Death, Taxes, and Green Tea Ice Cream

by Diane Kelly

  He made a final note before setting his pen down. “I have to warn you,” Anthony said. “Now that Kerr has decided to go forward with this trial, he is going to milk this case for all it’s worth. This trial is going to get a lot of media attention. If any reporters corner you, smile and tell them your attorney has advised you not to speak about the case until you’ve been acquitted. Got that?”

  I nodded. It was all I could do. That lump in my throat had swelled to the point that I feared my esophagus might explode.

  “The media will probably try to catch you going into work, and they’ll surely try to catch you at home. Do you have somewhere you can hide out until this blows over?”

  I nodded again. I could stay at Nick’s. It was only a half block down from my town house, but if I drove into the neighborhood the back way and parked in his garage I could likely avoid detection.

  Finished, my attorney stood and came around the desk, taking my hand in his and holding it up in an act of strength and solidarity. “We are going to give Troy Kerr the fight of his life. When we’re done, he’ll be sorry he ever messed with either of us.”

  I forced a smile.

  “Keep your chin up, okay?”

  I swallowed the lump. “I’ll do my best.”

  chapter eighteen

  The Show Must Go On … and So Must I

  With a final reassuring pat on the back, my attorney passed me off to his secretary. The woman prepared a power of attorney giving my parents the right to manage my financial affairs in the event of my incarceration. She asked to see my driver’s license, jotted down the number in her public notary book, and stamped the document with her official notary seal. After sliding the paperwork into a manila envelope she held it out to me. “Here you go.”

  “Thanks.” I returned to the elevator and stepped into the car. When I reached the garage, I shuffled forward like a zombie, my mind in a haze.

  I needed Nick. Now. But he was up in the air somewhere, flying to Tokyo. Damn! Now I knew how Brett felt when I hadn’t been available for him when he needed me.

  I texted Nick the news in two succinct words. Indicted.*%$&!

  I phoned Christina. Might as well warn her that she’d be contacted by Giacomo to testify in the case. Unfortunately, I only got her voice mail. I left a quick message.

  I phoned Eddie next. “The grand jury indicted me. I’m going to trial on excessive force charges.”

  “Oh, hell, Tara. That’s screwed up.”

  “You’re telling me.”

  He was silent a moment as he processed the information. “What can I do to help? Can I testify on your behalf?”

  Though Eddie hadn’t worked the investigation at Guys & Dolls, as my partner on numerous previous cases Eddie knew better than anyone how I operated under pressure. He’d seen me shoot a box cutter out of the hand of a target who was attacking me. Eddie knew I exercised remarkable restraint given the violent criminals we faced on a regular basis.

  “Would you?” I asked. Eddie’s testimony could be critical in getting me a shorter sentence if I was convicted.

  “Of course. Give me your lawyer’s number.”

  I rattled off the phone number.

  “Have you told Nick yet?” Eddie asked.

  “I texted him. He’s on his flight to Tokyo as we speak.”

  “He’ll go ballistic,” Eddie said.

  “Would you tell Lu for me?” I wasn’t up to telling her about this latest development. I knew she’d be concerned about me, but I felt guilty. She’d hired me, convinced the audit department to take me on now. How would my actions reflect on her?

  “Be glad to,” Eddie said.

  * * *

  When I phoned my parents with the news, the quaver in my mother’s voice told me she was fighting sobs but trying to stay strong for me.

  “Don’t worry yourself over this, hon,” she said, though obviously she was worried herself. “Everything will come out at trial and you’ll be exonerated.”

  I wished I could share her faith.

  My father declared my indictment a travesty of justice and a waste of taxpayer money. “I don’t know what that prosecutor is thinking, taking you to trial. I have half a mind to call our congressman.”

  I convinced him that making the call would only make matters worse. Besides, though I appreciated his concern, I was much too old to have my daddy fighting my battles for me. Nevertheless, my parents insisted on driving out to Dallas to support me.

  “We’ll hit the road Sunday just as soon as we get out of church,” my mother said.

  Nick called soon after while he was on his layover at LAX. “This is bullshit, Tara. Pure bullshit!” His words were tinged with equal parts anger and frustration, though his tone softened a moment later. “How are you holding up?”

  “As well as can be expected, I guess.” Hearing Nick’s voice made his absence more acute. What I wouldn’t give to have his strong arms around me right then. But no sense putting the guy on a guilt trip. “My arraignment is Monday morning. Anthony said it’s unlikely I’ll be denied bail, but you’ll come visit me in jail if I am, right?”

  “Hell yeah,” Nick said. “I’ll bake you a cake with a file inside.”

  “Make it chocolate,” I said. “With sprinkles on top.”

  As I hung up the phone, it hit me that if I was convicted and sent to jail Nick would be forced to put his life on hold, too. He’d already lost three years when he’d been in forced exile in Mexico. It would be unfair to expect him to wait for me. I had no right to ask that of him. But the thought of him moving on, of him falling in love with another woman … Hell, they might as well execute me.

  * * *

  Early that evening, I tried making sushi with the kit Nick had bought me for Christmas. Of course I was too lazy to make a trip to the grocery store, so I improvised with things I found in my fridge. The roast beef sushi wasn’t bad, though the hot dog sushi was a wretched combination. Fortunately, Nutty made short work of it when I fed it to him. Not a picky eater, that dog. Henry watched from the kitchen doorway, a look of disgust on his face that I’d let a dog into my house. At least Henry’d grown accustomed enough to having Nutty around that he no longer hissed incessantly. Annie still gave the dog wide berth, though Nutty had no interest in chasing her.

  Around seven, the walls began to close in on me and a sense of loneliness permeated every cell of my body. All of my friends were tied up with holiday visits and Alicia wouldn’t be back until later tonight, so I was on my own for the evening. I took Nutty back to Nick’s place so he could use the doggy door to relieve himself during the evening, and decided to drop by Guys & Dolls and see the show. My former supervisor, Merle, now owned the place, along with his new wife, Bernice.

  The last time I’d been to the club was the night of the shooting. A mix of feelings hit me as I pulled into the parking lot.

  Fear.

  Anxiety.

  Disgust.

  Horror.

  Rage.

  But no guilt.

  I wasn’t guilty, was I? I hadn’t overreacted the night I’d shot Don Geils. In fact, I’d exercised control by holding back and only shooting him in the leg.

  Santa was right. I belonged on his “nice” list.

  Maddie, the former stripper who now worked as a fully clothed hostess, let me in for free. Every ticket had been sold, but she rounded up a barstool for me to sit on along the back wall. Probably a fire code violation, but what the heck.

  I gave the young woman a smile. “Thanks, Maddie.”

  She smiled back. “Enjoy the show.”

  When they’d taken over the club after Geils’ arrest, Merle and Bernice had removed the stripper poles from the stage and hauled off the nude statuary, though they’d left the black-and-gold art deco furniture and accents in place. Without the bare cleavage bouncing all about, the club now had a classy, retro feel to it.

  While they’d been running Mary Poppins for a couple of weeks now, tonight’s performance was a v
ariety show featuring an assortment of local talent including singers, a magician, a comedian, and a tap-dancing trio. For the closing number, Bernice, a former Vegas showgirl and exotic dancer of indeterminate age, took the stage in a champagne-colored evening gown the same shade as her carefully coiffed locks. A gray-haired man in a tuxedo took a seat at the black baby grand piano at the back of the stage. Bernice stepped up to the old-fashioned standing microphone and launched into a stunning and emotional rendition of Etta James’ song “At Last.” As Bernice sang the final stanza, she gestured for her new husband, Merle, to join her onstage. Merle, who could pass for an aged Charlie Brown with his bald head and boxy build, blushed as his bride serenaded him.

  It had taken decades for the two to make their way to each other, but I had no doubt nothing would ever again keep them apart.

  When the show was over, the crowd leaped to their feet and gave Bernice a well-deserved standing ovation. She responded with a smile and curtsy, then turned to Merle and gave him a big kiss on the cheek.

  As the crowd gathered up their things and strolled out, Merle and Bernice wandered over my way.

  “Great show,” I told them, fighting a smile when I noticed the red lipstick smudge on Merle’s cheek. “There was something for everyone.”

  “It’s sold out every night,” Bernice said. “We can hardly believe it.”

  I offered them a smile. “Congratulations. You deserve every success.” After putting up with Don Geils, hell, the two should get a medal.

  “I’m sorry you lost your job,” Merle said.

  “Losing my job was only the beginning. Don Geils has filed a ten-million-dollar assault and battery case, and the Department of Justice is bringing excessive force charges against me.”

  Bernice’s eyes popped wide and Merle’s jaw went slack. “You’re kidding, right?” he asked.

  “I wish I were.”

  “Unbelievable.” He shook both his head and a clenched fist. “I’d love to punch that jackass right in the nose.” He unclenched his fist, reached out, and put a supportive hand on my shoulder. “If there’s any way I can help, Tara, you let me know.”

  “Would you testify on my behalf? About what happened that night?” Merle was the one who’d summoned me when all hell had broken loose in the club. Though I’d been working undercover as his assistant, he’d clued in that there was more to me than met the eye.

  “Of course I’ll testify,” he said.

  “Thanks, Merle. I gave your name and number to my attorney. He’ll be in touch soon.”

  “Any luck finding a job yet?” Merle asked. “I’d be happy to hire you back on here as a bookkeeper if you need work.”

  “Thanks, but my boss at the IRS got me on with the audit department in Fort Worth.”

  Merle ducked his chin in acknowledgment. “Just know that if you ever need work, there will always be a place for you here.”

  I gave him a grateful hug. Unlike Scott Klein with his empty promises, I had no doubt Merle would keep his word. If I ended up with a conviction on my record, I’d take him up on the offer.

  chapter nineteen

  Hiding Out Stinks

  My cell phone bleeped as I drove home. Alicia, back from her ski trip. I put her on speaker.

  Her voice was frantic. “What’s going on? I drove to your town house and there are four television vans on the street and reporters in your yard.”

  “The grand jury voted to indict me.”

  “That’s ridiculous!”

  She’d get no argument from me. “Was Trish LeGrande at my place?”

  “Front and center.”

  Figures. What a bitch, that one. “Did you go inside?”

  “Are you crazy?” Alicia replied. “I drove on by and got the hell out of the neighborhood. You’re not inside the house, are you?”

  “No. I caught the show at Guys and Dolls. I’m on my way home.”

  “Thank goodness. What should we do?”

  “We’ll hide out at Nick’s.”

  Of course I’d have to hop the fence and sneak in my back door to feed my cats, but given that I’d been a less-than-perfect teenager, climbing a six-foot wooden fence posed little challenge. Heck, I could do it barefoot with a cup of beer in one hand and not spill a precious drop. If those reporters wanted to catch Tara Holloway, they’d have to try a little harder.

  * * *

  Fortunately, when we’d exchanged house keys Nick had also given me his spare garage door opener. I sneaked into my neighborhood by the back route and hid around the corner, out of sight of the reporters, while I activated the door. Once the interior light turned off a minute later, I zipped around the corner, up the drive, and out of sight. I heaved a sigh of relief as the door slid closed behind me.

  Once inside, I opened the front door, leaving the porch light off, and motioned to Alicia, who waited in her car at the curb. She slid quietly out of her car and scurried inside.

  “How long are you going to have to hide out here?” she asked, her eyes wide.

  I shrugged. “Until they go away. My attorney advised me not to talk to them.”

  We greeted Nutty and fed him a can of wet food for dinner. After, we went upstairs and into Nick’s spare bedroom, leaving the light off as we went to peek out the window.

  “Holy crap!”

  Alicia hadn’t been kidding. Three TV vans remained parked on the street in front of my house, while the driver of another van, the one from Trish LeGrande’s station, had the audacity to park in my driveway as if they belonged there.

  “Jerks.” I raised a middle finger at them. It was too dark and I was too far away for them to see it, but it made me feel better nonetheless.

  While Alicia told me about all the fun she’d had on her ski trip, I cooked up a couple of fried baloney sandwiches for dinner and we ate them with a handful of barbecue-flavored potato chips.

  “I’m no longer an unemployment statistic,” I told her as we took our plates to the sink. “The IRS hired me back as an auditor.”

  Her lips quivered, as if not sure whether to form a frown or a smile. “How do we feel about this?” she asked, ready to support me whichever way I went.

  Hell, I wasn’t sure whether my new job was a good thing or not, either.

  “We feel good that we will be getting a paycheck,” I replied. “But we are sad that Lu has already hired a replacement for me in Criminal Investigations.”

  Alicia cringed. “Oh no. Really?”

  “He’s moved into my office, put family photos all over my bookcase.” I pulled the engraved pen out of my purse on the counter. “On the bright side, he found my pen.”

  “Well, there’s that.…” Alicia eyed me. “You gonna be okay?”

  I shrugged. “What choice do I have?”

  After dinner, we sprawled out on Nick’s couch with Nutty between us. I scrolled through the recorded shows on Nick’s DVR. Duck Dynasty. Call of the Wildman. Hillbilly Handfishin’. Jeez. And I’d thought Brett’s golf tournaments were boring. Then again, I suppose these shows were the male version of mindless drivel, the kind of show where a person could just turn off their brain and be entertained by people who lived an entirely different lifestyle. Kind of like a guy’s equivalent of Sex and the City.

  “Thank goodness for pay-per-view,” Alicia said. We dialed up a recent movie that both of us had wanted to see but hadn’t had the time to catch.

  I peeked out the upstairs window again at 9:30, knowing Trish would have to be back at the station for her ten o’clock broadcast. Sure enough, the van from her station was gone, though the other three TV vans remained. Tenacious twerps.

  I riffled through Nick’s closet until I found a dark Dallas Mavericks hoodie. I slipped it on, crammed my keys into the pocket, and retrieved a flashlight from his garage. Quietly I exited his front door, leaving the porch light off, and slinked around the corner, doing my best to stay in the shadows.

  Uh-oh. My best may not have been good enough. The engine and lights ignited on o
ne of the vans and it pulled away from the curb, the motor roaring as it rushed my way.

  Shit!

  I broke into an all-out run, making my way onto the next block in mere seconds. I grabbed the top of a wooden privacy fence and scaled it, half-dropping, half-falling to all fours on the other side, praying I hadn’t landed in the yard where the Doberman lived. I got lucky. My efforts earned me only a vacant stare from a lazy Pomeranian lying on a padded chaise lounge, enjoying the cool evening air.

  My breaths came so fast and loud I was sure everyone in a five-mile radius could hear me panting. Through the narrow break between the fence slats I saw the van slowly make the block. The driver turned around at the end and inched their way back around the corner, probably scanning the yards for any sign of that questionable shadow they’d spotted earlier.

  Since I’d had to hop the fence sooner than intended, I was four town houses down from mine and had to scale several more fences before landing in my backyard. My efforts earned me three splinters and a stubbed toe, but at least I’d made it home.

  Inserting my key into the back door, I glanced right and left to make sure nobody was watching me over the fence. The coast seemed clear.

  I dashed inside, scaring the bejeebers out of Anne, who emitted a hiss that escalated to a howl.

  “It’s me, Annie baby,” I whispered.

  Though my words stopped the howling, the poor cat nonetheless darted off to parts unknown. I turned on the flashlight to light my way, grabbed the bag of kitty kibble from the pantry, and filled the cat bowl. Just to be safe, I retrieved an aluminum pie pan and filled that, too. Who knew when I’d be able to get back in here? If there had been any way to manage their carriers, I would’ve taken the cats down to Nick’s with me.

  As I was filling their water bowl, Henry sauntered in, his furry tail swishing, and gave me his usual look of condescension before he began crunching the food.

  I ventured upstairs next, where I cleaned out the litter box and packed a suitcase for myself. Comfy pajamas, work clothes, jeans, sweaters, shoes, toiletries, curling iron, and hair dryer. As I went to close my closet, my eyes landed on the locked trunk that contained my guns.