by Anna Burke
“I’ll bet that’s Detective Hernandez now.” Jessica was careful getting down from the bar stool without triggering another bolt of pain. She brushed Bernadette’s cheek with a kiss. Coffee in hand, she went into her room, shut the door, and answered the phone on the fourth ring.
“Hello,” she said easing into the comfy chair in the seating area of her bedroom. It was Detective Hernandez, alright. Not that he bothered with the niceties like saying hello.
“Bedrossian, Ms. Huntington-Harper, Alan Bedrossian. You and your private eye picked a great character to try out your amateur detective routine on. This guy has been linked to the Armenian Power, an organized crime group in the LA area. The APs been targeted by law enforcement for years now. They busted up a big Medicaid fraud ring in 2010. They rounded up nearly 100 members in LA alone last year for identity theft and some old school things like extortion.” He paused long enough to take a breath before continuing to rant.
“If that’s not enough, your Mr. Bedrossian is also suspected of ties to the Russians and their involvement in all sorts of underhanded schemes. Not just extortion, but prostitution, credit card fraud, and money laundering. Even though Armenians and Hispanics don’t always get along, Bedrossian seems to have something going on with the Mexican drug cartels. He moves in and out of the country, leaving when things get hot and returning when things cool down again. It’s not clear how he’s connected to all these other guys, or what his role is, but he’s never too far away when a lot of very bad things happen.” When he stopped to take another breath, Jessica tried to explain.
“He’s not ‘my’ Mr. Bedrossian. He belongs to Margarit Tilik,” telling him about the notation Roger had made on his calendar. Jessica filled him in on discovering that MT was Margarit Tilik. By chance she ran into Margarit at the Adobe Grill, and on impulse decided to speak to her. The fact that Alan Bedrossian showed up and Margarit introduced him to her, was another act of kismet. That was as much as he could take without interrupting her.
“Kismet! Impulse! Are you kidding me? Kismet and impulse are not the best tools for doing detective work, Ms. Huntington-Harper. You should have told me about the meeting between Roger and this MT person at the Adobe Grill. I would have sent one of our teams out there to investigate. Chance meetings with bad guys like Alan Bedrossian are more likely to cause a crime than to solve one. Leave the detective work to real detectives, okay?”
“I hear and I obey,” she said calmly, trying to keep any hint of sarcasm out of her voice. She also hoped her feeble attempt at bravado had covered for the deepening dread brought on by the repeated warnings.
“You’d better, or you’re going to find yourself in trouble for interfering with a criminal investigation, or obstructing justice, or something like that.” That got her dander up.
“Now wait a minute! Whatever you may think of my detective skills, I am a lawyer. You’d better think twice before threatening me with the law.”
“That was your minute, Ms. Huntington-Harper.” With that he hung up. Jessica stood up and paced. No, she stomped in a little circle around the sitting area, looking for something to throw. Instead she sat down and finished her coffee. What good would it do to throw things with nobody in the room to aim for? A lot of what he said was right. That ticked her off the most. On the other hand, chance was always a big factor in finding the solution to any problem. Was it her fault she had run into that pantyhose-wearing buffoon? Or that Margarit Tilik’s fiancé happened to be “connected” to more unsavory things even than her ex-husband and his vulture capitalist cronies?
Okay, so maybe she should cool it on the impulsive side of things. She would dig in and get the more mundane, but still distasteful, things done. Like finding Laura, going through Roger’s papers and putting their finances in order. With that, Jessica gritted her teeth, got dressed, and went to look for Laura.
Bernadette was still sitting at the bar area overlooking the great expanse of granite in the kitchen. Laura sat next to her in the seat Jessica had previously occupied.
“We’re having cereal and fruit. You want to join us?”
“Sure, Bernadette,” Jessica said, grabbing an empty bowl and filling it with Cheerios, skim milk and fresh berries. It was a breakfast she had eaten dozens of times before in this same setting. Her only concession to age and wisdom was to substitute a packet of artificial sweetener for the sugar she would have used when she was twelve.
Laura looked about twelve sitting at the bar. She was still in her pajamas. Her hair pulled up in a lopsided pony tail . Tilting the bowl, she coaxed the last berries onto her spoon.
“When you’re done we’ll go over Roger’s accounts, okay Laura?”
“Actually, I’m already done. You eat and let me clean myself up. I’m going to shower, put on one of the outfits you bought me, like the one you’re wearing. Then we’ll get this done. Fifteen minutes, okay? Where do you want to work?”
“I’ll set up everything out here in the dining area, or we can use my dad’s old office if you want more privacy.”
“Privacy, what’s that? I’m sure the police are digging into every aspect of my life with Roger. I just hope I can keep up with them. They probably already know more about my dead husband than I do. Borrowing money from Sara and Dave, getting cash out of his car, having guests at the house and not telling me ahead of time. I was so out of the loop! Last night when I tried to go to sleep, do you know what I was wondering? I was trying to remember if the bathrooms were clean enough for guests. How stupid is that? He was entertaining a woman while I was out and I’m worried about what she thought about my housekeeping. At least until she slaughtered him, if she’s the one who killed him. If not, then how many more people did he have traipsing through there? Let’s not mention what I was doing that night.”
Laura looked even more like a twelve-year-old in that moment, an angry, wretched one. She was fighting off tears, her hands on her hips defiantly facing down the litany of woes bedeviling her. Jessica felt herself tearing up. Still revved up emotionally after her encounter with Detective Hernandez, she was on edge too. Jessica looked over at Bernadette, and, damn, their were tears in her eyes, too.
“Privacy is really the least of my worries,” she said a little more softly, “especially with you two. I’m all out of things to hide. Let’s get it all out in the open, Jessica. The morning room’s just fine.” With that, she took off for her bedroom. The little knot of a pony tail, atop of her head, bobbed as she fled down the hall.
“I’m going to make tea. We’ll all feel better if we have some tea. Herbal tea, though, no more caffeine for now,” Bernadette said, a dervish of color and motion, as she went to work putting away the breakfast items and setting up for tea. She could see Bernadette settling down as she worked. Jessica had learned from watching her for so many years what consolation could be found in small acts of duty, domestic or professional.
“Duty calls,” Jessica said to no one in particular as she went to gather the materials she and Laura needed.
CHAPTER 23
Two hours into the process, Jessica and Laura were both ready to scream. It was the tedium of the whole thing that got to Jessica, but for Laura it was more dreadful than boring. The more they dug, the deeper the hole they found. They figured Laura had enough room on her equity line to get by for a month, maybe two, and then something would have to give.
She could sell Roger’s car but would likely end up owing the bank money. It was worth less than the outstanding balance on the loan. Or she could let the bank repossess the car, but her own credit would take a hit given that both their names were on the loan. No doubt her credit had already been trashed by all the missing and late payments that had occurred over the past several months as Roger tried to keep them afloat. Jessica had seen so many families faced with similarly dismal prospects after the real estate bubble burst. It was like watching the waters rise in New Orleans after Katrina. The Great Recession had been a disaster that unfolded in slow, tortuous motion
.
Laura had some options. She had already caught up on the mortgage, the day before, using a big chunk of what was left on that equity line. Jessica suggested a round of calls to her other creditors, next. She could ask for more time, defer or make smaller payments, until Roger’s life insurance was paid out. Even with a more extensive investigation into Roger’s death, Laura was likely to have a check within 90 days. Jessica was already thinking about who she could lean on to make that happen. The police work to find Roger’s killer would take longer, but the insurance company should pay up if Laura was cleared of any involvement in Roger’s death.
“Until that happens you could take a loan from me, Laura. It’ll stop all the late fees, penalties and extra interest creditors will pile on. You can put Roger’s car up for sale at a price that’ll allow you to pay off the balance due. And, even if things drag on longer with the life insurance company, you’ll have time to get back on your feet.”
Laura’s face was wracked with dread. She was silent for a couple minutes before looking at Jessica.
“Will you let me pay you back with interest?”
“I’d rather you didn’t but if you insist that’s what we’ll do,” Jessica replied.
“Okay, that makes the most sense, I guess. Thanks.” Jessica felt the first real wave of relief she had felt all day. Maybe things would work out after all for her friend.
“You ready to talk about his business, now?” Laura responded with a silent nod. Business was bad but how bad was still a little hard to tell. Roger was in the hole by about 40 to 50 thousand dollars. They would visit his storage facility on Thursday, once the funeral was behind them, and would inventory the contents. Neither of them had a clue about how to sell what they found there.
“Even though you weren’t a partner in Roger’s business he made it clear that, in the event of his death, his ownership interest passes to you. So it’s up to you to do what you want with the business. Another option is to place the business into bankruptcy and let the bankruptcy court handle liquidation of assets and payment of liabilities, rather than trying to do all that yourself.”
Their search of Roger’s files had revealed three invoices yet to be paid: two from local banks and one from a waste disposal company. Jessica would get Tommy to try to collect on the outstanding invoices. She also proposed having Tommy send letters to Roger’s business creditors. A letter and a copy of the death certificate ought to stem the tide of harassing collection attempts until they could find someone to handle the bankruptcy, if that’s what Laura decided to do. Laura was not in any condition to make the kind of decisions life was forcing upon her. What they could do, with Tommy’s help, was buy some time and that’s what they decided to do.
Jessica sent Tommy an email, filling him in on what she and Laura wanted him to do, adding more work hours to the tab he was running with Jerry. If he came by the house around 5 or 6, she would give him the details, and hand over the materials he needed to get those letters out. Tommy responded, almost instantly, saying how happy he was to help.
“He really is on his best behavior,” Jessica thought, as she messaged him to bring Jerry, stay for dinner and a swim. When he said he was motivated, he meant it.
While the session had brought closure on some matters, there were still a lot of loose ends. They found an entry for the five thousand dollar check from Sara and Dave. That had actually been deposited in Roger’s business account in March. Most of that money had eventually made its way into their personal account as money Roger paid to himself as owner of Stoneworks, LLC. That’s why it had all looked like business as usual to Laura when they dealt with household finances in April, the last time they had seriously reviewed their finances as a couple. They found nothing about the source of cash deposits made to Roger’s business account. There were four of them, beginning in April. Each for a different amount, and deposited about two weeks apart.
“Laura, one more thing and then we’re done for now. Did Roger ever say anything to you about working as a driver for someone by the name of Margarit Tilik? That’s the MT he met at the Adobe Grill on Thursday.”
“He said nothing about being a driver and nothing about a Margarit Tilik. Is that the woman he was seeing Friday night or was there another mysterious woman in his life that I knew nothing about?”
“She didn’t say so but I’m pretty sure she was there. You know the question I asked you last night about clove cigarettes?”
“Yes,” Laura replied with a quizzical look on her face.
“Margarit Tilik took a pack out of her purse yesterday and I got a whiff. That reminded me of the odor you described when you first walked into the house Saturday morning. I asked Tommy to pick up a pack so we can check it out. Anyway, Margarit claims that Roger was her driver for several days last week and had been her driver since April. That coincides with the start of those cash payments. Her fiancé, a man named Alan Bedrossian, is the one who actually hired and paid Roger. Does that name ring a bell either?”
“It’s all news to me, the job, the woman, her fiancé and the BMW sports car parked outside my house. I’ll bet she’s gorgeous. If she came to the house in that sports car why does she need a driver?”
“Good question, Laura. She also works as a courier and translator for Alan Bedrossian. It sounds like he’s the suspicious type and uses the drivers as spies to keep tabs on his sweetheart. Quite the love story, huh?”
“Couriers, translators and spies! Who is Alan Bedrossian? Is he some kind of reclusive billionaire business man, or a government agent, or something?”
“Well, not exactly. Now that you mention it they do kind of remind me of Boris and Natasha, the spies in those old Rocky and Bullwinkle cartoon shows. He’s a business man, but not altogether legit. I’m not sure yet how he and Roger hooked up, but Bedrossian’s pretty well-connected to a lot of nasty things. I think he goes to the head of the list as the most unsavory character in the middle of all this with his beloved, Margarit, a close second.”
“And Roger’s not too far behind! I just didn’t know the man. Did he change or was I deluded all those years we were married?” she asked plaintively.
“I’ve gone through the same thing again and again. Was Jim always a man capable of cheating on me or did he morph into a dirt bag one day? Was I a dupe or did I have some role in causing him to become that kind of a man? I don’t know if we’ll ever figure out what makes a man do stupid and foolish things, even to someone he promises to love. If we do we can probably make a whole new career for ourselves on the talk show circuit.”
“That’ll be the day! You and me on Dr. Phil or the Oprah network telling other women how to know when their man is doing them wrong. Maybe the driver thing was just a cover to cheat on me with this Margarit person. Sounds like that was risky if he had any idea who this guy Alan Bedrossian really was, but he was taking all sorts of risks. It wouldn’t surprise me in the least if it turns out he and this Margarit woman were screwing around.” She was getting mad, stamping her feet as she sat in the chair in the morning room.
“What was he thinking, Jessica? How could he do this to me, to himself, to us? How could he get into so much trouble without telling me? How could he get himself killed?” Laura crossed her arms and went into a pout, trying to stave off angry tears.
“I think we’re done here, Laura. You’ve worked hard enough today to try to put the pieces of the puzzles in Roger’s life together. The good news is that Roger limited the damage to your personal finances by the trouble with his business. There’s nothing to suggest he was doing anything illegal. Being paid to drive Margarit around was a far cry from running his own business, sad and maybe even desperate, but still above board. I don’t know why he concealed so much from you. Maybe some sort of macho pride. It could be fear or shame, if he crossed the line with Margarit, but we don’t know that yet either. None of this was your fault. Bad things happen to good people, Laura.” She did not look convinced. Jessica could almost see the wheels turning.
What else could she have done to make her marriage work and, maybe, save her husband’s life? Jessica let out a huge sigh.
“Look, Laura, why don’t you go put on that other swimsuit you haven’t worn yet and float around in the pool for a while? I have my lunch meeting with Paul Worthington. You know the defense attorney Jerry works for? I’m going to go over everything with Paul to make sure we haven’t missed anything important. I feel certain you won’t need a criminal defense attorney at this point. You’re the least unsavory puzzle piece of all, Laura!”
“Well if you and the police ever catch up with Eric-the-waiter he’ll have a story to tell that will make me seem plenty unsavory. I may be further down on the list, but I’m still on it. I don’t know who I am these days either.” She looked up at Jessica, the little lines on her forehead deeply creased. The sides of her mouth turned down and her lips trembled.
“Laura, when we go on the road, doing the talk show thing, we’ll have to say something about the fact that marriages often get into trouble when disaster strikes. Lots of families have lost more than jobs and houses in the last few years. When marriages do get into trouble, for whatever reason, a lot of damage can be done before anybody realizes it. My marriage was in trouble long before I filed for divorce. Finding Jim in bed with that blond was really his way of making it all so clear to both of us we couldn’t pretend anymore.” Jessica fiddled with the pen she held in her hand.
“So why don’t I just go sign those damn divorce papers right this minute, wherever they are?” she wondered to herself.
“Thanks Jessica. I don’t know how I could have gotten this far without you.”
“I feel the same way about you Laura. We’re both lucky to have someone in our lives to help us face the worst.” Laura got up and came around the table to give Jessica a hug.
“You have a nice lunch and tell me all about this guy when you get back.”