The Last Lie

by Dana Killion

  “Has Nadell ever pressured you to use lower quality materials?” I was still watching Seth trying to gauge my instincts on whether he was telling the truth.

  He laughed. “All the time. It’s one of our standing arguments.” He looked away for a moment, staring at the wall as if something horrible had just come back into his memory. “No.” He looked at me, eyes wide.

  “What? Are you remembering something?” I asked.

  “Months ago, in one of our endless disagreements over cost, he suggested we try other actives that would accomplish a similar natural high, was insistent about it. Said the customers really didn’t care about how, they just wanted to feel good. He’d even found some internet research to try to validate his point. I told him to stick to spreadsheets and never thought about it again.”

  “Belladonna?”

  He stared at me, mouth agape, shaking his head. “It can’t true. Would he have gone behind my back and substituted our botanicals with belladonna just to save a few cents?”

  “I need to know the date of that conversation and so does CPD.”

  40

  I scrolled through my phone as I left Seth. My foot was throbbing, I had a headache that felt like a drum quartet, and I desperately needed something to eat. I was also worried about Olivia. Seeing a couple emails that needed an immediate response, I sat in the waiting area and tapped out an answer before going down to make the rounds in the cafeteria.

  I dialed Michael while I was waiting for the elevator. As the doors opened, he stepped out, phone to his ear. We smiled and put away our devices.

  “Obviously, I was thinking about you” I said, my voice soft. “I was calling to see what’s happening with Olivia.”

  There were fifty additional questions swirling in my mind but Olivia was foremost.

  “Nadell’s pressing assault charges,” he said. “I came over to see what Bowman has to say about all this. How’s your sister?”

  A group of touring med students descended on us lining up for the elevator. A tipped my head toward the seating area and we stepped over. I sat on an open sofa and rested my foot on the wood coffee table in front of it.

  “Still hurts?” Michael asked, sitting down next to me. He ran his hand over his chin, then unbuttoned his coat.

  His eyes were tired and a bit sunken. Was it work or us? Or just the florescent lighting that made everyone look peaked?

  I nodded. “Too much standing today. Lane’s supposed to be released tomorrow. The drug is working.” I pulled a water bottle out of my bag hoping to calm my growling stomach. “Tell me about Nadell.”

  “You didn’t really think a guy like that would suffer public humiliation or physical abuse silently did you?” he scoffed.

  I hadn’t, but I’d hoped the fear of exposure would’ve knocked some sense into him, even if Olivia hadn’t. And the man clearly had exposure risks with both his wife and his financial situation. If there was even a chance that he was Olivia’s father, and he’d brushed her off like yesterday’s crumbs, assault charges seemed like a dumb bet or a diversion.

  “Sounds to me like he deserved humiliation,” I said. “Somehow ignoring that you fathered a child tends to piss people off. I don’t blame her. I’m sure she’d love to get in front of the camera and talk about what an ass her daddy is.”

  “That may be true, but she’d have been better off airing their dirty laundry on reality TV. At least everyone would know what to expect. I’m not sure what she hoped to gain out of that stunt. There are other ways to take him down.”

  Michael sounded a little cagey about the whole thing but maybe it was just the tension between us and I was reading into his tone.

  “Acknowledgement. Validation.” I shrugged. “Olivia told me he bought her mother a house. Abandoned them both before she was born.”

  Michael nodded.

  “There are any number of ways Olivia could make his life miserable if she chooses to,” I said, considering the options. “There has to be a paper trail on the home purchase. She’s over twenty-one so trying to sue for back payment of child support would be tricky, but she could make it ugly in public. And the Nadells run with an expensive crowd. But I don’t think it’s about money for her.” I was speculating, but the real question was what did she want?

  “The kid seems like a fighter to me,” I added, thinking about the tough couple of years she’d weathered. “We probably haven’t heard the last of how she intends to make his life hell. And if he wants to bring assault charges, he’ll open himself up to the charade of her paternity. But that’s up to them. Have you released her yet?” I asked, thinking about how alone she must feel.

  “Her attorney arranged bail thirty minutes ago.” Michael was silent for a moment. “How in the hell do you keep getting sucked into these messes?”

  The same question was going through my mind. The only problem with this mess is that it overlapped with my personal life. “Isn’t that like asking a cop why he spends all his time chasing bad guys?”

  Michael laughed but didn’t say anything. Wise.

  “So, you knew about Nadell?” Michael asked, when the silence became awkward, but his tone was a bit vague as if he were feeling me out.

  “Not everything. But it’s possible Nadell went around VTF’s production staff and changed at least one purchase order. Apparently, belladonna was a cheaper substitute for the botanical ingredients. I’ve seen an altered PO and Seth can pinpoint a date when he and Nadell had a fight about it. He’ll cooperate fully with you,” I said, filling him on how I knew.

  “Proof?”

  “Not really. Just the PO. You’d have to match the handwriting.”

  I thought about the chronology. The substitution would’ve occurred while Cavanaugh was the plant manager. I didn’t imagine he knowingly swapped the product, but hadn’t Olivia said something about Nadell having cancelled an order? It was conceivable that he’d had changed the order himself.

  “If Bowman can give us a date, that’ll help us narrow down the lot numbers. At the very least, we can be certain the contaminated product will be out of circulation. The lab is processing the raw materials so that will help as well,” Michael said, but we both knew that wasn’t a quick process.

  A pair of nurses walked past, giggling about their children’s antics, and distracting us for a moment.

  I turned back to Michael. “You’ve charged Nadell with reckless endangerment, tell me the details of the charge. What do you have?” I asked. I was still confused about how that happened and felt something was missing in my knowledge of the situation. “You obviously had a reason to bring him in, and I might add in a dramatic fashion, although it seems the legal eagle was a better negotiator, because he barely stayed long enough to set up a charging document.”

  Reckless endangerment charges required the extreme disregard for harm. Or had he brought Nadell in on some other issue? That depended on what Olivia knew and what she’d withheld from me.

  “You forget, we know how to fuck with people’s heads too. Maybe we staged our little catch and release so that we could watch what he did next.”

  “I can see that working with Nadell, but you can’t get him in the door without life-endangering conduct, so how did you yank him out of his office?”

  Michael paused and looked at me before responding. “I have a witness that claims he laced Kelly Cavanaugh’s drink with belladonna.”

  “What?” I snapped my head up, pulling my foot back to the floor and staring at him. “Who’s your witness?”

  “Your friend Olivia.”

  I could feel Michael’s eyes on me as I stared at the floor, processing what he’d just told me. Olivia had that information and hadn’t told anyone until now? She hadn’t even hinted at that in our conversations. Why? My next thought was why was she telling CPD now?

  I looked at him and lifted my hands. “What the hell?”

  “According to Olivia,” Michael said, “Nadell, Bowman, and Kelly partied late one night at the productio
n facility. Nadell was intrigued by the young woman, jealous of Seth’s relationship with her, and decided that he had a better shot of getting into her pants if she was high. He’d done his research on belladonna as a product ingredient and knew it could have a hallucinogenic effect. As you’ve learned, he’d already finagled the product substitution to cut costs. They were in the plant, it was convenient, all he had to do was pull a little off the stock shelf and lace her beer. Olivia wasn’t certain if they’d had sex, but two days later Kelly was dead. The toxin hadn’t shown up in her autopsy, in part because no one looked for it, and in part because the congenital heart issue distracted the medical examiner.”

  “Wait, a minute. I can’t wrap my head around this.” I ran through every impression I’d had of Olivia, of every word I remembered her saying. If she’d had this info the entire time, and not told anyone, she was the biggest liar in the bunch.

  “How would she know and how long has she known it?” Michael’s claims had me grasping. Every instinct I’d had about Olivia had been wrong, dead wrong.

  Michael leaned forward. “She claims she overheard Bowman and Nadell fighting about a month ago. It was the first she knew anything about Kelly or the belladonna.”

  “Do you believe her?”

  He shrugged. “She claims to have a recording of their conversation. She’ll turn it over, in exchange for immunity. Of course, Tierney’s office will handle the negotiations.”

  I let out a sigh, my mind surging with thoughts. What in the world was Olivia up to?

  41

  Olivia. She’d known about the belladonna and about Kelly and said nothing. I couldn’t get past the thought that I’d been played, that we’d all been played. Nothing that seemed real actually was. Seth, Nadell, Olivia? Where did the lies end? Olivia was the part that I just couldn’t reconcile, in large part because I felt manipulated and hadn’t seen it coming. Was that because I didn’t expect a 22-year-old kid to have the skill? Or was it my own bias? I’d be replaying this one for quite some time.

  The other thought that hit me long after speaking with Michael, was where had she gotten the bail money?

  To add another bizarre aspect to the day, the Drea Foundation cocktail party was still on schedule for tonight. I assumed it was Candiss’s way of pretending everything was normal or having one last shindig before her husband was confined to a cell. I hadn’t planned on taking her up on her invitation to join the Drea Foundation party, but it suddenly seemed like an interesting idea, journalistically speaking, anyway. An unfettered opportunity to see how Nadell and his wife handled themselves on the eve of him being charged with rape and murder. I could see the headline now “Gold Coast Elite’s Last Meal” or something equally tacky.

  Although I couldn’t imagine what the small talk would be like considering Nadell’s arrest this morning. Although the news coverage never hinted at anything other than a financial connection between Nadell and VTF, surely even their crowd had heard the news, despite the whitewashing. But what would anyone say to the guy? “Pass me a cheese puff. How will you spend your time in jail?”

  These were the thoughts that rolled through my mind as I slipped on a black sheath and my favorite pair of burgundy stilettos. My toe still hurt, but this was one fashion sacrifice I felt compelled to make.

  The Nadell home was a Gold Coast brownstone on State Street, supposedly built for some German beer baron in the late 1800s. I imagined it was a regular stop on the neighborhood walking tours. Ostentatious was the word that came to mind as I entered. If you were into ornate, overdone, highly carved status architecture, this was your place. Intricate wood panels lined the foyer and extended up the grand staircase. A marble mosaic punctuated the floor in the entrance before transitioning to wood inlay. I could see four large, crystal chandeliers just from my vantage point. Seemed like the perfect home for the Nadells.

  A maid took my coat and ushered me out of the foyer into a front parlor. Small groups of people huddled, sharing light banter, crystal glassware in hand. A waiter rotated through the room offering canapés.

  Candiss stood near the fireplace having her ear bent by a white-haired woman who spent as much time at the salon as she did. She smiled when she saw me and excused herself.

  “I’m so happy to see you,” she said without even a moment of awkwardness. “And your timing is perfect. I’d heard as much about the poor font choice for the gala invitation as I could stomach. Mrs. Anderle is a lovely woman, but she does drone on about the two things a season that sit in her craw. Let’s get you a drink and then I’ll introduce you.”

  I wasn’t sure if I should be stunned or impressed by her complete lack of acknowledgement of the day’s events. Surely it was as pressing on her mind as it was on mine. I accepted the offer of wine and stepped aside to observe the festivities from a neutral vantage point. Had I just joined an organization that spent their precious time embroiled in debates over the attributes of Times New Roman when there was a criminal in their midst?

  Candiss tapped on the side of her glass with a spoon to silence the group.

  “Everyone, may I have your attention for a moment. I just want to make a quick introduction and then you can get back to discussing your plans for the Bears vs. Packers game this Sunday. Notice I didn’t say it was a debate over which team would win.” The room laughed politely and the jazz pianist in the corner paused his play.

  “I’d like you to meet Drea’s newest board member, Andrea Kellner. Andrea joins us from Link-Media, with a background in journalism and the law. Please introduce yourselves, give her a warm welcome, but don’t scare her away,” she chastised.

  Candiss smiled graciously, and I felt twenty pairs of eyes searching to form a first impression. Aaron Nadell stood next to the baby grand, a practiced smile on his face, but his eyes sent another message. I shot my eyes to his leg, wondering about an ankle monitor and the power dynamics playing out in their marriage right now. What had he told her? And how in the world were they getting through the evening pretending everything was hunky-dory when a legal nightmare waited in their future. I imagined social power couples like the two of them had had a lot of practice swallowing emotion but this had to be seen to be believed.

  I also noticed that Candiss had chosen to be vague in describing my previous legal career. I imagined it was a subject she didn’t want highlighted tonight.

  As the room returned to my pre-entrance banter, I introduced myself to my fellow attendees, trying hard to remember names, their pedigrees, and even harder to overhear conversation. I also kept a close eye on Nadell. I hadn’t decided what I would say to him if I got an opportunity to speak to him alone, but it was my primary focus. Drugged any young girls lately was a cocktail party favorite. I doubted that Nadell had shared that tidbit yet with his wife, however, she’d know soon enough, as would everyone in this room.

  As I sipped my wine, I flitted from cluster to cluster curious about the scuttlebutt, while keeping an eye on Nadell. Despite Candiss’s head in the sand approach, the whispered conversation was all about her husband’s predicament. The gossip seemed centered around two issues, whether Aaron had made the proper choice of attorneys and whether Candiss was going to divorce him. Both issues seemed to be at fifty/fifty odds. Personally, I was betting she’d stay married to the guy. She seemed like the type to entomb herself in their lifestyle and stand by her man for appearances. Although with jail in his future, it might be the best of both world.

  A man in a red sweater, whose name I’d already forgotten excused himself, leaving Nadell alone near a cafe table that served as a staging spot for napkins and silverware. I made my move.

  “Lovely home you have Aaron. I imagine you really need that whisky after the week you’ve had. Do you care to comment on your role in the death of Kelly Cavanaugh? Is your wife aware that you’ve been accused of drugging her for sex?” I smiled sweetly at him as if I’d said nothing more than comment on the weather.

  His eyes flared at me and red crept up the skin of
neck as anger took hold. He opened his mouth to respond when Candiss moved to join us. I had the feeling she’d been watching for a sign she needed to referee. Rather than speak, he closed his mouth and took two steps back.

  Behind him, a flash of movement caught my eye. Olivia.

  She barged into the room a wild look on her face. Her eyes were red and swollen as if she’d been crying for hours. She beelined toward Nadell, oblivious to her arrival, leaving the maid in her wake. I swung my head my head from Olivia, to Candiss, and back to her husband. Candiss saw her first, a look of horror on her face. Did she recognize Olivia or did she simply feel the anger that exuded from her presence?

  “Did you think you could ignore me forever?” she screamed. “You treat people like toilet paper. Use them, discard them, never think about them again.”

  Nadell’s face had gone cherry red and the surrounding guests stared in confused silence, appalled by the outburst. Candiss got to Olivia three steps before me. She leaned close, taking Olivia by the arm, trying to avert the disaster. I had the sense that they weren’t strangers. But Olivia was consumed by her rage. Pushing aside Candiss’s grasp she continued to rail against the man.

  “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friends? Too bad my mother couldn’t be here to help you celebrate. She’s dead. Did you know that?”

  Olivia continued her tirade, moving closer. Nadell scanned the room, not seeing his guests horrified faces, but instead looking for an escape route.

  I stepped in front of Olivia and took her gently by the shoulders. “Sweetie, you’ve accomplished what you came to do. Come with me. Let’s talk this through. He can’t ignore you anymore. CPD won’t let that happen,” I said, trying to get her off the ledge she’d put herself on.

  Olivia barely heard me. She pushed my hands aside and made a run at Nadell. Guests shouted, screamed, and moved out of the way, as I went after her and Candiss toward her husband.