The Girl Next Door

by Lisa Aurello

  The prosecution siphoned off any remaining faith in the defense with the strongest evidence against the defendant: Ms. Ortalano had been identified by Benny Rodell in a lineup and then again in the courtroom as the woman who paid off the killer. She’d also been identified by Pernod, the hit man. Unfortunately, Kathy Carter, the driver who witnessed the auto accident, didn’t get a long or close enough look at the driver to be able to definitively ID the defendant, but her testimony helped in placing Kendra at the scene of the accident as well as the payoff.

  As for Caldwell, he was in court nearly every day, reprising his role of the grief-stricken husband. He never went alone, always surrounded by an entourage of friends and family, and a retinue of security in case any wackos came after him. His handsome face appeared on the front page of news outlets all week, and women began calling and emailing him. One Twitter user had dubbed him the worth-it-widower and the moniker stuck for a while. The press coined a sobriquet for the defendant too: Triple-K for Krazy Killer Kendra

  Rhett Harmon mined every lead and peered into every shadowed corner but could never could dig up enough to try Mason Caldwell as a co-conspirator. The profile Luca Derricks compiled on him showed him to be a narcissist with some sociopathic tendencies but still within the normal range. There was no concrete or circumstantial evidence to tie him to the crime. In fact, other than the DA’s instinct, the only other suggestion of his guilt came from Kendra and her vehement accusations. It just wasn’t enough.

  One person who was not in attendance in court was Jane Jensen. Rhett wasn’t at all surprised, and she didn’t think anyone expected her to be. After all, the woman was arrested and spent two or three nights at the Rikers hotel before finally getting released. Rhett had learned that Jane had already leased out her newly acquired home to a young family, put all her belongings into storage, and went into self-enforced seclusion. She did, however, keep her job and faithfully showed up each and every day. News reporters would camp out in the lobby of the building during any high points of the trial, and Jane would be spirited in and out through other entrances and exits. One thing was for sure: her employer backed her every step of the way.

  Rhett couldn’t bring herself to feel any remorse for what happened to Jane Jensen, though she believed she should. It’s just the way things happen to people sometimes, and it was nothing personal. The one aspect that did give her pause was how the whole arrest and subsequent trial prep tailgated Ms. Jensen’s ghastly accident—courtesy of one Kendra Ortalano, or inmate 304468962 as she was now known. Jane Jensen’s longtime bully had finally been put of business.

  Justicia fiat.

  ******

  After the convictions came down, there was a celebration in the DA’s office. The champagne had not yet lost its bubbles when Jackson Altamont made his way over to Rhett Harmon’s desk.

  “Got a minute?”

  Rhett skirted her desk and nearly collapsed into her chair. She was bone-tired, having spent the day on her feet in court. All she wanted now was a hot bath, a cold glass of vodka, and a warm man. Unfortunately, she’d probably get only two of the three. “What’s up?” she answered Jackson.

  “Something interesting came up with the Caldwell case. Want to know?”

  Rhett sighed. This case nearly drove her insane, taking so many turns that it confounded all of them at times. At some point, each and every player was considered a guilty party. Rhett’s mentor, the incomparable DA Evan Bond, told her something the first day she began working for him that she took to heart and would herself pass on to a newbie someday. She could still hear his graveled voice as he cautioned her, sitting on the edge of her desk, elbow propped on his crossed arm, and gnawing on a pencil—he was always chewing pencils, a substitute for the cigarettes he never stopped missing. “Rhett, there are going to be cases that stick in your craw. Cases where you’ll know someone is as guilty as sin but you can’t prove it. And if you can’t prove it, you can’t prosecute. He’ll walk. Or she will. And there’s not a single thing you can do about it. So celebrate the victories and do not dwell on the failures. Just do your job to the best of your ability. That’s what the taxpayers are paying us to do—not to pontificate and definitely not to waste their money.”

  Now she looked up at Jackson’s earnest face. The important thing for their office was that they won a conviction and Cate Caldwell received a measure of justice. Though Rhett believed with every molecule in her body that Mason Caldwell was complicit in his wife’s murder, and Ortalano had consistently maintained that he helped her plan it, the evidence just wasn’t there. They’d pored over phone records; they’d checked every one of his alibis for the points of the murder plot. Zilch and nada. He came out as squeaky clean as a rubber fucking ducky.

  The insurance company balked at paying out the policy as long as there was a shadow of a doubt over his innocence and kept postponing the payout, but ultimately it had to cough it up when threatened with a lawsuit. It still pissed off Rhett massively. And it scorched Cate’s mother’s ass for sure. That woman was out for blood and guts, and she didn’t get enough of it. She shared Rhett’s belief of her son-in-law’s guilt. Mason had better watch his back.

  Snapping out of her thoughts and back into reality, she finally answered Jackson. “I probably should say no, but you’re most likely aware that it’s just not in my DNA to decline information of any stripe. Go ahead.”

  “Well, I was combing through the case, preparing the transcript for the civil suit when I stumbled upon an interesting fact. Remember when I told you that Cate Caldwell took some time off from school? Well, Jane Jensen and Cate Caldwell attended Brown at the same time for a year. I dug a little further just for the sheer fun of it, obtaining official transcripts for both and they were in at least one class together.”

  Her glare practically neutered him on the spot, and he almost reached down to protect his junk. “Cate was three years older than Jane,” she snarled. “How much time did Cate take off?”

  “Apparently, she left school during her junior year because her brother was ill, and she returned a few years later to finish her degree.”

  Her eyelids dropped shut as she sighed. “God, I hope it’s just one of those bizarro coincidences and not another twist in that fucking case. I hate the damn thing.”

  Trying to de-escalate her stress, he chuckled. “You and I both. All right, just thought I’d let you know. Probably doesn’t mean anything.”

  “Yeah. Probably. Thanks, Jackson, for losing me sleep tonight.”

  “You bet. Goodnight, Counselor. I can’t believe you’re absconding to the other side. A slimy defense attorney? Really?”

  Laughing, her mind floated to her new cushy office and a way higher number in front of the zeros of her annual salary. She’d just accepted the law firm’s offer about an hour ago, though the partners had been courting her for months. “I can’t believe it myself, Jax. Remember Luca Derricks, the feebie who helped us with Mason’s profile? He began his career as a defense attorney and he’s going back. He talked me into changing sides with him. His silver tongue helped convince me.” A rush of heat blossomed in her face when she realized her last comment sounded dirty. Or did it? Maybe her mind was the only one in the gutter.

  Jackson shook his head. “He was the deciding factor? Well, when you can’t sleep tonight, if you need something to do, give me a shout. I’ll keep you company in that big lonely bed of yours.” Eyebrows arched, a mischievous gleam in his eye—he was serious about the proposition.

  No, her mind wasn’t solo in the gutter. She tilted her head, studying him. Jackson had never come on to her before but he probably considered her fair game now that she was leaving the DA’s office. She wondered what it would be like to sleep with him. She cleared her throat. “I will be certain to keep that in mind. Goodnight, Jax, and thanks for your great work as always.”

  Chapter 42

  “You’ve already rented it out?” Mel asked.

  Jane grinned at Mel’s surprise. “Yes.
When and if the O’Briens decide to move out, I’ll list it for sale. I love the house, but I’ll never feel comfortable there again, you know?”

  “Bad juju. I think it’s the right thing. Hey, why don’t you move to Manhattan close to me? For what you’ll get for the townhouse, you can probably afford at least a hundred square feet in Soho.”

  Jane laughed. “Trade in 1750 square feet for a hundred, huh? I don’t think so.”

  Mel’s eyes widened and she grabbed both of Jane’s hands. “Oh, come on, Jane. We’ll have so much fun.”

  Jane’s head tilted back as she laughed. Mel’s enthusiasm was infectious. “We’ll see. Maybe...” She was about to say something else but stalled, a strange expression crossing her face.

  “What?” Mel asked, blunt being her personal art form.

  “So… um, are you still seeing Fitzgibbons?”

  Mel held onto one of Jane’s hands and tugged her forward. “Let’s get a table first, and then we’ll talk. I’m starving.”

  They were at Mel’s favorite bistro, located around the corner from her apartment. It had a great brunch menu and served pitchers of Mimosas or Oyster Marys, which kept Mel coming every chance she got. The brunch crowd was just starting to arrive so they were able to get a table right away, a total score in NYC. Once they were seated and the waiter brought their lattes, Jane looked at Mel expectantly. “So?”

  Mel scrunched up her nose not really wanting to answer the question. That barely-there relationship had been a casualty of the case. It had been, what? Three weeks since Kendra Ortalano had been convicted but more than six months since she’d last seen Rob, and she hadn’t heard much from him beyond the few text messages he’d sent during the trial. She had no plans to initiate contact since he was the one in the wrong. It very much looked like it was a done deal at this point, though, since he hadn’t gone out of his way to return to her life. “You know we stopped seeing each other after your arrest, right?”

  “Mmm, I figured as much. Suddenly you stopped gushing over him.”

  “Tsk.” She squinted her eyes. “I never gushed. I don’t gush.”

  “You did.”

  “Well, whatever. I liked him—a lot—but if he wants to ever see me again then he’s got to make the first move. He was wrong, and I’m dead set on the sinner making the atonement.” Her remark earned her a funny look from Jane. She sniffed. “I would consider forgiving him for being a suspicious jerk about you… if he groveled for at least a week.”

  “Well, I don’t forgive him.”

  Mel wasn’t sure if Jane was joking or meant it, but she decided to slough it off. “Well, that’s because you weren’t fucking the dude—he has a giant dick, Jane. Do you really expect me to just give that up with no regrets?”

  Scowling at Mel’s words, Jane finally had to laugh. “Well, when you put it that way… but though he might have a giant dick, I still maintain that he is a giant dick.”

  “Only fair.” Mel agreed, taking a sip of her latte. “Mmm, God, I love coffee. I would feel exactly the same if I were you, Jane. Please take note that I, however, never faltered in my loyalty to and belief in you.”

  Sighing, Jane reached across the table and took her friend’s hand. “I have taken note, Mel, more than a few times. I would never have survived the whole ordeal without you. I hope you know that.”

  Mel’s eyes prickled. “I do know, chica. I do. Now…” She clapped her hands. “…let’s eat.”

  ******

  One foot on the couch and the other stretched out and propped on the coffee table, Mel lounged on her overstuffed purple velvet sofa watching a French comedy and polishing her toenails. Two days before, she’d helped Jane find a small studio sublet around the corner from Mel’s own apartment. Jane had four months in the apartment to decide where to go from there. When the doorbell rang just as she was about to begin doing the last toe on the first foot, she figured it was her brand-new neighbor.

  “Perfect timing, Jane,” she muttered and carefully placed the brush back into the bottle of Sally Hansen 401, a lustrous dark cinnamon. “One min,” she yelled as she screwed the lid closed.

  Getting up, she gingerly used her right foot that had four toenails gleaming with fresh polish and one sad, naked pinkie toe. Jane must have slipped in behind a resident to get upstairs because Mel hadn’t buzzed her into the six-story limestone building.

  When she peeked through the peephole, Mel sucked in her breath. It wasn’t Jane.

  “Are you going to let me in?” The deep timbre of his voice rumbled through the door and right into Mel’s body, sending a shiver pirouetting up her spine.

  Smiling, she leaned against the door. “Depends.”

  “On?”

  “Are you here to apologize?”

  “Something like that. Open the door, Mel.”

  “Fine,” she sighed loudly, flinging open the door, “but you better be here to admit you were wrong about Jane and apologize to me for your pigheadedness—and also the long delay in getting back in touch.”

  Rob Fitzgibbons stepped across the threshold and replied lightly, “I’ll apologize, but we’re going to have to leave it at that.” He smiled broadly, and his eyes scanned her head to unfinished toe. “It’s good to see you—you look good.”

  Mel turned, her gait airy, and led him into the living room. “It’s because my life is finally back to normal—well, what I call normal anyway.” She plopped back onto the sofa, her toenails forgotten. “And I’ve finally caught up on my sleep deficit that was months in the making.”

  “Good, I’m glad to hear that.” He stood stiffly at the end of the sofa, just looking at her.

  She motioned with her arm toward the empty end of the couch. “Have a seat?”

  Nodding, he inhaled audibly but didn’t speak as he lowered himself to the sofa. Mel figured he had something to say and waited for him to spit it out. Meanwhile, she checked him out thoroughly. The detective was one fine specimen of the human male, and Mel did appreciate ogling him. Though broad in the shoulders, Rob was lean with lots of definition. Ripped. His light eyes and tanned complexion provided nice contrast and his brown hair was silky to the touch.

  “Are you all Irish?” she blurted out.

  Rob’s head popped up. “What made you go there?”

  She hitched her shoulder, unable to hide her grin. “I was just… admiring… your appearance, and I realized that your complexion isn’t as fair as most Irish. There’s gotta be something else mixed up in there.”

  “Yeah, as a matter of fact, I’m a quarter Italian—but I told you that already—and an eighth Native American. Cherokee.”

  “Ah, that ‘splains it. You’re very pretty—but you know that.”

  “Pretty?” He huffed a laugh. “I don’t think most men would appreciate being called that, Melanie. But, hey, I guess the sentiment is well intentioned.”

  She tucked one foot underneath her, stretching out the one with the polished nails. “All right, Detective. Say what you came to say. I’m in the middle of my pedicure.”

  He looked down at her unfinished foot and pressed his lips together. “OK, look. I’m sorry for some of the things I said and did, but I honestly had little choice. Your friend was a defendant in a case I was involved with and there were few choices to be made. Now she is no longer a defendant, so there’s no reason for us to keep apart, and I’d really like to see you again, Mel. I’ve missed you.”

  “Hmm. Most of that doesn’t sound like an apology. What about the way you treated Jane?”

  Contempt fleeted across his face before he wiped it clean. “I treated her the way I treat anyone who has been arrested and charged with a serious crime. Why should I apologize for doing my job?”

  “You were wrong, that’s why, and you refused to take seriously the information I had that partially exonerated Jane.”

  “Point taken, but we had so much more against her.”

  “It was all manufactured,” Mel jumped in, volume rising. “If I could se
e that, you should have been able to see it. You’re a trained detective.”

  “Right, except I still don’t believe it. It smacked of a setup.”

  “A setup?”

  “Of Ortalano.” His voice was grim.

  Mel bolted up from her seated position. “Wait a second. Are you telling me that you didn’t believe Jane was framed, but you do believe that Kendra Ortalano was set up?”

  “Bingo.”

  Mel’s hand was itching to slap him. “What are you talking about? Jane was vindicated.”

  He sat there, chewing his cheek and looking straight ahead. Without shifting his gaze, he added, “Let’s just move on. I’ve apologized to you for how I treated you. That’s what’s important.” He reached out to grasp her hand and finally looked her in the eye. “Can we just try to pick up where we left off? I really like you, Mel, and I told you already that I think we can have something good together.”

  Growling, Mel spun around in a circle before stopping to look at him. For a pregnant minute, she just stood there in front of him, saying nothing but staring at his face, infuriated and yet immensely turned on. Throw him out or kiss him breathless? Then she held out her foot. “Do you like my nail polish?”

  Rob shook his head, laughing, as he stood up and pulled her into his arms. “Yes, I love it. Want me to finish your other foot? I used to polish my sister’s nails all the time because I had a steadier hand.”

  “Game on, babes. Do a good job and I just might buy you a couple of burritos for your trouble.”