by Alexi Venice
“Yet,” Amanda said.
“You can’t be serious.”
“I am. There’s no doubt in my mind this relationship is coming out in this murder trial. As for Carlos, who knows whether he’ll release the info sooner just to spite Kara—and you.”
“Bastard,” Ryan muttered. “He’d hurt Lindsay in the process.”
“What can you tell us about him?” Tommy asked.
“He’s been a good father to the kids, but he’s totally disrespected Kara.”
“In what way?” Tommy asked.
“No sex. Mental abuse. Verbal abuse. No respect for their marriage or her happiness. Even before he had his prostate removed, he manipulated her, like withholding sex until she agreed with him on business decisions.”
“Seriously?” Tommy asked.
“Yeah. Psycho bastard. I can’t blame her for stepping out. When Carlos had his prostate removed, he was incapable of getting a hard-on, so he never touched her again, totally inconsiderate of her needs.”
“So, she sought it elsewhere,” Tommy observed.
“Yes. She went from man to man to avoid attachments and obligations. Unfortunately, that’s backfiring on her now. I knew it would. I don’t think she ever anticipated running for President, though. If she had, she would’ve remarried long ago.”
“Do you think Carlos murdered Jared Carlisle?” Tommy asked.
“Hell yes. Kara told me that Carlos has been lying in wait to sabotage her. Hurt her like she hurt him. I think he somehow got wind of Carlisle’s attempt to blackmail her and used it as an opportunity to frame her,” Ryan said.
Amanda squinted at Ryan, trying desperately to sort through the pile of puzzle pieces. “God, that seems so complex to me. Rather than just divorce her—take half her wealth and sully her reputation in the process—he’s trying to frame her for murder? Isn’t that a little extreme for a man who’s been committed to their family unit, even putting up with her parade of sexual partners?”
“But, I think that’s part of his motive,” Ryan said. “I don’t think he’s ever been okay with her having other sexual partners, even when he couldn’t have sex with her.”
“So, you’re saying that when Carlos learned Lindsay wasn’t his, that was the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back?” Amanda asked.
“Yes,” Ryan said.
“Did Carlos ever threaten to harm Kara?” Tommy asked.
“On multiple occasions,” Ryan said. “She called me and asked me what to do. She even wanted to buy a gun to protect herself.”
“What did you advise?” Tommy asked.
“I told her not to. She doesn’t know the first thing about handling a weapon. I told her to leave him, but she never listened to me, and now she’s paying the price.”
“Did she want to marry you?” Amanda asked.
Ryan hung his head. “Yes. I think part of her motive for the serial affairs was to spite me. She didn’t give a rip what Carlos thought, but she told me she loved me—on several occasions. She wanted me to leave Rebecca, but we already had two kids when I got Kara pregnant, and I just couldn’t do that to Rebecca.”
Tommy and Amanda were quiet as they processed Ryan’s dilemma.
“Kara even offered to pay alimony and child support to Rebecca if I’d get a divorce and marry her,” Ryan said.
“But you love Rebecca?” Amanda asked gently.
“Yes. I never loved Kara. It was nothing more than a fling. Unfortunately, she got pregnant.”
Everyone took a few minutes to digest the enormity of the situation Ryan had created for himself.
After a time, Tommy said, “So, she has an affair—one of many—with Jared Carlisle. Unlike her previous lovers, he decides to allege sexual assault. He didn’t sue her or post the video of her online, which would’ve done major damage to her reputation. Instead, he filed charges with the police. That doesn’t seem logical to me. What do you make of that?” Tommy asked.
“That someone told him to because that someone knew about me, and that Carlisle’s allegation would reach me,” Ryan said.
“Besides Carlos and Kara, who else knew?” Amanda asked.
“I didn’t tell anyone. Kara told me she didn’t either, but who knows? She can be mercurial and unpredictable, if not downright Machiavellian. Then, there’s Carlos. Who knows who he told?”
“So, we could assume that Carlos set the wheels in motion. He paid Carlisle to video Kara in her dominatrix outfit and allege sexual assault to bait her into murdering him?”
“There are too many moving parts for that plan to work,” Amanda said.
“I agree, but it’s plausible. Carlos could lay the motive on her doorstep, then frame her for it,” Tommy said.
“I don’t know. I’m going to have to think about that,” Amanda said, still not convinced.
Ryan looked from Tommy to Amanda, no doubt weighing the evidence. “I’m going to let you do the thinking and investigating. I’m too close to the situation to have any perspective.”
“Good plan,” Tommy said. “Are you going to tell Rebecca?”
“I think I have to,” he said.
“I agree,” Amanda said, relieved. “As I said, you need to get out in front of this.”
“I can’t apprise you of the investigation any longer,” Tommy said. “I’m sorry, but talking to you might taint anything we do.”
“I know. I originally assigned Carlisle’s complaint to you because I thought it was just a sexual assault allegation that would fizzle and go away. That obviously isn’t the case.”
“I’m glad you see it our way,” Tommy said.
“Thank you.” Ryan turned to Amanda. “To both of you.”
“I’m sorry,” Amanda said.
“Me, too,” Ryan said.
Tommy and Amanda took their leave. Still digesting what they had just heard, they quickly left Ryan’s floor.
When they hit the stairwell, Tommy asked, “Wanna get a coffee at Terantino’s?”
“Yes,” Amanda said.
They exited the dank Hall into the intense California sun and crossed Bryant Street.
In Terantino’s, Dom greeted them. “Tommy! Amanda! How are ya?”
“Fine,” Tommy said.
“You don’t look so fine to me, hiding behind that beard,” Dom said. “Amanda, I haven’t seen you in forever. Where are you getting your coffee these days?”
“Believe it or not, I’m making my own,” she lied. She’d never admit to stepping out on Dom for her Sea Cliff barista.
“I don’t believe you. Come here, you look like you need a hug.” Dom walked around his display case of sweets and held his arms wide for Amanda.
Somewhat reluctantly, she took a few steps and fell into his bear hug. He’d given her one a few years ago when she was battling the Italian mob, and she remembered how comforting it was. She wasn’t disappointed. He was an incredible hugger—warm, soft, yet firm, and radiating genuine support. She held it for longer than she would’ve expected. “Thank you, Dom. You always seem to know what I need.”
“Part of the job, my sweet. Now, what can I get you?” He returned to his spot and peered at them over the top of the display.
“Cappuccino for me,” Tommy said.
Dom held up his hand, signaling to Tommy that it wasn’t his turn. “Ladies first.”
Amanda smiled. “Cappuccino for both of us. I’m buying.”
“Your money’s no good here.” Dom turned his back on them to make the brew.
Amanda absent-mindedly stared at the treats in the display while she and Tommy waited. German chocolate cake. Unappealing. Strawberry cheesecake. Yuck. Cookies. Boring. Nothing looked appetizing.
A few minutes later, their cups in hand, Tommy asked Dom, “Is anyone out back?”
“Nah. It’s empty this time of day.”
“Good. I need a smoke, and we have to discuss something. Can you—”
“Put up the privacy sign?” Dom asked. “Sure.”
Tommy and Amanda went out the glass door to the small patio. Dom hung the “Patio Closed” sign on the door behind them, so they could be alone.
They found a small table in the sun—the same table Tommy had shared with Roxy when he was getting to know her.
“Cigarette?” he offered.
“I’d love one, but Jen is still on my case. I have to quit,” Amanda said. Her desires betrayed her by reminding her how soothing a cigarette was with a cup of Joe. She summoned all her willpower to resist.
“Good luck. With what we just learned from Ryan, smoking is the only thing I have left.”
“No shit.” She fiercely pressed her eyes shut and tilted her face up to the sun.
“He’s my cousin, and I love him, but what a dumbfuck.”
“Seriously. How did he and Kara even hook up? It’s not like they travel in the same circles for Christ’s sake,” Amanda said, her eyes still closed.
“Well, he said they dated briefly in high school, so they knew each other. Maybe they ran into each other at a charity or political event, and the flame reignited,” Tommy said, inhaling. “God, Rebecca will be crushed. Absolutely devastated.”
“Do you think she’ll leave him?” Amanda asked.
“Hard to tell. I’ve seen the love they have for each other, but a deception like that is sure to undermine the entire foundation of their marriage.”
Amanda opened her eyes and drank heartily of her cappuccino. She breathed in the secondhand smoke and stared jealously at Tommy.
“Wanna a drag?”
“In the worst fucking way, but I can’t.”
Every nerve ending in her fingertips yearned to touch the cigarette. Bring it to her lips. Hold it there while she took a drag and filled her lungs with the smoke that would deliver a soothing buzz. The urge to satisfy was so strong that it pushed out anything else in her mind, pulling her closer, closer and closer. She forced herself to refocus on her own health. Jen’s words echoed through Amanda’s mind. “I won’t take care of you if you’re hooked up to an oxygen tank.” And, Jen was right. Amanda had to stay healthy for Kristin. And, if Amanda wanted her own child someday….
She stared at Tommy, watching him savor the ritual of smoking and drinking coffee. He had a daughter to live and provide for too, yet—
“What?” he asked.
“I’m sorry. I’m just lost in thought while I watch you smoke.”
“That bad, huh?”
“On a pain scale from one to ten? The deprivation is a ten,” she said.
He laughed. “I’m sorry, but not really. You’re an adult. Jen doesn’t control you.”
“Fuck off,” she said. She knew damn well Tommy would do anything Jen asked him to if their roles were reversed. Amanda took another drink. “I have a question for you that’s unrelated to this investigation. Something that’s been on my mind for quite some time.”
“Fire away,” he said, taking another long drag.
“It’s personal.”
“Isn’t everything with you and Jen?” He held the smoke in his lungs for a second before exhaling.
“Valid point. Here it is: Would you please get me pregnant?”
He blew out the smoke and coughed up a lung. When he was done wheezing, he took a drink of cappuccino and sat up straight. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”
“Dead.”
“Didn’t we already have this conversation? And, didn’t I say, ‘no’?”
“We did, and you did. But, I figured with some time to think it over—”
“Were you not listening to the conversation we just had with Ryan? Extra-marital pregnancies don’t work out so well.”
“First, neither of us is married, but that’s a technicality. We’d be doing this purposefully. Intentionally bringing a child into the world to raise together, just like you and Jen are raising Kristin.”
He scratched his beard. Guttural male sounds emanated from his throat. “I don’t know if I can handle the responsibility.”
“Of course you can. You and Cy are going to move to our neighborhood for Kristin, so what’s another child when you’re already there?”
“You’re relentless.”
“So I’ve been told. Please?”
“I’ll think about it,” he said. “But I’m not carrying my semen in a vial to the clinic, and I’m not going to the clinic to jack off.”
“But—”
He raised his eyebrows at her.
“No way.” She held up her index finger, wagging it side-to-side to ward him off.
“I’m an old-fashioned guy. If we’re gonna make a baby together and co-parent, I insist on making the baby my way.”
“Oh, for God’s sake!”
“Italian men are proud that way.” He ground out his cigarette in a tin can filled with sand then watched her over the rim of his cup as he drank.
“I’ve never been with a man,” she said, the pride in her voice evident.
“If you want me to impregnate you, then that’s going to change. You’re very lucky that an Italian man will be your first. Me, in particular.”
“And last,” she snarled.
He smiled victoriously. “Be careful. You might enjoy yourself.”
“I doubt that.”
“You have to go into this with an open mind, or I’m not going to be able to perform. I mean, geez, put yourself in my shoes.”
“Fine. What do you want me to do?”
“Play with a smile on your face and a song in your heart.”
She threw a crumpled napkin at him.
“Does Jen know about this?” he asked.
“I’ll talk to her.”
“Just to be clear, my pecker might say, ‘yes’ to you, but you know my heart belongs to Jen, right?”
“Mine too.”
“At least we have that in common. Make sure she understands that, okay?”
“We have a lot more than that in common.” She drained her cup and slapped the table, signaling it was time to leave. Even though she was elated that he had agreed to reconsider her proposal, she wasn’t sure she could agree to his terms. The thought of a penis inside her and a sweaty man on top of her made her want to run for the exit.
Chapter 31
That evening
After work, Frank drove Amanda to Bikram Yoga in Sea Cliff, her neighborhood studio, just in time to change in the small bathroom and stash her bag in a cubby. She grabbed a couple of foam blocks from the equipment stand and rushed into the classroom, where almost every spot was already taken. She spied a space next to the wall—not ideal because her hand might hit it—and unfurled her mat. I made it to my yoga mat.
“Welcome, Amanda,” the instructor said in her gentle, soothing, guru-voice.
“Thank you.” Amanda lay on her mat and took calming breaths. Just being in the sacred space of her studio, with others who sought the same peaceful experience, helped slow her racing mind from the shock of what she and Tommy had learned that day.
The instructor began class with some slow stretching exercises, reinforcing the creation of space in the lungs while elongating the spine. “Our intention today is to work on our Vinyasa with a peaceful mind. Let’s use a long spine and bright collarbones.”
As Amanda focused on her body, and the flow of movement from one pose to the next, she could feel Ryan’s story lifting from her shoulders. This was her time to focus on her own health, not to burden herself with Ryan’s past indiscretions and recent decisions. Even though she empathized, she couldn’t sacrifice the principles of justice to save him or his reputation.
Midway through class, as she arched and stretched through the Freedom pose, focusing on a dot on the green wall, she tried to release her angst through her fingertips by reaching for the sky. She knew she couldn’t stop her mind from turning over the evidence that lay before her, and the yet-undiscovered evidence that would surely reveal who killed Carlisle, but she had to focus on her pose. Leg up, knee back, arching, arching and stretching…finding space in he
r hips.
Later, as she went into downward dog, raising her hips to the ceiling and resting her heels back on the mat as far as they could go, her third eye of wisdom pictured Carlos and Kara raising Lindsay all these years as if she were Carlos’ daughter. Likewise, Ryan’s wife, Rebecca, similarly thought their three children were Ryan’s only. His youthful indiscretion lead to a double family and changed lives forever.
Rebecca and her children would be shocked and devastated, but no more so than Lindsay. Amanda hoped the revelation wouldn’t poison young Lindsay’s fondness and respect for her mother. The carefree teenager they had met was about to enter the cruel, harsh realities of an adult world.
Amanda considered Ryan’s explanation for the choices he had made. He had rebuffed Kara for Rebecca, so Kara had stayed in a horrible marriage and made her family unit functional. What about Carlos? What was he thinking and doing all these years? Besides buying and restoring old cars?
Amanda followed the instructor into a Chaturanga—a yoga push-up—keeping her elbows tight along her rib cage, and being mindful to keep her body horizontal, not leading with her shoulders as she lowered herself to the mat.
The instructor said, “Don’t lead with your pelvis, ladies. Bad things happen when you lead with your pelvis. Keep your spine long.”
Amanda flowed into the Cobra pose—one of her favorites—and caught a glimpse of herself in the full-length mirror. Fuck! I look stressed!
Then she saw Eddy Valentine’s face on China Beach—right before she shot him in the chest. “Who hired you?” she had demanded. “Nick Nutini,” he had told her. Not knowing where the instinctive rage had come from, and without giving it a second thought, she had shot him dead. She told herself she was avenging George Banks, her previous driver, who Eddy had killed only seconds earlier.
Now she wondered. Was it for me? Am I really a heartless sociopath? Any better than the criminals I prosecute? Any better than the person who killed Jared Carlisle? Why am I thinking about this now? Eddy Valentine’s dead eyes had fixed into space after she had killed him. She had left him on the sand to search for Jen in the ocean….
She knew this class wasn’t going to wash away the grime of killing someone, but she refocused herself, pushing the memory back to the recesses of her brain. Her yoga had to serve as a tool to center her and temper her emotions, or she’d have no other choice than to return to mind-relieving drugs. She hoped to hell she could forgive herself someday. With her hands in yoga prayer, she vowed to maintain her moral compass, as she touched her thumbs to her third eye for wisdom, to her lips for truth, and to her heart for compassion. Then she stopped touching herself.