The Arrangement

by Suzanne Forster

The blaring horn pissed her off, and she slowed down. Let him go nuts back there. A jolt shook her car, causing her seat belt to lock. The horrible sound of crackling metal told her he’d hit her. What was he doing?

  Another jolt shook the car. Again? If only she’d put the gun Andrew had left her in her purse. She pulled over to the side and stopped, searching through her bag for her cell phone to call the police. The guy hadn’t hit her hard, but she had no idea who she was dealing with. If he drove on by, at least she’d be able to get his license number.

  Someone was banging on her car window. She turned and saw Bret’s face looming close to the glass.

  “Why the hell don’t you answer your phone?” he shouted at her. “I’ve been calling you every five minutes!”

  She hit the button to roll down the window. “Are you sure? The cell hasn’t rung.” She flipped it open to check it, and then realized he was talking about her phone, not the one Andrew had left her. She hadn’t even turned hers on. She wasn’t expecting any calls, except from Andrew.

  “Have you heard from Andrew?” she asked Bret. “Is that why you pulled me over?” Something else dawned on her as she stared at him. “How did you find me?”

  “You left the phone book lying open on your writing desk. It had a bunch of rest homes circled. I figured I’d go right down the list. What the hell are you doing?”

  She’d left the phone book open. God, that was idiotic, almost as stupid as not turning on her phone.

  “Never mind,” Marnie said. “What do you want?”

  Bret seemed to be taking a moment to catch his breath. “The sheriff’s office has a warrant for your arrest for LaDonna’s murder. They probably have an APB out for you right now. I’ll drive you down to the courthouse. Mom’s going to meet us there with an attorney.”

  “No—”

  “Alison, it’ll be all right. You have to come with me.”

  Marnie’s first impulse was to bolt. She wasn’t that far from the Mexican border. She could hit the gas and speed off. Bret might have a faster car, but he didn’t have her determination or her gut fear.

  She couldn’t let him take her down to the courthouse. They would discover who she really was, and God knew what would happen when that bomb exploded. She had no idea how it would affect her or Andrew, who knew nothing about this. She might never find her grandmother.

  Her hands tightened on the wheel. She could see the bones through her flesh, and her knuckles were a ghastly dead white. What was she going to do? And where the hell was Andrew?

  Marnie pulled over to the curb in front of the San Diego County Courthouse, cut the engine and got out of the car. She’d refused to let Bret drive her over, but had agreed when he insisted that she meet him in front. He’d offered to park her car while she spoke with Julia and the attorney—and he’d lectured her about not taking the situation seriously.

  He was acting just like a brother would in a crisis, she realized.

  Bret had told her to look for Julia and the lawyer on the courthouse steps. Marnie saw people clustered around, but she didn’t see Julia, or Bret, for that matter. He was probably still parking his own car. Marnie had seen the huge parking garage as she drove up.

  “Alison! Over here!”

  Julia rushed down the steps with a tall, distinguished man in tow. Marnie went around the car to meet them.

  “This is James Brainard.” Julia presented the attorney with a graceful wave of her arm. “He’s a brilliant criminal lawyer, and we’re so lucky he could take your case. He understands that you’re being framed by a jealous ex-boyfriend, and that this is about revenge, nothing else.”

  “An ex-boyfriend who just happens to be an FBI agent,” Marnie reminded them.

  Brainard extended his hand to her. His grip was solid, and she liked his demeanor. It gave the impression of gravity and concern.

  “I’ve met with the prosecutor,” he told her, “and she’s agreed to a speedy arraignment. We’re already on the court docket for one o’clock, so once we have you processed, we’ll go straight to the hearing.”

  “Processed?” Marnie asked.

  “Booked.” He seemed slightly apologetic for having to use the vernacular. “They’ll take fingerprints and mug shots. You’ll be searched. It’s not pleasant, but it has to be done if we’re going to post a bond today and get you out of here.”

  Fingerprints. Once they had Marnie’s they would discover she wasn’t Alison. She had no choice but to go along with it, however. Brainard was promising her that she would be out on bail before the day was over, and that might buy her a little time. Enough, she hoped, to reach Andrew and find her grandmother.

  “Can’t you do all that?” Julia was asking the attorney.

  “All what, Julia?” Brainard looked annoyed. “They don’t want my fingerprints. They want Alison’s.”

  “She will get out on bail, won’t she?” the older woman persisted. “They’re not going to put her in jail?”

  “It’s all right.” Marnie had to make her stop. Julia’s pleading tone was making her feel terribly claustrophobic.

  Brainard spoke directly to Marnie. “The prosecutor’s going to ask that you be held without bail. That’s her job, but I’ve spoken with her and she won’t go to the mat on this. She’ll agree to bail, as long as it’s high.”

  “How high?” Marnie asked.

  “I don’t expect it to be under a million. They want to be sure you don’t try to flee.”

  Stunned, Marnie glanced at Julia, who whispered that that was fine.

  “Now for the bad news,” Brainard said.

  “I thought that was the bad news.” Marnie listened in silence as the attorney told her a crime team had searched the house and found a gun in her nightstand.

  “They claim it was recently fired, but can’t prove it was the murder weapon. They’re waiting for lab results.”

  Julia gripped Marnie’s hand, squeezing much too hard. “What were you doing with a gun in your room?”

  “I’ve never touched it,” Marnie explained. “Andrew left it for me because he was worried about my safety. I was nearly hit by a terra-cotta pot that someone dropped from the balcony at Sea Clouds.”

  Julia gasped. “You didn’t tell me that! When did it happen?”

  Marnie tried to explain, but Brainard intervened, cupping Marnie’s elbow as if he intended to take her away and never bring her back. She wished he would!

  “Julia, will you excuse us?” he said. “I want to talk to my client for a minute.” When he had Marnie far enough away, he spoke in low tones. “I know you’ve never gone through this process before, but I have, many times. Let me handle everything, all right?”

  “Of course.”

  “The only thing I want you to do in the courtroom is plead not guilty to the charges, and look the judge in the eye when you do it.”

  “All right.”

  “And one last question. Have you told me everything? I don’t like surprises, Alison. I can’t be your attorney if you’re holding things back.”

  Marnie felt as if she were going to be ill. This was the moment she’d been dreading. How could she possibly proceed any further with this without telling him?

  Marnie stood before the judge. Numb with shock, she heard the bailiff read the two counts against her. She was being charged with her own murder? Somehow Tony Bogart had convinced the district attorney’s office that Alison Fairmont had pushed not one but two people off the cliffs, Marnie Hazelton and LaDonna Jeffries.

  She was not being charged with Butch Bogart’s murder. Apparently there wasn’t enough evidence.

  “Do you understand the charges?” the judge asked Marnie. When she nodded, he said, “How do you plead?”

  The lawyer’s words rang in her head, but she found it impossible to look the judge in the eyes. “Not guilty to both counts,” she said to the table.

  The judge turned to the prosecutor, a fortyish woman with a determined set to her mouth and a nasal voice.

  “
Do you have reason to believe that Mrs. Villard poses a threat to flee if released from custody?” he asked her.

  “Your Honor,” the prosecutor said, “she’s not even a resident of the state. Yes, I believe she poses a flight risk. I’m requesting that bail be denied and that she be held in custody pending trial.”

  James Brainard rose to protest, and Marnie realized he had long gray hair, pulled into a ponytail at his nape. Maybe it was her state of mind, but that caught her off guard. It didn’t seem to match his dignified mien or his immaculate dark suit.

  “Your Honor,” Brainard said, “Mrs. Villard is the daughter of Julia Fairmont, an exceedingly generous and well-known philanthropist and a long-standing member of this community. Mrs. Villard poses no flight risk, and we’re asking that bail be set at a reasonable amount.”

  Marnie listened with an odd kind of detachment as the prosecutor and her attorney mentioned amounts of money that were staggering to her.

  At last, the judge banged his gavel. “The bail is set at three million dollars. A bond can be posted with the clerk of courts.”

  Brainard protested, but His Honor wouldn’t budge. Alison Fairmont was going to pay through the nose for her freedom.

  Marnie didn’t say a word. Julia and her attorney had made it very clear that she shouldn’t do anything except declare her innocence.

  “Court is adjourned,” the judge announced.

  He rapped his gavel again, and Marnie Hazelton was a free woman, maybe for a matter of hours.

  Tony was caught off guard when Alison turned and faced the gallery. Shock must have drained the blood from her face. Her lips were bluish and her skin looked as thin as parchment, but with her hair flying everywhere and her eyes as big and dark as bruises, she was breathtaking.

  He still loved her. Christ. That was reason enough to send her to death row. She was killing people, apparently because they were inconvenient. She’d killed him when he became inconvenient, and she’d gotten away with it. He didn’t need convincing that this was the right thing to do. It was right.

  Her eyes searched the gallery. He felt a weird jolt as they found his. She seemed to be imploring him to explain, as if she didn’t understand why he’d done it. Tony felt something hot flare in the pit of his gut. Not anger, guilt.

  He watched as they led her out, and the uneasy feeling persisted. Her family would pay the bail bond and have her out in an hour. They’d already hired her a big-name defense attorney. The county would have a fight on its hands putting Alison Fairmont in jail, but Tony couldn’t get her bewildered expression out of his mind.

  What he needed right now was a firing range and his .40 Glock. That would clear his head.

  He went over the evidence in his mind as he left the courtroom. After witnessing LaDonna’s murder, he’d begun to see how it all could have come together. He’d concluded from the anonymous calls and the hair barrette he’d found that Alison had pushed Marnie Hazelton, and then she’d bribed LaDonna, who was on the beach that night, to keep quiet. Alison’s disappearance from the yacht was probably intended to be an incredibly clever alibi, but somehow the plan had backfired, and she’d been injured badly enough to require plastic surgery. Her husband may or may not have been in on it. That wasn’t clear to Tony, but Alison must have panicked and killed LaDonna to make sure she didn’t talk.

  Pay attention, he told himself. Focus on what has to be done.

  Six months ago Alison defended herself against Butch’s retribution and then covered up her brutal crime by eliminating Marnie, the only witness. Tony had some promising forensic evidence to corroborate the second crime, and he was an eyewitness to her deadly attack on LaDonna. But one significant mystery was still unsolved—the identity of Tony’s voice-mail snitch. Someone had placed those anonymous calls to his cell, and that person was vital to the case. His informant’s testimony at the trial might be the only way to make sure Alison didn’t escape justice. Tony also had to find Andrew Villard. His disappearance was just too convenient. The bastard was up to something.

  28

  “Alison, you’re not drinking? It’s delicious.” Julia picked up the bottle of California chardonnay they were having with the salmon Bret had just barbecued for dinner. “Are you still upset about this afternoon?”

  Marnie could hardly bring herself to answer the question, it was so ridiculous. Julia and Bret were acting like this was just another dinner at Sea Clouds. She didn’t know whether they were in denial or delusional.

  “Why would I be upset?” she said. “It was only two charges of premeditated murder. It could have been so much worse.”

  Her sarcasm was evident. She was too much on edge to try and pretend otherwise. She’d been waiting all afternoon for word that the prints didn’t match. There was no way to explain away evidence as concrete as fingerprints, which meant the lid would blow once everyone knew she wasn’t Alison. But the call hadn’t come—and the waiting was terrible.

  She needed to talk to Andrew. She still hadn’t been able to get through on the phone, and he hadn’t called. Meanwhile, she was struggling to convince herself that something hadn’t happened to him. Even the sheriff’s office was making inquiries, and she didn’t know how much longer she could hold them off.

  “Well, excuse me,” Julia said, clearly miffed, “for bailing you out and getting you the best criminal defense lawyer money can buy. If you want to take that attitude, go right ahead. I’m going to stay positive.”

  “Me, too,” Bret said, grinning over the top of his wine glass. He winked at Marnie. “But don’t you change, sis. I like it when you’re a nasty little bitch.”

  Marnie ignored him. There wasn’t much else you could do with Bret, and she’d begun to think of him as annoying but harmless. Andrew’s absence felt far more sinister than Bret’s presence. At least Bret was making an effort to be supportive in his own weird way. He’d offered to cook tonight when Rebecca went to her room, saying she didn’t feel well—and he’d suggested the three of them have dinner on the terrace, where it was quiet and cool.

  Marnie drew her cardigan sweater around her shoulders. She’d showered and changed into a simple cotton sundress with a matching sweater when they got back from court. It was getting a little chilly now, but otherwise dinner on the terrace had been a good idea.

  A pink mist lay over the sea, and the sun was as red and round as a pomegranate. She might have enjoyed the view under other circumstances.

  “I appreciate everything you’re doing,” she assured Julia. “I really do, more than I can say.”

  Julia smiled and gushed, “Darling, it’s going to be fine. You’ve had a terrible time, I know, but try not to make it worse.”

  Marnie nodded. Agreeing was probably the only way to get Julia to stop being so insanely upbeat. She’d taken on the role of cheerleader and she seemed determined to make Marnie believe that the lawyer she’d hired would have the case thrown out in no time. That’s how good he was and how flimsy the county’s case was.

  Marnie guessed this was typical of families during tough times, and especially the wealthy. They drew together and closed ranks. But it went against everything in her own nature. Given the choice, she would have pulled away from the group and taken cover, alone. It was what she knew. The Fairmont family esprit de corps felt dangerous to her, especially since she wasn’t part of this family, and that bombshell might be revealed at any minute. The phone could ring and it would all be over.

  She almost wished it would.

  “Wine?” Julia said, lifting the bottle.

  “Sure.” Marnie held out her glass and Julia rose to fill it. Maybe she’d just get drunk. It seemed to work for everybody else.

  “What do you hear from the hubby?” Bret asked.

  Marnie continued to ignore him, proud of herself for not taking the bait he kept dangling. He knew she hadn’t heard from Andrew. He was just twisting the knife. She flaked some salmon with her fork, moving it around on her plate. The bite or two she’d had was deli
cious, but she had no appetite at all.

  “Maybe I should take something up to Rebecca,” she suggested. “She must be hungry.”

  “I’ll do so later,” Julia said. “That way I can have a little talk with her. I’m afraid she’s taking this badly, even worse than we are. Of course, the Driscolls always soldier through—and we all have Driscoll blood, don’t we?”

  The soldiering-through part sounded like a quote from Julia’s mother, Eleanor. It was interesting how often Julia quoted the person she supposedly hated. Marnie knew from her own experience that Alison’s relationship with her mother was complicated. Surely Julia’s relationship with her own mother was about more than hatred.

  “Would it help if I spoke to Rebecca as well?” Marnie asked. “If it’s me she’s worried about I could reassure her.”

  “That would be very nice, Alison. By the way, you didn’t answer your brother when he asked about Andrew. And I heard you tell that detective—what was his name, Connelly?—that you hadn’t heard from him.”

  Julia just wouldn’t shut up tonight.

  “You understand that if he doesn’t show up soon,” she continued, “the officials will surely start searching for him. If you have some way to reach him, it might be a good idea.”

  “Don’t you think I’m trying to reach him?” Her voice cracked with frustration, and she took a moment to calm herself. “I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s the stress. I’ve left messages for him daily, including an emergency message on his pager. I’m sure he’ll call soon.”

  She prayed Julia would let it go. Marnie had reached the point where she didn’t believe Andrew was going to call—she should have known he wouldn’t keep all those ridiculous promises he’d made about protecting her and finding her grandmother. He hadn’t even answered his messages. She’d actually had moments of thinking it would be easier if something terrible had happened to him. At least she would know he hadn’t run out on her.

  She touched her throat, slammed by the realization that he had her penny ring. She’d insisted he take it with him. With that awareness came the horrible sinking feeling that she was lost. Truly lost. What an idiot she’d been, getting caught up in the sex they’d had and offering him the only thing she really valued. What an incredible idiot. She was in this alone, and once she’d been exposed, the Fairmonts would turn against her, too.