by Dana Killion
“And how did you react?” I asked, my voice soft and measured. She pulled her legs up underneath her and wrapped her arms around herself, responding to the memory.
“I swatted him away. Told him to cut it out.”
“Did he stop?” I asked, Cai’s revelation of her assault fresh in my mind.
“For a while, maybe a couple weeks. Then one day I was working late. Everyone else had gone home, or so I thought. I was sorting through old documents in the conference room, trying to get caught up on a backlog. I had all these papers and files stacked on the conference room table. I never heard him come in. The next thing I knew he was behind me, pushing me forward on the table, grinding his pelvis into me.”
“What happened from there?” I asked, feeling her anxiety, my own body tensing. Her face had taken on a masklike quality as she spoke, as if shutting off emotion was the only way to get through the telling.
“I managed to turn around and jab my elbow into his throat. It gave me enough time to push his hands off me and get the hell out of there.”
“Did you report it to anyone?”
“Who would I tell? The cops? What would they do? I took a couple days off. Hoping to avoid him, hoping that it was some moment of insanity and that bruising his windpipe would shock him into reality and make him understand that I wasn’t interested.”
“How did he respond?”
She lifted her eyes up from the spot on the floor she’d been staring at and looked at me directly. “That’s when he started threatening me. As you know from the trial, I’d made a few of the financial transfers for him, as I often did. They were into his personal accounts, but I didn’t think anything of it at the time. When he attacked me, I was just beginning to have suspicions that he was stealing from Mr. Sikora, but I hadn’t connected everything. Maybe he knew I was figuring it out, I’m not sure, but he told me that if I didn’t stay quiet about the attack, he would make it look like I was stealing from the firm. Even fabricate a paper trail, if he had to.”
“And you believed him?”
“Damn right I did. After that, I kept quiet, and Gavin kept his hands to himself. What he didn’t know was that I had started making copies of everything. Mr. Sikora passed away not long after, so I felt I could speak freely with his son and then made a deal with the prosecutor to turn over the evidence. But you knew that part.”
“Why didn’t you speak about the sexual assault at trial?”
“Because it would look like retaliation. He attacked me, so I wanted revenge, blah, blah, blah. You know how that goes. Anyway, I didn’t stay quiet because I cared that anyone knew Gavin had attacked me. What I cared about was the man going to jail for stealing, and I didn’t want to muddy the waters with other things.”
“Did Elyse ever know?” The surveillance software popped back into my mind.
“She called me. Asked me if I’d meet with her attorney, give a deposition about the assault. I’m not sure of the timing, but this must have been when she was just starting divorce proceedings. The thing is, I don’t know how she knew about the attack. I’ve never told anyone until today.”
18
And I thought my marriage had been complicated.
Jocelyn’s revelation weighed on me as I returned to the office. In addition to being an embezzler, Gavin Wright was also a sexual predator and a hot-headed prick. No wonder his wife was spying on him. But how had Elyse known of the assault? If she figured out how to track his digital communications, it was possible she’d figured out a way to listen in at the office as well. I didn’t know enough about the possibilities of the technology to answer that.
But Michael and Janek would need to know. Wisely, Jocelyn had consented to my request, giving me permission to share the details of the assault with them. Back in my office, I picked up the phone and dialed Michael.
“Calling to gloat over what a waste of time talking to Julian Metz is?” he asked, chuckling on the other end of the phone.
“No one could accuse that man of not being a natural salesman. I guess that means he didn’t lose any of his hot air between our conversations.”
“To what do I owe the honor of the phone call? Dinner tonight, perhaps?” The expectation in his voice punched my guilt button.
“Actually, I was calling because I had information on the case for you. A little tidbit about your buddy Gavin Wright.”
“You have my full attention.”
“I spoke to Jocelyn Lawrence, Wright’s former administrative assistant. As you probably know, she’s basically the one responsible for exposing the embezzlement. Well, it turns out there’s some history there that didn’t make it into the court proceedings.”
“What happened?”
“Turns out that in addition to being a thief, Gavin committed sexual assault. He tried to force himself on Jocelyn one night in the office. After she fought him off, he threatened to falsify records to make her look guilty of financial shenanigans if she exposed him. Basically, he blackmailed her.”
“Why didn’t she talk?”
“Do you have to ask?” Although I knew it was a standard response, it always stunned me when men simplified assault to such black-and-white terms. “We’ve both seen how women are treated when they bring forward accusations of assault without proof. It’s her word against his, and the man’s is always the voice that gets listened to—while she gets ripped to shreds, I might add.”
I could hear myself moving into soapbox territory, but Michael wasn’t being judgmental with his question.
“She also didn’t want to muddy the waters on the embezzlement charges,” I said. “Didn’t want anyone to think this was fabricated or retaliatory. So she kept quiet. She reasoned that it was better to keep the focus on the primary issue.”
“I know it happens, but it never sits right with me when women feel no one believes them.”
“Well, hopefully that’ll change, the more men who are jackasses get prosecuted. And more guys in your position help make that happen. Anyway, she gave me the authorization to speak to you about it. Use it as you will. I don’t know if it plays into Elyse Wright’s murder case directly, but as a prosecutor, I would have wanted to know about prior history of aggression toward women.”
“Absolutely. I wonder if Wright’s society buddies have any clue what a creep he is?”
“Would they care if they did know?”
“Good question. I guess that’s reality.”
“So, when am I going to get copies of the emails between Wright and the hit man? I did just volunteer information.”
“It’s not volunteering if there’s a price attached. You’ll get the emails when and if CPD releases them, just like any other journalist.”
His voice was softer than his words, so I didn’t give him a hard time. There were usually other ways to get what I needed, with a little persistence, if the direct method wasn’t going to work.
“Have you gotten any closer to identifying him?” I asked, trying another tack.
“The situation remains under investigation, but thanks for the tip.”
“More stonewalling. Interesting. Janek must be within earshot.”
He laughed. “So what about my earlier question—dinner?”
Our little dance continued. Not that I was mad at him. A little verbal jousting was appropriate under the circumstances.
“I need to see how the rest of my afternoon plays out. Can I get back to you later?”
“Okay, send me a text. We can do something simple, like takeout, if you want.”
I went back to my notes from the trial, wanting to review Jocelyn’s testimony. I understood her rationale for keeping the assault out of the proceedings, but as a former prosecutor, it left me uncomfortable. I could only imagine what the legal teams would be up against given the complications of overlapping legal actions. Embezzlement, conspiracy to commit murder, and divorce. Divorce was off the table, but there were several attorneys who would be thrilled with their billing hours despite the indigestion these new
wrinkles caused.
“What the hell is up with you and Molina?”
I looked up to see Borkowski standing in the door of my office, his brows scrunched and his mouth a thin, hard line. Shit. Had he found out about my history with Ryan?
“What are you talking about?” I said, deciding on the “play innocent” strategy. No sense fessing up before I knew what I was being accused of.
“What is your problem over meeting with him? I know you don’t want to do this, but dammit, throwing obstacles in the path and avoiding him doesn’t help any of us. So get over it and just do what you’re supposed to do already. An hour of your time so the man can do his job is not an imposition. I don’t want to hear one more time that you’ve blown him off. Meet with the guy, answers his questions, and move on. In other words, man up. I’m done with this teenage temper tantrum.”
I opened my mouth, intending to correct the record and remind Borkowski of the story I was working, but anything I said would just prove his point.
“I’ll take care of it.”
Borkowski shot me a scowl, lingering a moment as if expecting a rebuttal before leaving my office. I picked up my phone, feeling like the thirteen-year-old I’d been accused of modeling, and responded to Ryan’s text: When would you like to meet?
“What did you do to piss off Borkowski? The way he stormed out of here, I expected one of you would need medical attention.” Brynn walked into my office and parked herself in the chair opposite mine.
“You know how he is, always finding new ways to show his appreciation for the work I do.”
“You mean you’re in the doghouse.” She shook her head and raised a brow. “I found something I thought you’d want to see.” She handed me a printout. “It’s a screenshot of something originally posted on the Jennus Creative Twitter account.”
I looked at the image and felt my breath catch. Elyse Wright’s professional headshot with a bull’s-eye overlaid. “This was on their Twitter feed?”
“It was at some point. No surprise that they wiped the post, but at least for some period of time, it was live for the world to see. They were sloppy when they deleted it, probably left it to some intern to take care of. I found it in the cache. I’ll need to piece a few more things together to see if I can figure out how long it was up and whether this Twitter handle is still active. Creeps like this just change their profile names to bury crap when they’re outed. Anyway, under the circumstances, I figured you’d want to see it immediately.”
“Send me the digital version. I’m going to need to pass this on to CPD. Maybe Gavin Wright wasn’t the only one threatening his wife?”
“Usually guys like this are all talk, no action.” She shrugged as if having personal experience. “However, since the woman’s just been murdered, someone with subpoena power will want to look into this Twitter handle.”
“Thanks, Brynn. Nicely done.”
A response from Ryan popped up on my screen as Brynn left my office. Dinner. 7 o’clock. Fig and Olive. Shit. I grit my teeth and sent back, See you tonight. So much for dinner with Michael.
I was back in front of Victor’s office building. I knew I was on the verge of abusing our relationship, but no one outside of the marriage between Gavin and Elyse Wright knew the complexities better than the divorce attorney who was charged with ending their ordeal. Divorce had a way of turning over every little stone full of ugly. Particularly when the uncoupling was as contentious as I imagined this one was. Victor was also my secret weapon. He’d share information with me that the police might not think to pursue.
The building was a warren of bland, carpeted hallways, with dated wallpaper and fluorescent lighting that made everyone look jaundiced. It seemed appropriate mood lighting, given the number of law firms. As I moved toward the office, I heard voices around the corner ahead of me. A man chastising someone I assumed to be his wife for showing up unannounced. Marital tension didn’t strike me as odd considering where I was; what did strike a chord was his patronizing tone. The couple was choosing to have their dispute in what they knew was a public hallway, so I hesitated for only a second before continuing around the corner.
As I came into view, both heads turned in my direction, suspending the quarrel, at least for the moment. I stood face-to-face with Marcus Bennett, the paralegal from Victor’s office. Red faced and sweaty, he towered over the woman receiving the brunt of his anger. She was average in size but looked diminutive compared to her husband. But the stranger thing was her wardrobe.
She looked straight out of central casting for some 1950s Leave It to Beaver movie. A long-sleeved, white cotton blouse with a Peter Pan collar and a strand of pearls. A floral circle skirt that fell to mid-calf. Nylon stockings, the real kind, not some fun fashion statement. Sensible pumps. Her chin-length brown hair was tucked behind her ears with a headband. She held a dark coat in her arms and stood facing him, eyes now downcast.
I nodded at Bennett and continued toward the law office. As the saying went, there was someone for everyone, but theirs was a relationship I had no interest in analyzing.
“Hi, Nancy. I need to see Victor again.”
“I’ll see if he is free.”
After a few moments he appeared in the reception area. “I’m starting to think I need to ask you for a retainer,” he said, only half joking. “Come on.” He nodded, and I followed him to the small conference room.
“What now?” Victor asked as we both took a seat.
“I know I’m being a pest, but I’m sure you want to find Elyse’s killer even more than I do.”
“I do, but we have things to do for paying customers.” He smiled, then reached over and squeezed my hand. “Go ahead. I know you’re just doing your job.”
“Aside from the embezzlement charges, were there other issues in the marriage?” I asked, leaning my elbows on the table. If Elyse had known about her husband’s attack on Jocelyn, I found it hard to imagine she hadn’t told Victor. I was also still stuck on the timing.
“Is there a marriage that doesn’t have issues?” He laughed. “That’s what keeps people like me in business. Did you have something specific in mind? I know you’re not just looking for dirt.”
“Given the charges against Gavin, I assumed their financial situation was put under a magnifying glass. Was there anything unusual? Any particular point of contention financially outside of Gavin’s embezzlement?”
“It wasn’t terribly complicated. Elyse came into the marriage with substantial assets, and there was a prenup. The family home belonged to Elyse, so defining marital assets was fairly uncomplicated, as these things go. Not that Gavin was in much of a position to fight it.”
“So money could have been a motive?”
He paused. “For her death? I hadn’t gone there yet. But yes, as you know, those assets will now pass to Gavin. She had no living family.”
Unfortunately, that was a subject I had firsthand knowledge of, but if Gavin were after money, money he couldn’t access because it was excluded as premarital assets, why wouldn’t he have done the deed before she filed? Killing her after only highlighted the big red bull’s-eye a prosecutor would place on his chest.
“That inheritance doesn’t help him much if he spends the rest of his life in jail. He’d need to be pretty certain he was going to clear the embezzlement charges,” I said. Gavin was arrogant enough to underestimate his legal jeopardy, but why chance it? Their financial situation added an interesting element to the case, but the timing still didn’t sit well, and I didn’t have an explanation for why Elyse might have been spying on her husband.
“I assume you brought in your forensic accountant. Were there any unusual expenditures as you looked at Gavin’s finances?”
“If you mean, did we see any evidence of the embezzled monies in his personal assets, no, we did not. He’d firewalled that pretty well in secret accounts. In terms of other expenses, nothing is coming to mind, but let me get Marcus in here. He got a little deeper into the weeds than I did.
”
Victor reached for the phone and called Bennett into the conference room while I wondered if he was done treating his wife like an eight-year-old.
“Were there any suspicions of infidelity?” I asked while we waited. My mind was wrapped around the idea that Elyse did not trust her husband. Something had triggered that, something outside of the testimony she’d given, was my guess. May as well start with the obvious.
“Nothing that Elyse indicated. Of course, that’s always one of the first things we talk about. We brought in a private investigator, but our focus was financial. We wanted to know where his assets were hidden.”
Bennett came into the room, a legal pad in hand. He looked at me sheepishly, clearly embarrassed that I had walked in on his argument with his wife. Given the comments I’d heard and the manner in which he’d spoken to his wife, my impression of him had moved from neutral to boy-was-he-an-ass. I knew it wasn’t my place to be judgmental over how people conducted their relationships, but I couldn’t stomach the demeaning sexism and outright male superiority I’d heard come out of his mouth. To see that tolerated made me nauseous and angry.
“Marcus, Ms. Kellner has questions about the Elyse Wright case. Since you were the liaison with our forensic accountant, I thought it best that you answer her questions.”
“Happy to, sir.”
Bennett took a seat, settling his squishy body into the chair. He looked at me, pen poised over the legal pad, and sniffed, giving me the impression he thought he was here to take notes. It had been interesting to see him behave so aggressively with his wife. It was a side I hadn’t seen. My encounters with him in the past had suggested a mild-mannered, kind of dweebie guy. Maybe that was one of the reasons he’d chosen such a mousy mate? A way for him to feel in charge of something when he wasn’t in other aspects of his life. I wondered if being a paralegal had been a choice or a fallback when he didn’t pass the bar and now had a chip on his shoulder.
“Let’s start with the private investigator,” I said. “I understand from Victor that a private investigator had been hired to look at any financial entanglements between Gavin’s embezzled funds and family money, is that correct? And that no obvious entanglements were visible. Is that also correct?”