by Ellen Butler
My sister wiped a drip of BBQ sauce off her mouth with a napkin. “So, what? He paid off his debts in diamonds?”
“Either that, or he’s trying to sell them on the black market for cash to pay it off.”
I chewed a bite of my salmon steak and observed Misty. “Why are you telling us all of this?”
Misty laid down her hamburger and wiped her fingers and mouth with the napkin before speaking. “Because it could have been me in Sadira’s shoes. If I’d been the one to close that night, he would have blamed me. It was dumb luck that Monika broke protocol and gave Sadira her code. Tazim found his scapegoat.”
“Why don’t you tell the police?”
“I told you, it’s all just a guess. I don’t have any proof. And I need this job. If I tell the police and I’m wrong—Tazim will fire me. I’m an assistant manager. With Monika gone, Tazim will have to make me a manager.” She muttered the last part so quietly I almost missed it.
“Yeah, but knowing what you think you know” —Jillian pointed her fork at Misty— “aren’t you worried that Tazim will do the same to you if he gets in debt again?”
Misty shook her head. “I don’t think he’d be stupid enough to pull off the same stunt twice. I also think that Vijay is no longer going to be a silent partner. On his way out, he said he’d see me tomorrow. If he’s around, I definitely want to keep working there.”
“You think he’ll put Tazim on the straight and narrow?” Jillian asked.
“I don’t know. But—Vijay’s hot too.” Misty licked her lips and grinned. “He’s over six feet tall, dark hair, mahogany skin with these lashes . . . oh so thick. His nose is kind of crooked, but who cares? If he’s going to be in the shop more often, it’ll be worth it to stay.”
“Is he married?”
Misty glanced at us from beneath her mascaraed lashes. “He doesn’t wear a wedding ring if he is.”
“And, of course, the money’s good,” Jillian piped in.
Misty gave a half shrug. “Eh, could be worse.”
“Sadira made a lot of money,” I commented drily.
“I don’t know about that. She could have made more if she’d picked up additional shifts.”
“But with the commissions she did well,” Jillian said enviously.
Misty’s brows drew down. “Commission? She didn’t make commission on her sales.”
My sister frowned in confusion. “She didn’t?”
“Nope. Only store managers make commission. Even as an assistant manager, I don’t make a commission. If we sell a certain amount, I get a bonus at the end of the month. But it’s nothing to write home about. Especially after the government gets their cut.”
“But—”
I kicked Jillian beneath the table to shut her up.
“Ow!” she cried, and rubbed her shin.
“Sorry,” I muttered. “You were saying you thought Vijay will be taking on a larger role?”
Misty wiped burger juice off her chin with a napkin. “I hope so.”
“Do you think he’ll look into Tazim?”
“Dunno.” Misty shrugged and took a deep pull on her beer. “Maybe. Or maybe he’ll be content to get the insurance pay out.”
“They won’t get paid until there’s been a thorough investigation,” I stated drily.
“Well, if Sadira, does have the diamonds, they’re bound to find them. Right?” Misty’s blue eyes widened. “If it’s Tazim . . .” She cocked her head and left the comment hanging.
The money is as good as gone. Nobody said the words out loud, but we all thought it.
Eric Clapton played in the background as I drove Jillian back to her apartment. Both of us remained quiet as the events of the day spun around in my head. Tazim was certainly a suspect. And if Misty was correct, he had a motive for stealing his own merchandise.
“Why do you think Sadira lied to me?” Jillian broke the peace.
“I’ve been wondering that myself. When did she tell you that she got a commission on her sales?”
“Yesterday. Right after the big fashion show. I asked about her wages at the jewelry store. I thought I might want to work there.”
“I think that’s a hard ‘no.’”
Jillian snorted. “Yeah, now it is.”
“So, where is she getting her money? And if she lied to you about the commission—”
“What else is she lying about?” My sister completed my thought.
“Do you think . . . nah.”
“What? Throw it out there.”
I chewed my lip. “Could she and Tazim be . . . working together?”
Jillian didn’t respond. Presently another car’s headlights lit up the windshield, and I saw my sister’s face pulled in concentration.
“Look, I don’t know this woman at all,” I said. “You’ve been working with her for how many years?”
“Let me see.” She tapped her knee, silently counting. “Three.”
“You met Tazim. Was there an undercurrent between the two of them? Do you think she could have pulled this off?”
Jillian pinched her lip in thought. “Two hours ago, I would have answered with a resounding ‘no.’ But, two hours ago, I didn’t know my friend had lied to me about where her money comes from.”
“So, do you think they’re . . . romantically involved?”
“No-o.” Her hair slid over her shoulder as she shook her head. “I have a real problem imagining she and Tazim are in on something together. And I can’t imagine she’d spend a couple of nights in jail for him. Not to mention, risk her teaching position.”
“Maybe she’s over her head in credit card debt and needs the cash.” I voiced the thought that’d been on my mind ever since I saw her closet.
“That was my initial thought as well.”
I rolled to a stop at a red light. “If she didn’t steal the diamonds, credit cards could be our answer. Unless she had a rich uncle die and leave her a bunch of money.”
“Hm,” was the limited response Jillian gave.
Tomorrow was Monday. I was almost glad I had work to do which would take my mind off the Sadira Diamond Heist. Almost.
Chapter Six
Monday morning dawned about as well as Monday mornings do. There is not enough coffee in the world to make me excited about getting up at the crack-o-dark to go anywhere on Monday morning. Don’t get me wrong, I love my job as a lobbyist for National Health Advocacy Alliance, or NHAA, but this morning I had a seven o’clock. professional development breakfast to attend. Which meant full makeup, hair, suit, and heels had to be in place by a quarter after six so I could roll into D.C. metro traffic to get to the venue on time. I headed out of my Alexandria condo complex’s parking lot and found said traffic fifty feet down the road.
Note to self, do not agree to attend any event before nine—a sensible if not unreasonable thought. Sucking down a large gulp of Colombian roast nectar of the gods out of a to-go mug, I crawled along with the rest of the commuting grunts.
Since I have to sit in traffic, I might as well get some work done. Tucking my Bluetooth earbud in, I stated clearly, “Call Jessica, office.” I didn’t expect her to be in the office, especially since she’d spent her weekend in the Hamptons, but if I figured I’d get the ball rolling and leave a message.
She picked up on the fourth ring. “Hello?”
“Jessica? It’s Karina. I—I didn’t expect you to be in yet.”
“I’m not. My work phone is forwarded to my cell.”
“I didn’t wake you, did I?”
“No, I’m up. I’ve got a seven thirty flight out of Islip. What’s going on? You’re not in jail, are you?”
“Ha-ha,” I said wryly, “no. I wanted to tell you about an interesting conversation Jillian and I had with one of Sadira’s coworkers last night.” I went on to describe our meeting with Misty and her allegations about Tazim. “And that’s it.” I waited for a response. “Jessica, are you still there?”
A windy sigh met my question.
/> I cringed. “Sorry to hit you with it so early. It—it could be nothing, but I thought you ought to know.”
“I do. I’ve got an investigator I can put on it.”
“Let him know that Misty will not want to talk to him in or around the store.”
“Noted.”
“Who are you sending to the arraignment?” I moved into the lane on the right and my speed went from snail to turtle.
“Bernard Theodore Evans the third . . . Esquire,” Jessica drawled in a snooty sort of accent.
“Wow, that sounds . . .”
“Pretentious? He is. But, he’s excellent with the details, well-spoken in court, and one of my best up-and-coming associates. He’ll probably make partner in the next few years.” Jessica’s voice held a definite edge of irritation.
“Sounds like Sadira is in good hands.”
“She is.”
I waited because it felt like Jessica had more to say.
“Karina, would I be wasting my breath if I told you, in the politest of ways, to butt out?”
“Uh—”
“I don’t know where this case is going to lead, but it seems any time you’re involved, things get—”
“A little hairy?”
“Precisely.”
“Got it. Honestly, my sister dragged me into this, and the more I learn about Sadira, the more I want her to get away from whatever this is,” I assured Jessica.
“This is either—she did it, in which case, your meddling could put you in a bad position and your sister on the stand to testify for the prosecution. Or she didn’t, and your meddling could put you in the crosshairs of something more dangerous.”
“Oh, I don’t think we’re dealing with criminal masterminds here,” I scoffed.
“Karina, if your friend Misty is right, they broke Tazim’s arm.” Her tone possessed a warning note.
“Okay, okay. I get it. I’m out.” Even though she couldn’t see me, I held up a hand in surrender.
“And take your sister with you.”
I couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped. “Very well, I’ll take Jillian with me.”
“I’ve got to run. We’ll talk later.” She hung up, and I took a left onto a street with traffic moving at the speed of an old basset hound on his way to bed.
I RETURNED TO MY WORKPLACE close to eleven. Rodrigo, my colleague, joined me as I strode down the hall toward my office. He must not have had any meetings on the Hill today, because he wasn’t wearing one of his snazzy suits. Instead he wore a pair of gray slacks, a lavender dress shirt with a black vest, and no tie. The shirt complemented his young, dark Puerto Rican skin tones. He greeted me with, “You missed the morning meeting.”
“I know. Professional development seminar. What did I miss?” We reached my triangular-shaped office space and I pulled the laptop out of my computer bag.
Rodrigo placed a handful of newspapers on my desk with The Washington Post on top. “Budget cuts. We have to share newspapers now. I offered to buddy up with you. Since you weren’t in, I took first crack at them. I’ve highlighted a number of articles you’ll probably want to read.”
“Seriously? We can’t afford newspapers for everyone who needs them in the office?” I shuffled through the stack.
“Apparently, too many people who don’t need them were getting subscriptions. We were dumping piles of papers every day. Hasina has decided this isn’t just a budget issue, but also an environmental one as well. The company will pay for more online subscriptions.”
“I already have all the online subscriptions that I need, and while I do understand the environmental issues . . . Actually—” I flipped open the New York Times. Rodrigo had folded down the top corner and outlined in pink highlighter an article about the closing of a large hospital conglomerate in the Midwest. “—this is great. If you’re going to do this, you can have first crack at them every morning.”
“Sure thing, boss lady.” He snapped a haughty salute.
“I’m not your boss,” I responded mildly and changed topic. “How is Alphonse doing?”
Alphonse was Rodrigo’s partner and a head chef at a five-star French restaurant in D.C. Last week he woke at four in the morning with lower stomach pain. Rodrigo rushed him to the hospital where tests revealed appendicitis, which led to an emergency appendectomy.
“He’s got a doctor’s appointment today, and I sincerely hope the doc clears him to return to work because he’s becoming a pain in my ass. I’ve practically had to chain him to the plumbing to keep him away from the restaurant,” Rodrigo complained.
“It’s his baby. You’d do the same thing.”
“No, I wouldn’t. I’d read and watch trashy reality cable shows.”
I arched a single disbelieving brow.
“What? I would.” He sniffed and crossed his arms.
“Give him my best, will you?” My desk phone rang, and Rodrigo retreated to his cubicle.
The call turned out to be a telemarketer, and, after hanging up, I sorted through the newspapers. I finished perusing the Wall Street Journal, then pulled The Washington Post to the top of the pile. The article popped out at me from the front page of the Metro section. The photo they used must have come from a social media account instead of the police mugshot. That and the fact it was below the fold were the only silver linings I could identify. The headline alone would doom Sadira—“Diamond Theft! Fairfax County Teacher Arrested.” The article went on to describe the facts of the case, including information that the county school superintendent had put her on leave pending further investigation. Jessica’s firm, speaking on their client’s behalf, provided a “no comment,” to the press.
I wondered if Jillian had seen the piece. Now, more than ever, it would be prudent to take Jessica’s directive and stay out of it. I made a note on my calendar to contact Jillian after school to bring her up to date on the current situation.
Chapter Seven
JILLIAN
School ended at 2:20 p.m. Jillian bolted to her car and headed out of the parking lot by three thirty. Sadira hadn’t answered any of the texts Jillian sent today and, not knowing what time the arraignment would be, she supposed either Sadira was still waiting or she’d already been released.
Jillian decided to dial her sister’s office.
“Hello,” Karina answered.
“Hey, it’s me. Have you heard anything about Sadira’s arraignment today? Do you know if she’s out?”
“I haven’t. I spoke with Jessica this morning and she’s put her best associate on the job.”
“Well, Sadira hasn’t returned any of my texts or calls.” Jillian pulled to a stop behind a school bus releasing its cargo. “I’m headed over to her place to make sure she’s not standing outside.”
“I’m sure the apartment’s superintendent could let her in. It’s also possible that she is not yet out. There will be processing to get through after she’s arraigned. She’ll need to fill out the paperwork for the lawyer, the bondsman, probably the court system.”
“So she’s probably still at the courthouse?”
“That would be my guess.”
The opposite lane showed a surprising break in traffic, the bus rolled on, and Jillian wheeled her sedan around in a sharp U-turn. “Okay, I’ll head there.”
“Jillian, wait. There are a couple of things I need to tell you. I’m assuming you didn’t see the paper this morning?”
“I don’t get the paper anymore. Why?”
Her sister sighed. “There’s an article in the Metro section about Sadira’s arrest.”
“Oh. My. God.” Jillian paused between each syllable. “That’s horrible.”
“It is. But not unexpected. It’s a juicy story. I wouldn’t be surprised if the local TV news stations pick it up,” Karina explained.
“How terrible for Sadira.”
“That’s not the only thing, I told Jessica about our little sleuthing trip yesterday, and although she was appreciative of the information we provided, sh
e asked us to take a step back from our— well, meddling, as she put it.”
“But—”
“Listen.” Karina cut her off. “Jessica said she’d put one of her own investigators on the case to find out if Misty’s theory held water.”
“So you don’t think I should go to the courthouse to show my friend some moral support?” Jillian asked rather snippily.
“No, that’s not at all what I mean. I know this girl is your friend, and you want to help. However, the Cagney and Lacey routine is over. If we stumbled across the wrong information, we could end up making things worse for Sadira,” Karina cautioned.
“Fine,” Jillian sighed. “I didn’t have any more leads for us to follow anyway.”
“Good. If I were you, I’d stay out of her business at work as well. The paper said she’d been put on leave pending investigation. I’m not sure what this arrest will mean for her job in the long run—”
“Nothing good. You can believe that.”
“So, it might be better if you didn’t gossip with your other coworkers about your part in it.”
“I don’t gossip,” Jillian bleated defensively.
Karina let the silence hang between them.
“Okay, okay,” Jillian groused. “Mum’s the word. I know nothing.”
“Good girl.”
Jillian gave a sarcastic snort. “Whatever. I’ll let you know what I find at the courthouse.”
“I’ll be waiting with bated breath,” Karina responded in acerbic tones before hanging up.
Jillian’s watch read quarter past four by the time she found the correct courtroom. Entering through the open door, she found the compact chamber relatively quiet. A few reporters were scattered through the gallery, and on her left, four suited, lawyerly-looking folks sat in the front two rows, surrounded by boxes of file folders. The judge, a balding man in his black robe, a pair of glasses sitting on his nose, stared down, reading the documents in front of him.
At the back corner, Jillian caught a glimpse of Sadira’s flame red hair as a bailiff escorted her out of the courtroom in handcuffs. Between the defense and prosecution tables, a sharply dressed lawyer of average height with thinning sandy hair spoke in quick undertones to another lawyer, whom Jillian assumed was the district attorney. She wore a black suit that hung off her tall, thin figure, as if she’d recently lost weight and hadn’t taken time to have it properly tailored. The DA shook her head and gave her counterpart a stern glare before returning to the mound of paperwork at her table. The other lawyer pushed through the swinging door into the gallery area as the bailiff called the next case.