Improper Influence

by Melissa F. Miller

  “It is. Can we talk privately?”

  Diana bobbed her head and then snapped at her secretary. “Hold my calls.”

  She swept back into her office, and Sasha followed, after giving the harried-looking secretary an encouraging smile.

  Diana had put her stamp on her office. The standard-issue dark wood furniture, so masculine and serious, was covered with vases of colorful fresh-cut flowers and pastel ceramic pottery. A sheer window dressing fluttered across the top of the large window behind her desk, softening the cold, institutional window frame.

  She didn’t take her seat or direct Sasha to a chair. Instead she stood in the middle of her office and dropped all pretense of friendliness.

  “So, what’s your problem?”

  Sasha stood across from the taller woman. She was forced to crane her neck back to meet Diana’s eyes.

  “Oh, I don’t have a problem, you have the problem.”

  Diana stiffened. “Is that so?”

  “Well, I’d consider it a problem if I were the District Attorney and someone within city government was violating Section 4702.”

  Sasha watched Diana’s eyes widen in shock and then narrow with distrust.

  “4702—threats and other improper influence? Are you suggesting a government official is being blackmailed or threatened?”

  “Oh, no, I know a government employee has been physically attacked and retaliated against in an effort to prevent him from carrying out the duties of his office. What I’m suggesting is that the attacker is also a member of city government.”

  She stared impassively at Diana.

  The older woman swore under her breath and then sighed, a long, slow sigh.

  “I guess you should have a seat,” she said with palpable reluctance, waving vaguely in the direction of two Queen Anne chairs.

  Sasha took the closer of the two, and Diana sat across from her and leaned forward, close enough that Sasha could smell her heady, floral perfume.

  Sasha gathered her thoughts. She needed to deliver a story that impelled Diana to take action without providing any details.

  Diana watched her face in silence, with her legs crossed and one high-heeled foot swinging like a metronome.

  “You’re aware that four young women have recently died from myocarditis?”

  “Of course.”

  “The coroner, er—forensic pathologist—who did the first three autopsies has been followed, mugged, and robbed in the past several days.”

  “And you think his troubles are related to his autopsies?”

  “I do.”

  “Has he been threatened? Has anyone told him to make a specific finding or else?”

  “Not in so many words—”

  Diana cut her off. “Then how can you establish someone, let alone someone within city government, is trying to influence him?”

  “Well, his files on those three cases disappeared. Then he was placed on administrative leave. Now he’s been fired. It seems fairly clear that someone—either someone in the Medical Examiner’s Office or even higher up in the food chain—wants to keep him quiet.”

  “Quiet about what? The Chief Medical Examiner’s official position is that those deaths are unrelated.”

  “This employee disagrees.”

  “You mean, this former employee disagrees.” Diana leaned back, and her features relaxed. She smiled broadly. “As you undoubtedly know, the statute prohibits threatening or otherwise attempting to influence a public servant, Sasha. If your friend is no longer employed as a medical examiner, he can’t be taking any official government actions or making any decisions to influence, now can he?”

  Diana’s satisfaction radiated like a light as she beamed at Sasha.

  Sasha spoke slowly, as if Diana were a not-overly-bright child. “But, his termination was just part of the pattern of intimidation and improper influence. It’s part of the effort to keep him from acting as he’s obligated to do. See?”

  Diana shrugged. “I would have to have someone research the legislative intent behind the statute to see if that circumstance is covered.”

  “Will you?”

  Diana laughed humorously. “You can’t be serious. My assistant district attorneys are carrying full caseloads, prosecuting actual crimes. I’m not about to assign any of them this academic exercise.”

  “What about an intern? Don’t you care that someone in the government machinery is trying to cover up a connection among these deaths?”

  “I am certain that the Chief Medical Examiner stands behind the findings of his office. It’s not my place to second-guess his decisions. Nor is it yours,” she scolded Sasha in a cold tone.

  “What about the public’s right to know?”

  “Aren’t you cute when you’re earnest.”

  Appealing to Diana’s apparently underdeveloped sense of morality was clearly futile, so Sasha tried a different tack.

  “Respectfully, I think this goes higher than the Chief Medical Examiner. It might implicate the May—the highest levels of city government. You’re the District Attorney, Diana.”

  “I know my title, and I’d like to keep it, thank you very much. I’m not going to be drummed out of office to help some schmuck who couldn’t hack it at the M.E.’s office.”

  “This isn’t just about the Medical Examiner’s Office—the Mayor’s Office may be involved. You could break this wide open. Don’t you have any ambition?”

  “Honey, I’m ambitious, not suicidal. If you think I’m taking on that viper’s pit, you’ve taken leave of your senses,” Diana said in a frank voice.

  Sasha blinked. “So, that’s it?”

  Diana’s politician’s smile slipped back into place and she stood, arranging the fringe on her scarf.

  “I assure you, Attorney McCandless, that this office takes seriously any charges of improper influence. And when or if someone brings me a colorable charge, it will be treated as such. Thank you so much for stopping by, but I’m afraid I’m late for a meeting.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Bodhi timed his arrival to the parking lot behind the Medical Examiner’s Office almost exactly with Sonny’s mid-afternoon walk. He situated himself under the same tree where he’d provided Jamal his unsolicited career advice just days earlier. Before he could settle in to wait, the windowless metal fire door in the back of the building swung open, and he stepped forward.

  Behind him, he sensed Leo moving closer on the sidewalk outside the lot. He wanted to turn his head to confirm that Leo was far enough back to remain undetected but stopped himself. Leo was a professional, after all.

  Sonny’s head was bent, and he didn’t hear Bodhi approaching.

  “Sonny, sir,” he said, falling into step beside him.

  Sonny started when he saw Bodhi but covered it immediately.

  “Aw, son, I’m so sorry.” He patted Bodhi’s forearm in a clumsy attempt at sympathy.

  “So it’s true? You’re firing me?”

  “It’s done. As of this morning. You’ll have to sign for the papers when they’re delivered. You gotta know, I didn’t want to. I ... I had to.”

  “Why is that?”

  He held his former boss’s gaze until the older man looked away and mumbled an inaudible response.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  Sonny cleared his throat and quickened his stride. He swiveled his head around the deserted parking lot and then his eyes returned to Bodhi’s.

  “Let me buy you a drink. I owe you that much.”

  “Respectfully, I’d say you owe me more than that, sir. But, I’d like that.”

  He would like that. It would make his task that much easier. Nothing loosened Sonny’s tongue like a highball.

  He risked a glance at Leo over his shoulder as they jaywalked across the side street, dodging a van. Without having to ask, he knew their destination was the bar at The Carlton.

  They walked in silence. He could feel nervous energy radiating from his former boss. Twice Sonny threw furtiv
e looks behind them, as if he knew Leo was following them. Or he was worried that someone else might see them together.

  They ducked under the awning of the office building that housed The Carlton and hurried across the hushed lobby to the restaurant. It was equally quiet, the staff enjoying the mid-afternoon lull between lunch and happy hour.

  The dark-haired hostess looked up from flirting with the sommelier and feinted toward her post, but Sonny waved her off. “Don’t mind us, honey. We’re heading to the bar.”

  Bodhi trailed him across the room to a gleaming brass rail that set off the bar from the rest of the room. Sonny headed for a small table and two leather club chairs at the far end. The few drinkers who sat on the stools lining the bar would be unlikely to notice the two of them, let alone to overhear their conversation. Bodhi doubted the table selection had been an accident. He hoped it meant Sonny planned to talk frankly.

  As Sonny was giving his highball order to the waiter, Leo strolled into the room and made his way to the bar without so much as a glance toward their table.

  “Sir?” the smiling waiter repeated.

  “Sorry?” Bodhi said, jerking his attention away from Leo.

  “Your drink order?”

  “Oh. Any organic red that you have by the glass would be great.”

  Bodhi rarely drank wine, but the Carlton was known for its list. He assumed the waiter wouldn’t steer him wrong.

  “Very good sir.”

  As the waiter walked away, Bodhi leaned toward Sonny.

  “Why’d you fire me?”

  Sonny gave him a wry smile.

  “Just like that, huh? No chit chat first? Fair enough. I had to.”

  “Why?”

  Sonny’s clear eyes pierced him and he said, “I’ll be blunt. It was politics. Nothing to do with you or your job performance. For crying out loud, you’re my best pathologist without a doubt. But those missing files—”

  He trailed off as the waiter returned with their drinks. They watched in silence as he removed them from his small silver tray with a studied flourish and placed them on the table in front of them. A small bowl of cashews followed. Then he stood ramrod straight and waited for them to each take a sip and proclaim their drinks acceptable, before giving them a small nod and backing away.

  Sonny turned his attention to his highball, but Bodhi pressed on. “What about the files? I came to you and told you about them. I didn’t delete them, you know that.”

  “I do, son, but they’re a complicating factor. The press would love to claim that the myocarditis deaths are related and maybe some of them could’ve been prevented if we’d made the connection. That’s a load of crap, of course, but you know how they’d spin it if word got out that we didn’t even have the records ....” He winced at the thought.

  Bodhi swirled his wine and watched the sugary trail as it ran down the side of his glass.

  Finally he looked up at Sonny again, “You know there is a connection, right? Among the deaths? I’ve been doing some research and I think the women all reacted to an herbal supplement in—”

  Sonny slammed his glass down on the table. The white linen tablecloth muffled the sounds, but it was loud enough that Leo swiveled on his barstool to see what was happening.

  “Don’t!” Sonny warned him in a hoarse whisper.

  He struggled for control of himself, then breathed out slowly, and gave a forced, shaky laugh. “I mean, what’s done is done. We need to talk about your future, not your past. I can help you. I have connections. I can get you a faculty position, not tenured, of course, but a good job. You’re a natural teacher.”

  A rare surge of anger flared in Bodhi’s veins. He was being handled.

  “No thanks.”

  “Now, don’t be prideful. It’s no trouble.”

  Bodhi exhaled and changed tack. “You know the Courtlands sued me personally?”

  Sonny’s eyes dimmed. “I do. You can’t take that to heart. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “I know.” He sipped his wine. “But they allege I destroyed documents.”

  Sonny nodded, unsurprised. “I heard.”

  “Don’t you wonder where they heard that? Aren’t you worried it’ll get out? The complaint’s not filed under seal or whatever.”

  “Look, the City Attorney has already contacted the Courtland family. In exchange for their dropping the lawsuit against you and agreeing to keep all information confidential, the city will pay them a sum of money.”

  Bodhi blinked. “You’re buying them off?”

  “Now, come on, it’s not like that. You were actin’ in your official capacity when you did that autopsy. The City is obligated to defend you. The lawyers shoulda probably talked to you first, but no harm, no foul. You ought to be happy.”

  “Sonny, I’m feeling many emotions right now, but happiness isn’t one of them.”

  Sonny drained his glass. Bodhi looked down and was surprised to see that his own was already empty.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  “Get up.”

  Sasha bit down hard on her lower lip and tasted the tang of her blood.

  She pushed herself off the sticky mat and stood to face her instructor again. She planted her feet in a wide stance and raised her hands.

  Daniel looked at her and shook his head, a frown pulling at his mouth.

  “You’re going to get wrinkles, scowling like that.”

  “Stop joking around. What’s wrong with you?”

  His disappointment stung.

  What was wrong with her? She knew she had to stay sharp. Even without Connelly and Daniel’s constant nagging, she intellectually understood she needed to be able to protect herself. But she seemed to be unable to maintain focus during their sparring sessions.

  “I don’t know,” she admitted.

  He ran his hands through his wavy hair.

  “Well, until you figure it out, we’re just wasting our time.”

  “So, what? You won’t train with me?”

  She couldn’t believe he would kick her out of the studio. She’d been Daniel’s favorite pupil for close to a decade.

  “I don’t know what to do with you. Your mind’s wandering. Are you thinking about your wedding?”

  “For crying out loud, Daniel, really? You think I’m daydreaming about the big day?” her embarrassment melted, replaced by indignation. He knew her better than that.

  “What is it then?”

  “I said, I don’t know,” she snapped at him.

  He exhaled slowly.

  “So, let’s figure it out.” His voice was gentler, conciliatory.

  He lowered himself to the mat and arranged himself into the crossed-legged lotus pose. He rested the outsides of his wrists on his knees, his palms up and his fingertips touching.

  “Really? We’re going to meditate?”

  “Get your butt on the mat, Sasha.”

  She huffed and sank down into the mat across from him, mirroring his pose.

  He searched her face for a moment. “Close your eyes and clear your mind.”

  She complied.

  She focused on her breath rising in and out, from her abdomen. Java popped into her mind—the kitten seemed to be a natural yogini. He was always belly breathing. She chased the thought from her mind. Don’t think.

  The sun streamed through the window behind her, heating the back of her head. Her ponytail tickled her neck.

  She heard Daniel’s even breathing. The ticking of the wall clock. The hum of the floor fan oscillating in the corner.

  She smelled old sweat and the faint hint of lemon-scented floor cleaner.

  Her mind was empty.

  Then Bodhi’s tranquil face floated through her thoughts. She pushed it away.

  A moment later, she wished she hadn’t. It was replaced by a very different face. One that had been destroyed by bullets, ripped apart and bloodied, unrecognizable. But she knew who it was. Deputy Gavin Russell, slaughtered by a crazed survivalist because she hadn’t been quic
k enough to find him.

  Her steady breathing faltered, and she wiped her mind.

  Bodhi flitted back into view. Then Judge Paulson, dead on the floor of his chambers in the historic courthouse in Clear Brook County. Clarissa Costopolous. The side of her head bashed in with a hammer, blood and gray matter spraying her car window. Tim Warner, wrapped in a blood-stained comforter, staring up at her with sightless eyes from the inside of a Dumpster. Connelly, gray eyes soft and worried. Noah Peterson, her old boss and mentor, wrapped around the steering column of his car. Ellen Mortenson, her throat slashed in a wicked approximation of a grin, blood pooling. Naya, her head thrown back, mouth open, roaring in laughter. Her mother, cradling Julian against her chest. Larry, Daniel’s father, crumpled on the floor of her office, his broken glasses out of reach.

  She gasped, and her eyes flew open.

  Daniel was watching her.

  “What?”

  She could feel her body trembling, as she drew a shaky breath and understanding flooded her.

  “I’m afraid.”

  His cool eyes painted her with a disbelieving look.

  “You’re afraid?”

  She nodded mutely.

  He steepled his fingers and contemplated her like he’d never seen her before.

  She tried not to squirm under his scrutiny while he weighed her admission.

  After what seemed like hours, he said, “You’re afraid of getting hurt?”

  “No. I’m afraid I’m not going to be able to protect Bodhi. Or Naya. Connelly. Whoever. I’m afraid I’m going to fail.”

  Saying the words and having the truth hit her was like shedding a too-heavy backpack. She was unburdened. Lighter. Hopeful. Naming the fear meant she could overcome it. Right?

  “Bodhi? This is the pacifist Buddhist who Leo wants to help?”

  “Yes.”

  “And he’s in danger?”

  “Yes.”

  Daniel’s eyes bore into her. “You know, Sasha, you’re a lawyer.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Not a superhero.”

  “Pardon?”

  “You don’t have to save everyone. You don’t have to save anyone. Krav Maga is a tool you can use when a situation spirals out of your control through no fault of your own. It’s a last resort. Not a lifestyle.”