by Ellen Butler
“See? I’m sure there is an explanation.” Karina crossed her arms.
“I think there is one. But not the one you think.” She reached into her back pocket and pulled out the blue envelope that Karina had put in Sadira’s glovebox.
Karina arched a single brow. “What do you plan to do with that? It’s sealed and neither one of us has X-ray vision.”
“Well—officially, it wasn’t mailed through the post office.” Jillian gave Karina a look of wide-eyed innocence.
Karina’s mouth flattened. “Jilly—”
Jillian held up a finger. “And it was handed to us. Sadira’s name isn’t even on it. Just this number in the corner, T-689.”
“Are you ready to explain to Sadira why you opened an envelope she specifically told you not to?”
“She won’t know.”
“What do you mean, she won’t know?”
Jillian pointed to the tea kettle. “I watched a few YouTube videos on how to steam open a letter.”
“Cripes!” Karina threw up her hands. “What was it called, Spy School 101?”
Jillian’s mouth twisted and she held back a grin.
Karina shook her head. “I guess you really can find anything on the internet.”
Jillian fluttered the blue envelope, her gaze silently begging for her sister’s permission—or maybe it was her blessing. Karina’s jaw flexed. “Fine,” she said through gritted teeth. “But you better be sure you can seal it back up.”
A few minutes later, Jillian skillfully steamed the flap until the glue released, and pulled out a blank white card. Laying it on the counter, she opened it. Benjamin Franklin stared up at the sisters. Jillian counted ten crisp, unused bills.
Karina whistled. “A thousand bucks for driving a girl to a party?” Her sister carefully replaced the bills in the card and resealed the envelope. “You don’t look surprised. Jilly, did you already open it?”
She shook her head. “I have something else to show you.” The pair returned to the closet. Jillian walked to the back wall of shoes, which had been organized since the last time Karina saw it. She grabbed a hook at the top and pulled. The shoe rack swung away to reveal an in-wall two-by-two-foot safe with a digital keypad.
Karina didn’t speak.
“Sadira didn’t tell me about this. I found it—by accident,” Jillian said.
“And you think it’s got cash in there?”
“Yes. I also think it’s where her passport is.” She tapped the gray metal with a hot-pink polished nail.
Karina’s mouth twisted. “Why didn’t she tell you?”
“My thoughts exactly. Why not tell me where the safe was and give me the combination?”
“Because she’s got something to hide.”
“Like a bagful of diamonds and a pile of cash.” Jillian wiggled her brows with the revelation.
Karina’s jaw flexed and she pursed her lips.
“Should we tell the police? Can she be compelled to open the safe under court order?”
“I’m not sure, but I can’t tell the police anything. She still has me listed as one of her attorneys on record. Everything you’ve just shown me is privileged.”
“But—”
“But nothing. Legally, I’m required to provide Sadira the best defense. Contacting the police about a safe when I have no knowledge of what it holds and telling them my client might be hiding the diamonds the DA is searching for is paramount to malpractice. Worse, because Sadira didn’t tell you or me about this stuff, you discovered it from snooping. She could bring us both up on charges. Damnit.” Karina turned on her heel and stalked out of the closet.
Jillian found her pacing in front of the fireplace.
“I knew, the moment I saw all that damn paperwork on the counters, I should have turned around and walked out. But—you’re my sister and I’ve got to support you.” Jillian tsked and Karina continued, throwing her hands in the air, “Oh, all right, I suppose my own curiosity got the better of me. Damn, damn, damn. What a fool I am.” She rubbed her temple as she marched back and forth.
Jillian twisted the ring on her middle finger. “Then—you may not want to hear about the other thing that happened to me this morning.”
Karina’s flashing green gaze speared Jillian. “Geez! There’s more? What else happened?”
Jillian cleared her throat. “Well—I began to wonder what other courier trips Sadira had made in the past. And since I still have her car keys . . . well, I checked her GPS history.” Jillian gulped at the glare Karina sent her. “I . . . uh . . . followed her last one to a rough neighborhood in Arlington.”
“Mm-hm.”
“As I . . . uh . . . was sitting at a stop sign, suddenly this teenaged girl threw a milkshake at the windshield. Splat! Chocolate shake everywhere. I hopped out and yelled ‘What the hell,’ at her. She seemed startled to see me, and she said, ‘That’s not your car.’ I’d no idea how she knew the car wasn’t mine, but I replied, ‘You’re right, it’s a friend’s car. What’s your problem with it?’ She said, ‘I got no problem with the car. But your friend is a piece of shit.’” Jillian barreled on with her story, picking up speed as she related it. “Whoa! I figured, maybe, Sadira had given this girl a bad grade or something, and I said as much. The girl just laughed, flipped me the bird, and said, ‘Tell that red-headed bitch I’ll see her in hell.’”
During Jillian’s story, Karina’s frown turned into open-mouthed shock. “Then what happened?”
“I told her to wait, but she ran off. The car was a mess. I had to take it to the carwash.”
“Where in Arlington were you?”
Jillian named the street.
“That’s not too far from where I dropped off Ara. Hm.” Karina chewed her lip. “Was this girl sober? You know, in her right mind?”
“I’m not sure.” Jillian stared at her shoe, replaying the episode in her mind. “The entire incident was disturbing, but now that I think about it—she seemed a little whacked. Her hands were shaky, hair lanky and unkempt.”
“Drugs?”
“I suppose she could have been high on something.”
“Sadly, it’s probably the explanation.”
“No. High or not, she knew that car. And she knew I wasn’t Sadira.” Jillian stabbed the air with her pointer finger for emphasis.
Karina sighed. “Okay, run me through your timeline. When did you go for this little ride? Before or after searching Sadira’s files?”
“After.”
“When did you find the safe?”
“I found the safe when I returned. After the milkshake incident. That’s also when I took the blue envelope out of the glovebox.”
“How did you locate the safe?”
“Uh . . . by accident.” It was Jillian’s turn to pace away. “I . . . uh . . . kind of had a fit.”
“A fit?” Karina asked.
Jillian turned back to her sister, nervously playing with her earring. “Okay, okay, I grabbed a bunch of Sadira’s shoes and threw them to the floor because nothing was making sense. And . . . one of the stilettos got caught, so I jerked it hard enough to break the heel . . . and it shifted the rack.”
“Maybe you should consider changing professions and becoming a private investigator, Jilly,” Karina said drily.
Jillian crossed her arms defensively and shot back, “Oh, you’re one to talk.”
“Why I—”
“Painting. Dead senator.”
Karina snapped her mouth shut.
“Don’t forget the role I played in the painting incident. You didn’t even have the decency to warn me what you were dragging me into.” This time the hot pink nail pointed directly at her sister.
The two stared angrily at each other, waiting to see who would blink first.
Karina sighed, rubbing her temple. “Okay, this is a lot to think about. I’ve got to decide who I’m going to speak to first. There’s really nothing concrete here. Just a lot of supposition. And neither of us knows what that girl on
the street was going on about. Who’s to say she wasn’t a disgruntled former student? What I can do is contact my Silverthorne friends and find out what they know. If there is anything to back up your—your suppositions, I’ll have to tell Jessica. I won’t allow her to be sideswiped by Sadira. In the meantime, I want you to—very carefully—put away everything you took out of Sadira’s files, exactly how you found it. When you’re done, put that blue envelope back in Sadira’s glovebox. I’m going outside to make some phone calls.”
Chapter Thirteen
Back in my car, I rolled down the windows to allow the warm breeze to clear my head. Too many thoughts bing-banged around in there, not the least of which—what had I gotten Jessica’s law firm into? What if those diamonds were in the safe, and Sadira guilty? Moreover, how would I explain it all to Jessica? She would not be happy with my sister’s “investigation.” I puffed out a breath and decided to start in a different location. Scrolling through my contacts, I found the number I needed and pressed the dial button.
“Karina Cardinal, I presume.”
“Batman, how’s it going?”
“What can I do for you?” Not one for chit-chat, Rick got straight to the point.
“Have you finished your background search on Sadira?”
“It’s not complete, but we’ve got a fair amount.”
“What can you tell me?”
“Hold on.” The tip-tap of computer keys came across the lines. “Her bank accounts look normal, and she’s got a credit card which she seems to pay off every month.”
Same thing Jillian found.
Rick continued, “She’s got a hundred thousand loan on the condo.”
“What about her car?”
“Hm, I don’t see a car loan.” Rick paused as he read the dossier. “Ah, here it is, she bought the Audi almost two years ago. She had a fifty-thousand-dollar loan on it, but two months later, she paid the entire thing off. It seems above board.”
I chewed a fingernail. “Did you find out anything about her family life growing up?”
“That’s . . . where it seems to get interesting. Six years ago, Willadeene Carson legally changed her name to Sadira Manon.”
I frowned. “She changed her name?”
“Yes. She grew up in Oklahoma, went to Tackleberry High School. After high school she went to the University of Oklahoma, where she graduated with a degree in Education.”
“What about her parents?”
“Mom and Pop Carson are still alive and living in Oklahoma where Willadeene grew up. It looks like they divorced four years ago. Kordetta Carson works as a secretary for an accountant, and Jacob Carson . . . he seems to have bounced around jobs.”
“What kind of jobs?” I asked.
“Let’s see—worked for a plumber, insurance sales, sold tires, construction, pizza place, about a dozen other jobs. Lately, he works for a fertilizer plant. What’s with all the jobs?” he mumbled to himself. There was another brief pause. “Ah, this explains it. He’s been arrested multiple times for drunk and disorderly and one DUI. Willadeene worked at a local restaurant from the age of fifteen. She doesn’t seem to have much contact with her parents. No visits or phone calls from what we can see.”
“Were there any abuse charges against the father?”
“No domestic violence charges. I only see one hospital visit by Kordetta; she had her appendix out. One for Willadeene when she was seven, sprained ankle. It says here that he’s a member of AA. Sober four years,” Rick said.
“Sounds like he was a drunken loser.” The breeze blew a stray lock of hair into my eyes and I pushed it behind my ear. I thought about the uncle that left Sadira some money, and how it supposedly caused the rift between her and her parents. “What can you tell me about an uncle who died and left Sadira some money?”
“Just a sec.” More rapid tapping commenced. “Nope. I don’t see anything about a dead uncle. Kordetta has two sisters, both of whom are alive and living in Texas.”
“What about the father?”
“Only child.”
I let that sink in for a moment before responding. “So you didn’t find any sort of insurance payout to Sadira or Willadeene?”
“Not that I see here. But, like I said, the background check isn’t complete. Is there something I should be looking for?”
“I’m not sure.” I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel. Jillian had told me Sadira mentioned getting a scholarship. “How did Sadira pay for college?”
“Scholarship,” Rick affirmed.
Well, that rings true, at least.
He continued, “Although . . . it looks like she had to take out loans for living expenses. However, she paid them off in a lump sum last year.”
“How much?”
“About twenty grand.”
“That and the car seem like a lot of money.” A gray-haired couple exited Sadira’s building and I watched them get into their BMW. “Any indication where it came from?”
“None. She paid them both off in person. Cash.”
“Any idea why she changed her name?”
“None. But might have something to do with her juvenile record.”
I sat forward. “She’s got a record. What’s on it?”
“Don’t know. Juvie records are sealed on the eighteenth birthday.”
“You can’t get into it?”
“No-o.” There was hesitation in his voice, and I waited to see if it would be accompanied by an explanation. The slightest sigh whispered across the line. “Let’s say, not without calling in some favors. And even then . . .”
I remained silent.
“How important is the juvie record?” Rick asked.
I could supply no good answer. Not knowing what was on the juvie record, I had no idea of its importance. Maybe kids bullied her and she got into fights because her dad was the town drunk. Or she smoked weed, like so many teens. What would that information supply me? Or maybe she shoplifted because her dad took all the money to buy booze. That might be important to know. “I assume there is a high price to pay for sealed documents?”
“Something like that.”
“So, let’s assume, small town, the father’s the town drunk. She’s got in trouble at some point and ended up in juvie court. People talk. Makes a good reason to change your name.” I bounced the theory off Rick.
“I generally assume nothing, but your conjecture makes good sense.”
I played with my earring. “Do you see anything on her record as an adult?”
“It’s clean. Sadira Manon has nothing more than a couple of traffic violations.”
On par with what she’d told me in jail. She’d told me the truth about that, at least, so Sadira wasn’t a complete liar. “Well—thanks for the update.” I shifted and lowered the visor to block out the sinking sun. “So, who’s up in the ring with me tomorrow for my lesson?”
“Me.”
“Ha. You lost the rock, paper, scissors throw down?”
“I haven’t worked with you in a while. I want to make sure the guys are teaching you what you need to know. Trouble tends to follow you, and you need to be prepared.”
Startled and a bit taken aback by his sincere answer, I stuttered, “Well, I . . . th-thanks. That’s very thoughtful of you.”
“I take my responsibility toward you . . . all my clients very seriously,” he said gravely.
“Yes, yes, I know you do. I never thought any different. And . . . you have no idea how much I appreciate it. You saved my life, and I can’t ever repay you for that. . . .” I trailed, off unsure how to put into words how much Rick and his team meant to me.
“Also, your J-squared team is unavailable. Josh is still on assignment, and Jin’s got the night off,” he said with a hint of laughter in his voice, and I realized Rick had been yanking my chain.
“Smartass,” I muttered under my breath. “If there’s nothing else, then I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Did Jessica tell you about Tazim?” he inse
rted before I could hang up.
“Tazim? N-no. Is there a new development?”
“Tazim approached the Bulgarian.”
I blinked and threw up a hand. “I’m lost. Who’s ‘the Bulgarian?’”
“He owns a liquor store in D.C. Lots of items come and go out the back of that liquor store. He’s a known fence. From the intelligence we gathered, Tazim is getting desperate to sell a handful of diamonds.”
I drew a breath. “And did the Bulgarian make the deal?”
“Not after he found out Tazim owes money to the Russians.”
“Why should that matter?”
“Protocol.”
Totally lost, I threw up my hand again. “Protocol? Whose protocol? Gangster protocol?”
“Something like that. The Bulgarian wouldn’t touch the diamonds. Sent Tazim to Yuri. Things like that are kept in the family.” He spoke as if I should know these people.
“And Yuri is . . . ?”
“Russian fence. He owns a string of dry cleaners.”
When he didn’t elaborate, I prompted, “Did Tazim go to this Russian fence?”
“Last night, but the office was closed.”
Again, he didn’t elaborate further. I swear, sometimes getting information out of Rick was like getting a cat to poop on command. “I assume there’s more.”
“I’ve got Hernandez following him.”
“Uh-huh. And Hernandez fouuunnd . . . ?” I drawled.
“Tazim’s been on the phone most of the morning. We expect him to make the exchange soon. He has until midnight Friday to pay off the loan.”
“Wait, Friday?” I frowned in confusion. “How do you know all of this?”
“We’re good at our job.”
“Yeah, yeah, but how do you know about his phone calls and stuff?”
“We have our ways,” he replied in clipped tones.
“And what are those?”
Silence.
“You’re not going to tell me, are you?” It wouldn’t be the first time Rick didn’t bother to explain. Our conversation about Sadira had gone so well, I’d assumed we’d crossed into that realm where he felt comfortable confiding in me. Silly me.