by Ellen Butler
“What are you grinning about, Karina?” My coworker Rodrigo asked as I passed him in the hallway.
“It’s Friday, of course,” I threw over my shoulder. “And that checkered vest looks very snazzy on you.”
He looked down at his bold black and white checkered vest and black jeans. “Too much?”
“Not at all.” I paused at the door to my office.
“We’re hitting happy hour at five over at Ramparts. Coming?”
“Count me in. But only for half an hour.”
“Hot date tonight with your adorable fed?”
I laughed. “Self-defense class with my sister.” My office phone shrilled, and I scooped it up. “Karina Cardinal, how can I help you?”
“Karina, it’s Jessica.”
“Hi, Jessica. I heard through the grapevine that your case may be dismissed soon.”
“We’re not counting on anything yet.” Her voice sounded harried.
I sat down in my chair. “What’s wrong? Something up?”
“Not exactly. The way this day is going, I just have a bad feeling.”
“I’m sure it’s going to be fine. Silverthorne is the best. They’ll get everything nailed down for you to take to the DA.” I couldn’t keep the cheerfulness out of my voice.
“That’s not why I’m calling.”
“Okay, what’s up?”
“Sadira’s asked to see you.”
“Me?” I said, surprised. “Are you sure?”
“Bernard passed the message along to me. It seems there is some urgency.”
“What’s this all about?”
“I have no idea, she wouldn’t tell Bernard. And he said she seemed very agitated when she called. What?” A person in Jessica’s office must have been speaking to her. “What do you mean, it’s too late? Hang on, Karina.” The lulling strains of Beethoven wavered across the phonelines.
Well, at least they have nice hold music.
The symphonic concert ended abruptly. “Do you think you can get over there today to see her?”
“Let me check my schedule.” I tapped my cell phone, bringing up the calendar app. “I have time at ten thirty. Is that early enough?”
“It’ll have to be,” Jessica snapped.
Taken aback by her attitude, I wondered if she’d somehow found out about my sister’s stroll through Sadira’s files. I sent out a tentative feeler. “Is something wrong, Jessica?”
“I’m sorry. We just got screwed by one of our clients. I’m working on an injunction. Half my associates are ass-deep in a case of corporate espionage, the other half has now been reassigned to the newest debacle. I don’t have time for this girl’s hysterics right now. You’d be doing me a huge favor if you can go down, hold her hand, pat her on the head, and tell her everything is going to be fine.”
“No problem. I’m sure it’s nothing. She’s probably in a froth over her cat or something. Don’t worry. I can deal with it.”
“Thanks, Karina. Sorry to cut this short, but—”
“No worries. Go get ’em.” I shook my fist in the air.
The phone went dead, and I dove into my morning routine.
It was after eleven when Sadira walked into the olive-green, square room provided for lawyers and their incarcerated clients. Reinforced glass swathed one side of the wall for guards to keep an eye on things. Her pale face, less exotic without makeup and hair pulled back in a messy ponytail, remained neutral as the rotund female guard removed her handcuffs upon my request.
As soon as the guard exited, Sadira, still standing, slapped her palms against the metal table, leaned forward, and hissed, “What the hell does your sister think she’s playing at?”
Needless to say, this was not the greeting I’d been expecting. Rising so Sadira wouldn’t have the height advantage in this attack, I replied coolly, “I beg your pardon?”
“You need to tell your sister” —she bit off each word— “that she needs to stop driving my car around and asking questions that are none of her business.”
“I haven’t the foggiest idea what you’re speaking of. What questions?” I’d never give my sister away. More precisely, I needed to know what Sadira knew—who’d been talking to her, and why she wanted me to deliver such a message.
“You don’t need to know the specifics.” She pushed off the table and pivoted away. “Just deliver the message.”
Au contraire, my dear. Though I remained quiet, I stated in no-nonsense terms, “If you think for an instant I’m going to deliver a threatening message to my sister, you have another thing coming, Sadira.” She crossed her arms. Before she could speak, I shifted my stance and changed my tone to a more placating one. “Now, if you’d like to have a seat and talk about it, I’m sure I can help clear up any concerns you might have. Come on now. Sit.” I indicated the chair.
Sadira, her arms crossed defensively and with narrowed eyes, scrutinized me for a few moments before yanking out the chair and plopping herself down.
I returned to my seat. “Now, why don’t you start from the beginning.”
“Your sister has been driving my car around town. She needs to stop.” She slammed down her hand, making the metal table reverberate. “End of story.”
“I see. I will convey the message.” Sadira seemed satisfied, but I wasn’t about to let her off so easily. “How do you know she’s been driving your car around town?”
“I just know.” Her mouth flattened. “I asked her to do me one favor, and now she’s joyriding around like she owns it.”
“Um-hm. Well, I can see why that would be upsetting. As I said, I’ll speak with her. Now, you mentioned she’d been asking questions. What kinds of questions?”
Sadira stiffened. “Questions.”
“Who has she been talking to that concerns you?”
“People.”
I waited, tapping a finger against my thigh. “Can you elaborate on that?”
“No.” She picked at her chipping nail polish. “Suffice it to say, she’s been asking questions that could get people hurt.”
As soon as Sadira said the word ‘hurt,’ my cool cucumber act disappeared. My brows slammed together, and I hammered questions at her. “People? What people? Who’s getting hurt? Is it my sister? You? Has someone been threatening you? What are you involved in? Drugs? Something is going on! What is it?”
She glared mutinously at me.
I drew in a breath and made a distinct effort to channel my tranquil Buddhist Monk imitation. “Sadira, I think it would behoove you to tell me what the problem is. If someone is threatening you, I can help.”
“Ha! You have no idea what you’re talking about. No one can help me on the inside. We’re done here.” She jumped up, banged on the door, and hollered, “I’m ready to go back to my cell.”
I quickly stood, but the scraping of the chair against the concrete covered my exclamation, “Sadira, wait!”
The guard opened the door before I could say anything more. She replaced Sadira’s cuffs and led her away.
I dialed my sister’s number on the way to the car. It went to voicemail. “Call me as soon as you get this.” I sent the same message in a text and waited.
After thirteen minutes, I gave up, started my car, and rolled toward the exit. At the red stop sign that led out to the street, I paused. Glancing left and right, I debated my options—return to work? Go to my sister’s school to check on her and confirm she’d gone in today? Maybe stop by Sadira’s apartment complex, make sure her car was still there?
Checking the clock on my dash, I realized I only had twenty minutes to make it back to work for an internal meeting. Sadira’s apartment was the closest to my current location and the highway. A few minutes later, I cruised into her condo’s parking lot. With relief, I found the Audi parked in the same spot my sister left it yesterday. On my way up the highway, I phoned Jillian again, with no luck. Figuring it meant she was in class, I didn’t leave a second message.
My next dilemma for the day was decidin
g what to tell Jessica the next time we spoke. The drive back to work allowed me time to process the full ramifications of Sadira’s warning. Jillian had been asking questions. Questions about what, and to whom, was first up on the roster. All the concerns we’d dismissed yesterday after my discussion with Silverthorne came flooding back. At the heart lay a thousand dollars in a blue envelope. Something else came back to me—Jin’s warning not to dismiss my intuition. Clearly Sadira was into something dirty, but was it the diamonds?
I walked into the office meeting a few minutes late, sliding into the seat Rodrigo had saved for me.
“Where were you?” he whispered.
I shook my head.
Luckily, Hasina, my boss, arrived later than I, which gave me the few minutes I needed to gather my thoughts and organize my notes.
Hasina folded herself into a chair at the head of the table. She wore an elegant eggplant pants suit, which enhanced her olive skin tones, and her shiny dark hair was pulled into a low ponytail that hung down her back. Though she supported casual Fridays, I’d never seen our middle-aged CEO don a pair of jeans. I wondered if she owned any. I had difficulty picturing her in something as pedestrian as jeans. “Everyone, please turn your phones off,” she said, taking the lead by laying her darkened phone on the table in the center.
Meetings with Hasina always began this way. Though I appreciated her reasons for going phone-free, I’d been hoping to hear back from Jillian before now. With concealed reluctance, I shut down my cell and laid it in the growing pile.
“Karina, can you start us off? Bring me up to speed on your regulations committee meeting last week.”
Hasina must not have had any afternoon appointments; our normally efficient boss allowed the meeting to drag on for over two hours. When it finally ended, I snatched my phone from the pile and drummed my fingers against my thigh as it booted up. The rest of the staff gathered their things and exited the room. A text notification from Jillian popped up on the home screen. Before I could bring it up, Hasina sat in the chair vacated by Rodrigo. “Karina.”
I put the phone face down in my lap and gave her my attention. “Yes?”
“I wanted to congratulate you on your efforts getting the Harper-Finley Prescription Drug bill passed.” She swiveled the chair to face me.
“Thank you, but I hardly did it alone. Rodrigo was my righthand man, and I never could have done it without the public outcry and change in political climate,” I said with a wry smile.
“Be that as it may, it is a feather in the Health Alliance’s cap, and in your own.” Crossing her legs, she leaned back against the cushioned leather, laying a casual hand on the glass tabletop. “Rodrigo’s too, of course. With your success, we’ve seen a bump in donations.”
“That’s nice to hear.” Antsy to get to the text message, I felt my leg started to bounce. I had to make a purposeful effort to stop it.
“I’ll be candid. Initially, I was worried I’d made a mistake in hiring you,” she mused.
The statement didn’t surprise me. It’s never good for a member of your staff to be caught up in the middle of an FBI investigation, even worse immediately after a failed legislative initiative. If I’d been in her position, I would have considered firing me too.
She continued, “Your contacts and passion for the work kept me from replacing you. I’m glad to see my instincts paid off.”
“Uh, thank you.”
“Now that you’ve proven yourself, I look forward to seeing what the coming year brings.”
“I do too.”
She didn’t make an effort to leave.
“Was there anything else you wanted to discuss?” I asked.
“Will you be joining the staff at happy hour tonight?”
“For a little while. I have plans tonight. Why? Is there something you want me to work on this weekend?”
“Not at all.”
“Are you coming tonight?” I asked in return. The staff did the happy hour thing once or twice a month. The few times I’d gone, Hasina had not been there.
“I don’t think so.” She gave a wan half-smile. I noticed her lipstick matched her suit.
“No? Other plans?”
“My days of happy hours with the staff were over when I took this position,” she sighed, and I wondered if that was a tinge of regret I heard in her voice.
“I don’t think anyone would mind.”
“Perhaps not. I used to go all the time. But my predecessor warned me about becoming too friendly with the staff.” Hasina had been hired from within and made CEO less than a year before she hired me. Her youthful looks belied her age, somewhere in early forties, but I knew the establishment considered her young for the position. The last CEO had been in the position for over a dozen years—another woman, who retired at the age of sixty-one. D.C., though filled with high-powered, intelligent women, still had pockets of “good ol’ boy” mentality. Undoubtedly, her predecessor had to fight to get the position and prove her worth on a regular basis.
Understandingly, I nodded. “I get it. No longer your colleagues, we’re your subordinates.” She glanced away. “Can I give you a piece of advice?” I continued.
“I suppose,” she replied faintly.
“We all know you’re the boss. The staff respects you. Coming out for a single drink for half an hour, maybe buying a round, wouldn’t hurt your reputation, and it might go a long way toward increasing morale.”
Looking surprised, she said, “I wasn’t aware morale was low.”
“It’s not. You’d be banking it for the future. I think there are staff members who feel you’ve become—” I searched for a word that wouldn’t be offensive. “—stand-offish.”
“You mean an ice princess.”
My lip curved, for that’s exactly how I’d heard her described within a week of being hired. “As an outsider who’s come in since you became CEO, I can tell you, no one doubts your ability to perform the job. I think people miss Hasina, the colleague. Showing a little bit more of that side wouldn’t jeopardize your position and might make things a little less lonely for you.”
Her deep-set gaze studied me, and I wondered if I’d taken my confidences too far. “Thank you, Karina, I’ll consider it.” To my relief, she rose, and I stood with her. “Perhaps I’ll see you this evening.”
I gathered my things and followed her out the door, where we parted ways. Hot-footing it to my office where I could check my messages in peace, I was intercepted by Rodrigo.
“Hey,” he hissed, “what did Hasina want?”
“She just congratulated me—I mean, us, on the Harper-Finley bill.” I didn’t stop to chat. To my chagrin, Rodrigo trooped after me, parking himself in my guest chair.
“You were in there a while.”
“I invited her to happy hour tonight.”
Rodrigo’s eyes widened in astonishment. “Is she coming?”
I shrugged. “We’ll see.”
“I’d be surprised. She hasn’t deigned to join us since becoming CEO.”
“It’s a big job. She’s busy.”
“Or she doesn’t want to play with the peons anymore.”
“Or she’s busy,” I repeated, defending her.
Rodrigo lifted a shoulder.
I gave up with a sigh. “Is there some business you’d like to discuss, because if not, I’ve got emails to catch up on. That meeting ran longer than expected.”
“I know. It went on for-ev-er.” He rolled his eyes.
I waited in silence.
“I guess I’ll see you tonight.” He got up.
“Close the door on your way out, please.” Finally, alone in my office, I checked my text from Jillian.
What’s up?
That’s it? I pressed the little phone icon. It rang and rang until it went to voicemail. I checked the time—2:38 p.m. She should be out of school. I rang again. The third time I phoned, she answered.
“What? What is it?” she answered testily.
“Why weren’t you
picking up?”
“I’m busy.”
“Busy doing what?”
“Stuff.”
I squinted at the evasive answer. “What kind of stuff?”
“None of your business stuff.”
“Are you with Tony? Did I interrupt?”
“No. Why do you keep calling?”
Blowing at my bangs, I decided my sister wasn’t going to illuminate my curiosity with the truth, so I tried a different tack. “Jillian, I had an interesting meeting with Sadira this morning. Someone has threatened her.”
“Oh? Hold on a sec.” In the background I heard her say, “Hi, do you know this girl? Are you sure? I think she lives around here. No? Okay.” Her voice came back full volume. “Now, what’s going on with Sadira? What did she do?”
“It’s apparently something you’ve done. She told me to tell you to, and I quote, ‘stop asking questions.’”
No response.
A prickle of unease skittered across my shoulders. “Jillian, where are you?” I asked with slow deliberation.
“Around.”
Alarm bells went off in my head. “Did you go back to that neighborhood where the girl threw the milkshake at you?”
“What if I did?”
“Have you been there all day?”
“No, I went to work today.”
“What about last night?”
Silence.
“Jillian!” I exclaimed with frustration.
“What?!”
“Were you there asking people about that girl last night? Don’t lie to me, this is important.”
“So what if I was? I snapped a photo of her. I’m worried about her. I think she might be caught up in something bad. Maybe I can help.”
Oh, my bleeding-heart sister. “Jillian, whatever you’re doing is putting Sadira, and probably you, in danger.”
“I don’t see how,” she said defensively.
“Don’t play dumb. That neighborhood is sketchy. You—one of the whitest girls on the planet—will stick out like a sore thumb. On top of that, you’re asking questions about one of their own. You’re never going to get anything out of anyone. Now listen to me—”