Love, Lies & The D.A.

by Rohman, Rebecca

  Display these wherever you go

  so that you will remember

  that we are always with you.

  No matter what.

  I love you.

  Bobby

  I feel the sting in my eyes once more, but I don’t want to cry. I place one of the frames on the fireplace mantle, one on the kitchen counter, and the other in my room. After, I take a very long shower. I slip into my comfy pajamas. I should probably read a book. I get myself a slice of leftover pizza, a glass of milk, and I curl up in bed. Before I even know it, I’m out.

  When I wake, I am shocked to see it’s four in the morning. I’m hungry. I venture into the kitchen and heat up my brunch from the day before. It’s cold outside and still pitch-dark. The sun hasn’t even nearly begun to rise. As I sit on the oversized fireplace hearth to eat, my mind drifts back to yesterday afternoon.

  What was that that happened in the car? I don’t know what’s going on with me, but I need to find a focus.

  What about him? Is he doing this to get close to me for information? What about his ex? Did he get over her within a week? I’m beginning to have my suspicions about that too. Was there ever a real proposal? Or was that some sort of stupid tactic for him to get the seat he wanted? It doesn’t matter; either way, I refuse to let him use whatever charms he might have to get information out of me.

  Later that day, I head into town to run some errands. My dress is toast, as I thought. It’s late afternoon when the doorbell rings. I check to see who it is. It’s some sort of delivery. I haven’t ordered anything, so I have to assume it’s from Bobby or Charles. I sign for receiving two packages. One is from my mom, but I can’t identify the sender of the other.

  I open the box, and the Ralph Lauren logo on the box gives me a clue. My brother makes me smile. I’ve been sent a replacement for my ruined dress. The other is a box of my mom’s cookies, my favorite. She had them overnighted to me.

  Only my mom…

  I will love you always and forever.

  Hopefully, these will bring you some cheer.

  I’m a phone call away if you need me.

  Love Always,

  Mommy

  How did she get my address?

  I pick up my Bobbyphone and press the speed dial button.

  “Hey,” he answers.

  “Thank you. You know, you really didn’t have to do that. I’ll be reimbursing you, so you know.”

  “What are you talking about? Reimburse me for what?”

  “The dress.”

  “What dress?”

  “My cream dress. I got the new one.”

  “Jada, I didn’t send you anything.”

  “Yeah right. It magically dropped out of the sky?”

  “Are you talking about your wine stained dress?”

  “Yes. The cleaners told me it was ruined, and one just arrived by messenger.”

  “Well, it wasn’t me who sent it… but I have a pretty good idea who did.”

  Shit! Jonathan.

  “There is no way he could know where I got that dress and my size.”

  “Trust me, if he wanted to, he could… and evidently, he wanted to.”

  “Are you sure you’re not pulling my leg?”

  “No. I did not send you that dress. It looks like someone must want to make a pretty big impression on you, and it’s definitely not me.”

  “What should I do?”

  “This one’s on you, Sweetie.”

  “Why is he doing this?”

  You know why…

  “I told you why.”

  “Bobby. What if he’s doing this to get information from me?”

  “I highly doubt that since this all started before anyone ever knew Richard was dead.”

  I stay quiet, because for the first time, I realize that statement is true.

  “Wouldn’t it be career suicide for him if he was in anyway associated with me?”

  “Some might see it that way, but perhaps he doesn’t care what people say.”

  “He has to. His job is an elected position.”

  “Sweetie, the only person that can comment or answer any of these questions is Jonathan Kole himself.”

  “Is that your way of telling me to call him?”

  He breaks out in laughter. “I’m not going to be the one to make that decision. Now, I have to go. I love you.”

  “I love you back.”

  What kind of game is he playing? Why is he doing this? What does he want from me? Perhaps I need to call him and ask him. Alternatively, maybe I should shock the hell out of him and show up at his office. Perhaps then, he’ll realize what he’s putting at risk. However, option B has the potential to backfire, so perhaps I need to nix that idea. I know… I should get Charles to deal with his son. Then again, do I want Charles involved in my personal affairs? I decide to table the issue for now.

  Three days later, I’ve heard nothing further from the police or Charles, and the TV gossip has died down. I prepare to head into San Francisco. I want to keep a low profile, so I leave late in the afternoon. By the time I arrive, it’s nightfall. Before heading to the penthouse, I pick up my mail, thankful that no one is in sight when I walk through the lobby.

  Zoë has done an excellent job redecorating so far. She knows me well. I guess that’s why I’ve worked with her alone for the last five years. The master and living room are done to perfection. The work in the guest room has started, but it’s not complete. The kitchen is ninety percent done. The backsplash and hardware are missing.

  That leaves the office. I feel almost afraid to check to see if it has remained the same or if work has been completed. I take a deep breath and walk across the floors. I am both shocked and relieved when I see the space. It’s completely redone to the extent where I almost don’t recognize the space anymore. It looks nothing like my last memory and that I am immensely thankful for.

  All goes as planned the next day. My car is restored back to its original beauty, and my staff meeting went well. I am now on my way to my last appointment of the day to meet with Charles Kole for the first time in person.

  It’s late afternoon when I walk into his office. I’m fifteen minutes early. His secretary is getting ready to leave for the day. She directs me to a conference room and tells me that he’s wrapping up with another client and will be out to see me shortly. After setting a tray with some coffee and refreshments on the massive conference table, she leaves for the day.

  I walk towards the expanse of windows, coffee in hand. The views from the room are beautiful. It reminds me of the views from Richard’s townhouse.

  I’ve been worried about going to prison for a murder I didn’t commit. However, as I stand here alone, I wonder who did this and why? A knock on the door interrupts my thoughts. As I glance across the room, piercing grey eyes meet mine.

  “Jada,” he says slowly, stepping into the room. He looks absolutely fetching, clad in a navy suit and a crisp white shirt.

  “Hi. I didn’t expect to see you here.”

  “Neither did I.”

  “Are you back in town for good?”

  “I don’t think so… I’ll probably be splitting my time.”

  “Look, about the other day—”

  “Jada.” The tall and handsome older version of Jonathan walks into the room, interrupting our conversation. Jonathan got everything from him, but his eyes are blue. I suppose years from now, Jonathan will have salt and pepper colored hair and possibly a mustache to match his father’s.

  An awkward silence fills the space, and he looks questioningly at Jonathan, then me. I know he feels that he interrupted something. I have to end this strangeness.

  “Hi… hi Charles, it’s so nice to finally meet you in person,” I say, enclosing his hand between mine.

  “You too. You obviously know my son. Although I’m not quite sure why he’s here.”

  “Ah, yeah. I came in here looking for you. But I unexpectedly ran into Jada. You have a minute? It won’t be long. I ha
ve to get back to my office.”

  Charles looks at me, seemingly asking for permission.

  “Sure,” I reply.

  Jonathan looks at me in a we-have-to-finish-this-conversation sort of way and exits the room. His father follows closely behind.

  Ten minutes later, Charles returns. He pours himself a cup of coffee.

  “How have you been?” he asks.

  “I’m dealing with it. This is all very scary. The greatest offence I’ve ever been accused or suspected of is speeding.”

  “Try not to worry. We’ll get you through this.”

  “Have the investigators found anything?”

  “Yes. I wanted to go over some things with you.” He pulls out his laptop and a thick file with my name on it and sits next to me at the large table.

  “Your joint bank account—did you know that there were regular withdrawals placed into an offshore bank in the Cayman Islands?”

  “No. We used that account to pay for wedding expenses. We planned to pay our joint expenses from that account after we were married. How much money are we talking about?”

  “Ten thousand dollars a month…”

  “When we opened that account, each of us put in a hundred thousand dollars. Richard managed it. There should have been anywhere between one-hundred-and-thirty-five to one-hundred-and-fifty-thousand dollars left in that account. We initially were going to have a big wedding but changed our minds. I haven’t checked it, but I did keep track of wedding costs.” I dig into my satchel for my laptop. “Ten thousand dollars is a sizable amount of money. Why wouldn’t he mention that?”

  “I was hoping you might have some idea.”

  “What is the balance on that account? The one in the Cayman Islands?”

  “Close to seven million dollars. The account is registered under the name Clip Holdings.”

  “I have no idea who or what that is. This makes no sense. Richard and I had only discussed our finances together. I have no idea what he spent his money on outside of our relationship. We made a list of expenses we’d have as a couple and agreed to split the costs fifty-fifty, but he never indicated he had any issue or there was any problem whatsoever.”

  “Do you have a copy of those finances?”

  I nod. “I’m emailing it to you right now.”

  Minutes later, Charles says, “Jada, we have some huge discrepancies here.” He hands me a sheet of paper. “This is a list of Richard’s expenses the investigators provided me with.”

  I look at the list, and I’m shocked to find out that almost every single amount for all his expenses are doubled on my sheet. I take a deep breath and massage my temples. I feel a headache looming.

  “This means my fiancé was swindling money from me.”

  “It would appear so.”

  “I can’t believe this. By the look of this, he would have made twenty-five grand every month. What was his salary?”

  “Seven hundred thousand a year. That doesn’t include bonuses. Bonuses could increase that amount significantly.”

  “I don’t understand any of this. Why? Surely he made enough money.”

  “We’re still trying to put the pieces together. Let’s talk a little bit about his travelling.”

  “What about it?”

  “He’s travelled to Seattle, Portland, San Diego, L.A., Reno, and Las Vegas. Does that sound correct?”

  “All but Reno and Las Vegas. He’s been there recently?”

  Charles nods. “Interesting you should ask that. Every single time he traveled… to anywhere, he made a detour to either Reno or Las Vegas. Most of the time, the bulk of the trip was spent in those two places.”

  “Great. So now not only was he stealing from me, he was lying to me about where he went. Was he there two weeks ago?”

  “Yes, he was… in Las Vegas.”

  “Were there other affairs?”

  “So far, one we can find. A married woman named Alison McNabb, but your friend also accompanied him on many of those trips. She was also the one who discovered his body and called the police.”

  “What?”

  “I’m sorry. I know all this must be shocking.”

  “When did their affair start?”

  “From what we can tell, about nine months ago.”

  “This is unbelievable,” I say, rising to my feet and strolling away from the table. I pace the windows.

  “How did I not notice any of this? We saw each other almost every day. Spoke to each other several times a day. Stayed at each other’s place several times a week. How could I be so stupid not to notice or be suspicious of anything?”

  “You trusted him.”

  “He never gave me a reason not to. Until I walked in on him and Koto. Obviously, the police must have all this information… They still think I killed him?”

  “I guess they’re trying to characterize you as a pissed off ex.”

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  “Look, I think we’ve gone over enough for now. You’re going to be in town for a while?”

  “I think when I leave this office I might head straight back to Lake Tahoe.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Me, too. You know where to find me if you need me.”

  We shake hands, and he escorts me to the elevator.

  “Look, Jada, I know all of this has been very overwhelming and worrisome, but we’ll get you through this.”

  “Overwhelming is the understatement of the year.”

  “I know…” he says, looking at me sadly. “But I will do everything within my power to get you past this.”

  “Thanks.” The elevator door opens, and I wave him goodbye. I try to decide if I should head back to my penthouse or hit the road bound for Lake Tahoe.

  The doors open to the underground parking lot. As I walk towards my car, I hear the shutters of numerous cameras go off. I look behind me, and I see swarms of reporters with cameras running towards me. As I approach the car, another set are also heading towards me. There must be thirty or forty of them. They surround me, and I’m not sure what to do.

  It’s a scary experience. I try to remain calm, but all these people are shouting, calling out my name and asking me questions. I try to focus, but I feel like I can’t breathe. I feel woozy, I lose my balance, and then everything goes black.

  Chapter 4

  I open my eyes to very bright lights. I hear loud sirens. I see a man and a woman. The woman smiles at me and tells me to remain calm. I finally realize I’m in an ambulance. I close my eyes.

  A while later, I reopen them. There are no sirens. There are bright lights, but it is mostly quiet, with the exception of a few muffled voices. I am in the hospital. I’m eventually able to sit up.

  A few minutes later, a short Indian woman, probably in her fifties, enters the room. Her nametag reads Dr. Pricilla Parsaud.

  “Hi, Ms. McLean.”

  “Dr. Parsaud.”

  “How do you feel?”

  “A little anxious but at least I can breathe. I have a headache and the tips of my fingers tingle.”

  “You had a panic attack. You’re very stressed. Let me check you vitals.”

  She goes through all the normal procedures.

  “Your blood pressure is still very high. I want you to lie back… try to relax.”

  I look at my watch and realize about forty-five minutes have gone by.

  “Will I be able to go home soon?”

  “Maybe later, but not right now. You’ll need to call a friend to come pick you up. I won’t let you leave alone in this condition.”

  I think of whom I could call. Unfortunately, one of the people I’d usually call is dead, and the other is persona non grata. It’s too bad Bobby lives in Florida. I pick up my phone, and I have a missed call from Ian. Perfect. He will help.

  I call him, and with no hesitation, he tells me he’s on his way. An hour later, when he hasn’t arrived, I call him again. He tells me the traffic is bad outside the hospital, and the police are trying to
restore some order. At the same time, the door opens. Dr. Parsaud walks in and Charles follows behind.

  “Jada,” he says, holding my hand. “I’m so sorry. As soon as I heard, I had to come to check on you, but the traffic is horrible outside.”

  I quickly tell Ian I’ll call him back.

  “Coming back to San Francisco wasn’t such a great idea after all. I thought I was losing my mind.”

  “You’ll be okay. I’m not sure with all the commotion outside that I will be able to take you to your home, but I live minutes away. You can come home with me, and once things calm down, I’ll take you home.”

  “Thank you. I’d really appreciate that.”

  Dr. Parsaud writes me a prescription and advises me to take the meds if I get another attack. After filling it out at the pharmacy, I walk with Charles to his car.

  Thank God for tinted windows. He slips me into the back seat of his black Bentley Mulsanne—apparently the make and color of choice for the Kole men. Soon, we drive through the Pacific Heights area to his home.

  On the way, I call Ian and he is tremendously thankful when I tell him I got another ride. He then tells me that reporters are outside my condo as well.

  We arrive at Charles’s house. He welcomes me in. It’s old world European in style. Not necessarily my preference, but I appreciate its beauty. The foyer is grand, with a stunning circular staircase that welcomes one in. He escorts me to the living room and the views are unbelievable. The city’s iconic views are visible, from the Golden Gate Bridge to Alcatraz and the East Bay Hills.

  “Charles, this is spectacular.”

  “I’m lucky to be able to call this home. We’ve raised all our kids here. I wouldn’t live anywhere else.”

  “Who would with views like that?”

  “Daddy.”

  I hear the female voice coming from behind. I immediately turn my attention to her. Whom should I see standing in front of me? None other than Malibu Barbie. I’m almost certain I can feel the heat rising in my cheeks. I blush, completely embarrassed.