Dark Moon, page 19
“So there is a distinct possibility she slept with Michael Reed?” Jim asked.
“Absolutely, and I know the person who can tell you if she did. She’s Tara’s ex-secretary, Marilyn Mosell. Tara underpaid and abused her for years, and finally Marilyn got sick of it and quit. She works for a friend of mine, Bret Williams. His office is at 600 Broadway. You’ve got time to stop by this afternoon, if you want. I’ll call and let her know you’re coming.”
* * *
First Friday in November, 2013, Alexa’s cottage, Pacific Beach
Sarah arrived at Alexa’s cottage at five p.m., but there was no sign of Jim. She had hoped he would be right behind her, but apparently his interview with Marilyn Mosell was taking longer than anticipated. Sarah had gone ahead to make sure someone checked on Alexa at the usual time.
She sat in the drive for a few minutes studying the solemn eyes of the little house and hoping against hope Jim’s Range Rover would pull in. But it didn’t, so she got out and headed up to the minuscule front porch where she knocked.
Alexa’s lovely blue eyes clouded with disappointment the moment she realized Jim wasn’t there. Sarah stepped inside and smelled a rich stew simmering on the stove.
“That smells delicious.”
“Coq au vin. I told Jim it was my turn to cook for him,” Alexa smiled. “You should stay for supper.”
“No, I can’t. I have plans later,” she lied smoothly. “We have some news to share, and then I have to meet a friend for a drink.”
Alexa didn’t look disappointed by her excuse.
“Can I pour you a glass of wine while we wait?”
“Sure. How are you feeling?”
“Better all the time. I seem to tire out pretty easily though. I took a nap today because I knew I wanted to make dinner tonight.”
“Well, keep resting. Those days in trial are going to be long and grueling. You’ll need all your strength.”
Alexa nodded. “I know.”
Suddenly a key scratched in the lock, and the front door opened. Jim came in grinning, and Alexa brightened.
“I’ve got some really interesting news.”
They gathered in the living room with glasses of wine and a fruit and cheese plate Alexa had arranged. She sat next to Jim on the sofa while Sarah took the shabby chair opposite. They look like they belong together, Sarah thought as Jim began to run down the details of Michael’s bribes to Ronald Brigman. As he talked, an odd look came over Alexa’s face.
“Is something wrong?” Sarah asked.
“No, nothing’s wrong. But it’s starting to come back to me. That night. June 2.”
“What do you remember?” Sarah asked.
“I remember Michael picked up the children at five, and they were upset because they didn’t want to go. He made a scene. I cried after that for a long time because it all seemed so hopeless. Then around eight-thirty my phone rang, and it was Dr. Brigman. He said I had to be at his house by nine if I ever wanted to see my children again.
“I just knew it was some kind of set-up to take away the little bit of time I had left with them. I was terrified. I called Bob to ask what to do, but he had his cell turned off. Finally I decided I’d better go.”
“What happened when you got there?” Sarah had pulled a pad out of her purse and began to jot down notes as she concentrated on Alexa’s answer.
“At first I thought he was going to make a sexual come-on. He mentioned he knew the children were with Michael and offered me a drink. I said no, and he started to get upset.”
“What did you do?”
“I said, ok, a glass of wine and then just held it without drinking anything. I was just so sure he was setting me up. I knew I needed to be very careful.”
“What happened next?”
“He insisted we sit down on his couch. I got as far away from him as I could. He noticed and laughed at me. He said, ‘Don’t worry. You aren’t my type. I don’t like smart women.’”
“And then?”
“He told me Michael was paying him four thousand a month for the children. He said Tara set it all up when Michael first retained her before Brigman was even appointed. He said he offered his services for a price for Tara’s clients who had money to burn and who wanted to make sure they got full custody of their children.”
“How did you feel?”
“Scared. Upset.” Alexa shrugged. “Hopeless, too. I realized I’d never had a chance of keeping them. Then I asked Dr. Brigman why he had decided to tell me.”
“What was his reason?”
“He said Michael was months behind on his payments. So he had decided if I could come up with two thousand a month, he would give them to me. He said he knew they’d be miserable with Michael, and he felt guilty about making them go live with him.”
“What did you think?”
“I was horrified, and he laughed at me. He warned me not to think about trying to get relief from Judge Watkins because Michael was paying him off, too. Although apparently, according to Dr. Brigman, the judge wasn’t making as much as Brigman himself.”
“What did you say to his offer?”
“I told him I didn’t have that kind of money. He just laughed at me again and said I’m giving you ‘the single-mother discount.’ He said all I had to do was get my job back at Warrick, Thompson, and I could easily afford his arrangement.”
“What did you do then?”
“I decided to leave. I still thought he was trying to set me up for the complete loss of Meggie and Sam.”
“What time did you leave?”
“I’m guessing nine-thirty.”
“Where did you go?”
“I drove around La Jolla and Pacific Beach. I wasn’t really going anywhere. I just didn’t want to go home and be alone. At one point, I parked and tried to call Bob again, but he still didn’t answer.”
“What did you do next?”
“I kept driving; and as I drove, I thought about what he’d said. I decided to go back and accept his offer and beg Alan to take me back at the firm. Even though I wouldn’t see a lot of the children with a full time job at Warrick, Thompson, I’d still see more of them than I would if Michael got ninety per cent custody.”
“What time did you get back to Dr. Brigman’s?”
“About ten-thirty. I thought it was odd he wasn’t there. I decided to drive some more and come back again to accept his offer.”
“Did you go back?”
“No. I kept driving around more or less in circles until Meggie called and said she and Sam were afraid.”
“But you were driving in the vicinity of Michael and Brigman’s houses?”
“Yes. I couldn’t go home until I’d told Dr. Brigman I’d find the money to pay him for custody of Meggie and Sam.”
Sarah looked over at Jim, who looked grim. Alexa followed her gaze. Her deep blue eyes looked like an animal’s when it realizes it is caught in a trap. “Remembering this doesn’t help us, does it? Its just adds to my motive to kill them.”
“I’m afraid you’re right,” Sarah said.
“Wait, maybe it does help,” Jim frowned as he concentrated. “Alexa can testify that Brigman called her to come over, and he was alive when she left at nine-thirty. And he wasn’t there at ten-thirty when she went back, so she couldn’t have killed him then. If she’d been angry over the bribes, she would have rushed back a lot earlier than ten-thirty. And we know Brigman didn’t die until eleven. And I learned something today from Tara Jacob’s ex-secretary. Tara was sleeping with both Brigman and Michael.”
“Did they know?” Sarah asked.
“Brigman did. And he wasn’t happy. Marilyn said Michael wasn’t really interested in Tara, but she pursued him relentlessly. She knew he had a lot of girlfriends and she didn’t like that.”
Sarah glanced down at her watch. Seven-thirty. “I’ve got to get going.” She said it so convincingly that even she believed she had someone to meet somewhere.
“You should stay and eat,” Jim said as she gathered her belongings.
“Not tonight.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
First Friday in November, 2013, Alexa’s Cottage, Pacific Beach
Sarah hurried to her car and got in. She sat behind the wheel for a moment and wondered where to go. She decided not to drive through the heart of Pacific Beach because on a Friday night at seven o’clock, the partiers would be taking over the streets. Her nerves were like frayed electrical wires, snapping and arcing, and she was not in the mood to worry about hitting jaywalking drunks.
She navigated her way back to Felspar Street which led on to Mount Soledad Road. She decided it would be easier to drive over the mountain and through downtown La Jolla to go home. As she swung up the mountain’s long steep grade, she considered stopping at Trend for a drink. The bar offered half-priced appetizers on Friday night, and it was a big draw for businessmen in the office buildings near by. Maybe she’d pick up someone to spend the night with, and maybe he’d be interesting enough to take her mind off Alexa cooking supper for Jim.
But that was the trouble with Trend. She couldn’t go in now without wishing Jim were there, too. The bar had always been one of her favorite spots for picking up the men who rotated quickly through her life, but her feelings for Jim had ruined that for her.
She reached the top of the mountain and began her descent toward La Jolla. The BMW purred happily along the sharp bends and twists on the downward slope. She steered into the curves and let herself admit the truth: she wanted off this case. The emotions it conjured up slammed her to the ground, day after day. It brought back the dark days of Joey Menendez, a place of horror she never wanted to revisit.
She was now on the steepest part of the descent. Her feet reached for the clutch and the brake to slow the big car into the hairpin turn. The brake depressed, but her speed didn’t change. Automatically she pumped the brake. Craig, Lewis had required its high-profile criminal lawyers to learn advanced driving techniques. She felt confident even in the emergency.
But the brakes remained unresponsive. She still had the clutch engaged, so she pulled the stick back to third gear. But nothing happened. Suddenly she was covered in cold sweat without time to think. The brakes and her clutch were gone, and she was hurtling toward a hairpin turn at sixty miles an hour. She frantically pumped the brakes and tried to steer away from the stone wall directly in her path. At the last minute, the car somehow made it around the turn without flipping over. Another lay just ahead.
She continued to hold the wheel as she reached for her last hope, the emergency brake. But, it too, was gone. The car continued to pick up speed, and she braced herself for the coming turn. And then nothing.
* * *
After Sarah left, Alexa went to the kitchen to finish preparations for dinner. Jim followed and poured more cabernet for both of them. He noticed she was wearing very flattering dark jeans and a medium blue cashmere sweater that set off her lovely eyes. She was recovering, he thought with satisfaction.
They ate in the tiny dining table in the alcove off the living room that pretended to be a separate dining room. The food was good, the wine relaxing, and Alexa’s spirits had been lifted by her ability to remember the night of June 2.
Jim insisted on helping her with the kitchen cleanup, and then they took the last glass of wine of the night into her living room and sat side-by-side on the couch.
“Like an old married couple,” Jim smiled, and then realized he’d had a hair too much to drink, and the alcohol was talking.
But she was not offended. “Too bad we didn’t cross paths at Georgetown.”
“Except that I was about ten years before your time.”
“True. Still, we could have been very good friends.”
“Well, I’d say that we are good friends now.” Why was he throwing caution to the wind? He knew better.
Alexa smiled. “Yes, we are. And not many people have stayed my friends.”
“It only takes a few really good ones, you know.”
Alexa looked up at him with her clear blue eyes and then gently laid a hand on his shoulder. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For everything. For believing in me.”
She was so small and beautiful and alone in the world. And he hurt for her. His feelings were about to get the best of him. He should leave before he said or did something he shouldn’t.
“It’s after eleven, and I’ve kept you up too long. You need your sleep.” He stood up and smiled down at her. “Thank you for dinner.”
She got up, too, and he realized once more how tiny she was. How could any man lay a hand on her in anger?
“I’m glad you liked it. You should let me cook for you more often.”
She followed him to the front door. He paused just before he opened it.
“Lock up as soon as I’m gone. And keep your phone with you. Leave the little light on in the living room.”
She smiled. “I will, of course.”
“Goodnight. I’ll see you in the morning.” And he leaned down and gave her a kiss on the cheek.
* * *
Jim hurried home, downed a fast tumbler of scotch, and fell into bed. When his phone went off at one a.m., he opened his eyes long enough to see the call wasn’t from Alexa. He didn’t recognize the numbers, so he pushed the dismiss button and went back to sleep. But the phone shrilled again, determined not to let him rest.
“Hello.”
“This is Scripps Memorial Hospital in La Jolla. Someone whom we believe is a friend or relative was in a car crash tonight. The police found your name among her things. She’s here in the hospital. Her name is Sarah Knight.”
Panic seized him. How badly was she hurt?
* * *
She was sitting on the side of her bed, trying to sign something with her left hand. She had a white gauze bandage wrapped around her forehead, and her right arm was in a sling. She looked angry and annoyed.
“What are you doing here?”
“Making sure you’re ok.”
“How’d you find out I was here?”
“The hospital called. My name was the only one they could find in the car. Apparently you don’t carry the names of your next-of-kin on you.”
“That’s because I don’t have any.”
“Well, I’m filling in tonight. Get back in bed. What are you trying to do?”
“I’m signing myself out and going home.”
At that moment the door whooshed open, and Jim remembered all the recent nights with Alexa in the hospital. He’d had enough of them, but he knew Sarah should stay put.
“I’m Tom Barrett,” the forty-something, square-jawed, salt-and-pepper haired doctor in the white coat strode in with a smile and an out-stretched hand. No wedding ring, Jim noticed, and the kind of face women found irresistible.
“You must be Mr. Knight?”
“No, a professional colleague.”
Was that a spark of relief in the meltingly handsome doctor’s eyes? Jim didn’t want to think about it.
“Well, Sarah here has had quite a blow to the head. She’s lucky to be alive at all. Very lucky. She’s sprained her right arm; but more importantly, she’s got a mild concussion and shouldn’t go home tonight. Maybe you can get her to see reason.”
Tom Barrett turned to Sarah who was frowning at his handsome face. “Put that down and let me take a look at you.”
“I’m fine.”
“You are not fine. Any nausea or dizziness? Double vision? How’s that headache?” He proceeded to shine a light in her eyes, in the face of her silence. He smiled, “You aren’t going to tell me, are you?”
“I’m going home.”
“You are not going home. You can’t drive.”
“I’ll call a cab. I’m going home.”
Tom Barrett sighed and turned to Jim. “See if you can talk some sense into her.”
Jim sat down on the chair beside her bed as the door closed behind the doctor.
“Hand me the paperwork.”
“Not, yet. Tell me what happened.”
“The car hit a wall going over Mount Soledad on my way home.”
“Were you drinking?”
“No, I only had one glass of wine at Alexa’s.”
“So why did the car go out of control?
“Don’t know. The BMW people took it to the shop. Ask them.”
“I will. But you know what happened. Tell me.”
“Hand me the papers.”
“Not until you tell me.”
“Ok, ok. The brakes failed.”
“And you have a manual transmission. Why didn’t you down shift?”
“I did.”
“So no clutch, either.”
“Right.”
“Someone just tried to kill you.”
“I’m aware of that.”
“And now you want to sign yourself out of the hospital and go home in the middle of the night?”
“Don’t argue with me. Hand me those papers.”
Jim studied her wiry, determined form, swallowed by the white tent of the hospital gown. He watched her try to scribble with her left hand.
“Come to my place instead. I’d rather know you were in my guest room.”
“Nope. Going home.”
“So there’s nothing I can say to change your mind?”
“Nothing.”
“Okay. Then I’ll drive you.”
* * *
She was fading, Jim noticed, as they turned into her drive. Her fierceness was no match for the medications Dr. Barrett had given her. He wondered if she’d fall deeply enough asleep to let him take her home with him. She had not been able to get her clothes on alone, so the hospital had let him wrap a blanket over the cavernous hospital gown she still wore.
She seemed to read his mind about taking her back to his place. Her eyes popped open. “Don’t even think about not letting me go inside.”
“You just seemed to have passed out here in the car.”
With a mighty effort, she heaved open the passenger side door with her left hand.
“Wait. Let me. Where’s your key?”
“In my purse.”
“Come on, then. Lean on me. If you don’t, you’re going to fall and send yourself right back to Dr. Barrett.”
