is it?” Jolene said once she’d entered, offering a handshake. “I apologize for my attire. I had an errand to run this morning.”

  The detective was of average height, with a full and tidy beard. He wore dark-framed glasses that enlarged the appearance of his green eyes. “Jolene Park?” he said.

  “What can I do for you?”

  His eyes flashed. “Frankly, Ms. Park, we want to know what the hell you’re doing.”

  “You’ll have to be more specific, Detective Simon.”

  “We’re in the middle of investigating an extremely high-profile murder. And then we find out some lady lawyer is out there visiting crime scenes and producing evidence for the case—without contacting the police.” He took a deep breath. He seemed to realize abruptly that he’d gotten too close to Jolene and stepped back. “Are you Ms. Fielder’s defense? Because we weren’t told she had a lawyer. Nor that she was in any condition to speak to anybody, let alone advocate for herself in this way.”

  “I’m not,” Jolene replied.

  “You’re not what?” Simon asked angrily.

  “Not her defense attorney.” Jolene sat down and poured herself a glass of water. “Although, I am a defense attorney. One of the best in Southern California, actually. Or, my firm is, rather. But I built it.” She shrugged. “And that means I know when the state is moving forward with the easy prosecution and not doing their due diligence to uncover the truth in order to avoid spending resources on investigating. You know, cutting corners by just saddling a young and troubled girl with the murder in a quickie trial.” Her words were met with stunned silence, Jolene continued stonily, “You said yourself she’s not in any condition to advocate for herself. Is that how you like your defendants, detective?”

  Detective Simon picked his briefcase off the floor and moved to leave. Right before reaching the door, he turned around, his face red. “You better be sure you’re doing everything above-board. I think I can charge you with evidence tampering if not obstruction of justice. And don’t think I won’t.” He then turned back around and left the office in a huff.

  Jolene breathed a sigh of relief.

  Molly quickly jogged into the room, her expression bewildered. “I heard everything. Can he really charge you?” she asked.

  Jolene shook her head although she didn’t feel convinced. “I don’t think so. But I need to know what they know.” She glanced at Molly. “I can’t get justice for Lucy if I’m in jail. Call Officer Cornuck.”

  Soon, Jolene had Cornuck on the line. He was an officer that Jolene had dated a few years ago. Though the relationship had fizzled, they remained friends. She knew he worked at the same precinct as Detective Simon if not in the same department.

  “Hi Frank,” she said into the phone receiver in her office, trying to keep her voice casual.

  “Hey…How are you?”

  “You’ve heard,” Jolene replied flatly.

  “Hold on just a second, Pam,” he replied. A minute later, he said, “Jolene, what are you calling me for? I can’t be talking to someone on the hook for evidence tampering! Not that I’m not thrilled to hear from you, but geez.” His voice was low, and Jolene could hear the sound of cars whizzing by in the distance. She figured he must have taken his cellphone outside.

  “Well, that’s kind of the reason I’m calling, Frank. I need a favor.”

  Cornuck sighed audibly. “What is it?” he asked after a pause.

  “I just need to know what they have on me. Do they have a real case with the evidence tampering thing? Do I need to prepare myself?”

  “Well,” he paused again. “I don’t think so, but Simon is gunning for it. They found another bottle in Toluca Lake—one that does contain the remains of potassium cyanide. I don’t know how, but they got wind of your finding and the lab results from it…”

  “And they think I planted the first bottle to try to exonerate Lucy.”

  “Yes,” Cornuck whispered. “And they’ve got the ice cream vendor down at the beach claiming he saw you throw something into the lake.”

  Chapter 4

  Pure Form

  A few hours later, Jolene and Molly were angling Jolene’s small car through the droves of after-work traffic on the highway. A large semi-truck zoomed up beside them, blocking Jolene’s view of the traffic ahead. She cursed under her breath.

  Molly turned down the radio. “Are you okay?” she asked gently.

  Jolene shot her a glance and loosened her death grip on the steering wheel. “Yes,” she said, shaking slightly. “Just…Traffic. It drives me crazy.”

  “Yeah, it’s the worst,” Molly agreed. “And how about that semi? Can’t there be a separate road for big vehicles like that? They always clog up everything.”

  Just then, Jolene spotted a space in the lane to her left and accelerated towards it, narrowly missing hitting the car in front of her. “Phew,” she said, cracking a half-smile.

  “So, would you hire John to defend you if you were officially accused of tampering with evidence?” Molly asked, shifting in her seat.

  Jolene flinched. The whole situation put her on edge. Had she gone in too far this time? The state didn’t appreciate unofficial involvements in their cases, especially not with one this high-profile. Foster Fielder was a big name.

  Jolene’s stomach felt heavy. “Let’s just talk to Deblasio first before we plan my defense,” she said.

  Molly nodded. “Of course. How much longer?”

  “The lab is right off the next exit. Technically, about five minutes. But in this traffic, who knows?” She gripped the steering wheel, growing agitated again.

  Finally, they pulled into the wide parking lot at the lab—a drab single-story brick building with few windows.

  Jolene swung her bag over her shoulder as she and Molly entered, their heels clacking noisily on the linoleum floor.

  “Do you think they’ve all left?” Molly whispered.

  “Why are you talking so low?” Jolene asked.

  Molly shrugged.

  But Jolene understood. The place felt eerily quiet, and not in the way that a library or museum might. It felt deserted. Abandoned. The walls were painted light blue, and the ceiling had the foam tiling often found in schools. But there was no reception desk or doorman, and while the overhead lights were on, the lack of natural lighting made it seem much later than six-thirty p.m.

  Jolene gestured to Molly and began walking down one of the hallways, cringing at the echo their heels sent through the building.

  If someone’s here, they should certainly hear us loud and clear by now, Jolene thought.

  Every five feet, there was a windowless door with a keypad above the doorknob. She tried one of the handles and unsurprisingly found it locked.

  “Maybe they’ve all left for the day, Jo,” Molly said, still whispering. “It is after five.”

  “Jacob Deblasio said he’d be here,” Jolene mumbled. “They don’t keep normal office hours.” Nevertheless, she was getting worried, wondering if he’d forgotten about their meeting and left early. She contemplated calli
ng his name to see if he would respond. Meanwhile, she yanked another door handle to no avail.

  “Er, hello?” said a voice behind them. A young woman wearing a white lab coat had appeared. She had frizzy hair that pinged out from her head in all directions with little curls and was carrying a small white box in her hands. “Can I help you?”

  “Yes,” Jolene said, relieved. “We’re looking for Jacob Deblasio. We called. Perhaps he’s forgotten about our meeting?”

  The woman’s eyes flashed briefly. “Oh, he’s in the other wing. We don’t get many visitors, and we tend to get rather wrapped up in our work here. He probably just lost track of time.” She flung one of her hands over her head. “With the lack of windows, you just never know! Unless you’re constantly checking your watch. And even then, stay in long enough and you’ll start disbelieving your watch. ‘It can’t possibly be midnight! I’ve only been working for three hours!’” She laughed.

  Jolene chuckled. “As a workaholic myself, I completely understand. Although our big windows don’t let us pretend we’re not working late every day.” As she spoke, she inwardly marveled over how soundlessly the woman had moved through the hallways. She then noticed that her walking shoes were covered with protective bags that dampened her footsteps.

  “So, Miss—”

  “Carrie,” the woman said.

  “Carrie.” Jolene smiled. “I tried to find the lab online, but there didn’t seem to be a website or much information at all about it. What is it you primarily do here if you don’t mind me asking?”

  “We’re new. Right now, we’re more focused on the work than PR. We mostly work in preparing different pharmaceuticals.”

  Jolene nodded thoughtfully. “Is it dangerous? The work? I’m so dense about this stuff. The doors were all locked, so I wondered…”

  Carrie laughed. “No, no. Not really. Just expensive. Well,” she paused, “I suppose there are some things that might be inadvertently dangerous to someone who’s not informed. For two women who wander in off the street, for example.” She winked at Molly.

  “What do you mean?” Jolene asked. She had a hunch though and felt she was better off testing Carrie than Jacob Deblasio.

  “Well, certain base substances are dangerous in their pure form before being used in chemical prep. Things like mercury, potassium cyanide. Even nicotine.” Carrie stopped at a door to their right. “Here we are. Just don’t go opening any strange containers or inhaling too deeply, and you should be just fine.” She smiled and quickly typed in a code on the keypad. A clicking noise went off, and she swung the door open. “Hi, Jacob. Did you forget you had guests?”

  A figure was bent over a microscope, shrouded in a white coat, white scrub pants, shoe coverings, a surgical mask, and black glasses. It straightened suddenly, gasping upon seeing the three women in the doorway. He yanked back the sleeve on his coat to reveal a watch.

  “Is it really seven o’clock?” came his muffled voice. He began carefully covering whatever he’d been examining and then removed his surgical mask, revealing a kind face with a long pointy nose. He hastily moved to wash his hands before approaching them, embarrassed. “I apologize. I should have met you in the lobby. This place is a maze.” He shook his head. “I completely lost track of time.”

  “What did I tell you?” Carrie said cheekily to Jolene and Molly as she shot a pouty look at Jacob. “But I can’t blame him. Ever since we got this new grant…well, let’s just say we don’t want to waste any time.” She laughed and lightly punched Jacob on the arm.

  Jolene wondered briefly if there was something more between these two than a professional relationship. But then she figured they were probably just good friends who were regularly cooped together working long hours every day.

  “Hi. Jacob Deblasio? I’m Jolene Park, and this is my colleague, Molly Saks.”

  Jacob smiled and shook her hand. “Thank you for showing them the way here,” he said to Carrie. “I’ve got it now.”

  The woman nodded and swiftly exited the room.

  “So,” Jacob said, still looking slightly uncomfortable, “you think you can help Lucy get out of this?” His expression suddenly went blank. “I’ve been, of course, considering hiring a lawyer for her. But the police keep assuring me that nothing will be done until she’s, er, recovered completely.”

  Jolene smiled.

  Molly laid a hand on the man’s shoulder. “This must be so difficult for you,” she said.

  “Have you been able to see her? In the hospital, I mean?” Jolene asked.

  Jacob nodded. “Yes.”

  “And how does she seem?”

  He faltered, fingering the surgical mask he had looped over his arm. “She’s…okay.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  He sighed, looking troubled. “She seems fine. Like her old self almost. Except, at any mention of her uncle, she clams up and gets confused. Sometimes she starts talking in an unusually high volume about nonsense and pacing the room, often to the point where one of the nurses has to sedate her. It’s like she can’t bear to think about it.”

  “You think she feels guilty?” Jolene pressed.

  “I think she didn’t do it,” he snapped. He rubbed his face with his hands and Jolene noticed his eyes appeared watery as he offered a sad smile. “You can see why I’d want to lose myself in here. This place is a fortress against the outside world.”

  “I understand,” Jolene said. “I think the state is jumping the gun going after Lucy like this. There’s still more to investigate. Can you think of any person who might want to frame her?”

  Jacob thought for a minute, his shoulders slumped. “I have no idea,” he said with a detectable note of desperation. “She was… she is… just…she wouldn’t harm anybody!”

  “Of course she wouldn’t,” Molly said while Jolene evaded her gaze. “That’s why we’re here. We want to uncover the truth about what happened.”

  Jacob shrugged. “I don’t know how I can help.”

  Jolene knew what she needed to ask, but didn’t want to scare him off just yet. Still, the coincidence was too great to ignore. She took a deep breath. “Jacob,” she said, looking the young man in the eye, “have you noticed whether you’re missing any potassium cyanide?”

  Terror filled Jacob’s eyes. He blinked, almost robotically reverting his expression to neutral. “No,” he answered.

  Jolene sighed. “Listen, I don’t think that Lucy took that potassium cyanide and poisoned her uncle with it. But if I was able to pretty quickly discover that the lab her fiancé works for deals in a lot of the stuff, the police won’t be far behind. They’ll question you, your colleagues, and supervisors, as well as go through your inventory with a fine-toothed comb. So if one of your bottles of potassium cyanide has turned up missing lately, you should tell me right now, or at least prepare an explanation for when they come for you.”

  “I—sh—she didn’t take it. She didn’t,” Jacob stammered, no longer attempting to hide his fear.

  “It’s too bad you two aren’t married,” Molly quipped. “They can’t make you testify against your spouse in court. That is, if she did steal the poison from your lab and you knew about it.”

  “Or suspected,” Jolene added. She watched Jacob carefully. She could tell he was frightened, but couldn’t decide if it was because he was lying, or simply worried about his fiancé’s future.

  He opened his mouth to say something when muffled sirens began blaring angrily outside. He looked searchingly toward Molly and Jolene for a second and then grabbed a messenger bag off a stool before running down the hallway.

  “What was that about?” Molly asked.

  The sirens grew louder until it was evident that they were right outside the lab. A dozen or so people in white lab coats like Jacob’s seemed to appear from nowhere into the hallway, heading for the door and worriedly talking amongst themselves.

  Jolene looked at Molly and put her finger to her lips. No sense in having the police know I was at
another one of their evidence sites, she thought as she led Molly in the opposite direction, where they escaped out a back door without being seen.

  Chapter 5

  Resentment

  The Fielder residence was a sprawling multi-building estate. A large iron gate rounded the property, but did little to offer privacy. Foster Fielder seemed to have wanted his wealth immediately apparent to passers-by. His neighbors, if you could call them that, lived so far down the road that their homes couldn’t be seen from his. Bright green grass blanketed the lawn that led to the main residence, in addition to all the others, unencumbered by bushes or plants, save for a row of neatly planted palm trees lining the drive to the side garage. The home itself was made of sturdy light brick walls, had a domed gray roof, and high arched white-washed doorways.

  Jolene pulled her sunglasses to the top of her head as she peered through the bars of the gate, taking in the scene as she waited to be buzzed in. She had a meeting with Lucas and Rebekah Auen, Lucy’s aunt and uncle, who had been apparently living in the Foster household for some time. They seemed to Jolene to be the perfect people to testify to Lucy’s relationship with Foster, and since the state hadn’t made any moves to secure them as witnesses for the inevitable trial, Jolene suspected their loyalties might lie with their young niece.

  Or, she thought, biting her lip, Lucy has already been coerced into pleading guilty and now witnesses aren’t needed…

  She had called the Auen’s to explain that she believed Lucy was being railroaded into fitting the state’s idea of the guilty party. Lucas, to whom she’d spoken, had sounded sad and somber on the phone. Nevertheless, he agreed, if somewhat apathetically, to have Jolene over for lunch to see if they could help in any way.

  A clicking sound came from the big gate before it opened noiselessly. When Jolene had parked her car, she stepped her way down the manicured path to the front door. The arched doorway towered above her comically; the house was even bigger than it looked. Before she had a chance to ring the bell, a man with wiry black hair receding past his ears opened the door.

  He smiled politely and stepped aside to let her pass. “You must be Jolene Park.”