Beyond Reasonable Doubt (Keera Duggan), page 23
Though surprised, Keera did not physically react. “Did any of these men . . . or women ever threaten you?”
“Woman. Just one. And no, they didn’t.” She paused. “Have you ever?”
Keera entered that place she once found playing chess, where she locked away her emotions and did not put them on display. “Have I ever what?”
“Had sex with a woman?” Jenna asked.
“No.”
“Ever thought about it?”
“No.”
“Now who’s not being honest?” Jenna chuckled. “I won’t say it doesn’t have its advantages. She knew how everything worked and didn’t need any help or instruction.”
“How long did that relationship last?”
“Hardly a relationship. A few months.”
“And the other relationships?”
“About the same. Some shorter. One or two one-night stands. As I said, I didn’t have time for love.”
Keera thought that, if true, it was all incredibly sad, this young woman seeking to change the world, worth billions of dollars on paper, having one-night stands. “How long was your relationship with the head of your security detail?”
Jenna looked out at the view. A breeze picked up and blew back strands of her damp hair. “Off and on for about six months. Maybe longer. I don’t recall.”
“Was he married?”
“Very. He had two children.”
“Did you care for him?”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“Did you?”
“No. It was just sex, Keera.”
“Did he see it that way?”
“I don’t know.”
“He never said he loved you?”
“If he did, I don’t recall it.” Another chuckle.
“How did it start?”
Jenna gave the question some thought. “Sirus was older and not exactly spontaneous or adventurous in his lovemaking. I was young when I started PDRT, and I resented the way Sirus controlled me and my day. My affair with Thomas Martin was my chance to rebel, and he was convenient.”
“Meaning what?”
“We spent quite a bit of time traveling together. He was someone I could talk to about Sirus and about PDRT. One thing led to another, and the next thing I knew I was in the back seat with my legs in the air and my feet pressed against the ceiling.” She shrugged again. “It was exciting, Keera. The kind of sex every woman fantasizes about. You remember the things we used to talk about in high school. Our fantasies?”
Keera did. It had been girl talk. Sex in the back of cars, in elevators, on beaches, at the drive-in. Some of their classmates professed to having experienced such escapades. Some even shared photographs and videos to prove it.
“Thomas gave me the opportunity to experience my fantasies. I once stuck my foot in his crotch underneath a restaurant table, with Sirus sitting right beside me, and felt Martin get off.” She smiled. “He wasn’t the only one.”
“How did it end?”
Jenna gave her a wicked smile and laugh. “With the most exhilarating orgasm of my life after I got home.”
“I meant, how did the relationship with your bodyguard end?”
“After I lost my security detail and the opportunities it had once provided, I didn’t pursue him.”
“Did he pursue you?”
“For a bit.”
“Did he call or text you?”
“He never texted. He was very cautious not to put anything in writing. He called, but I told him I wasn’t interested. As I said, it was a relationship of convenience, and he was very married . . . with children. He wasn’t in a position to force anything.”
“Could he have been pissed off enough to do something like this—to kill Wei and Kohl, and try to blame you?”
Jenna gave it some thought. “He’d have the skills, certainly. And access to a weapon. Sirus consulted him before he purchased the gun for me. So he knew it was a 9 millimeter. Would he have the motivation? I don’t know.”
“I think the question is, could he have hated you that much?” Given Keera’s experience watching Jenna lead men on to get what she wanted, she thought it possible. She also knew Jenna could drive men crazy. The kind of sex she described was like any other addiction or craving. When cut off, without explanation, without so much as a goodbye, what did that do to a person? And what would that person do?
“I’d like to think not . . . But . . .”
But Thomas Martin was only human, and people had killed for a lot less.
“Anything else you wanted to discuss?” Jenna asked.
Keera had to refocus. “I know you went to Volunteer Park. Did you go to Sirus Kohl’s home to try to convince him not to speak to the US Attorney’s Office?”
Jenna glanced at the police report in Keera’s hand. “Is there any video or photograph that shows I did?”
“Not to the house, no. Just the photograph of you at Bitchin Burritos, but that could change. Again, I don’t want to be blindsided.”
“Did CSI find my fingerprints or DNA inside the home?”
Keera felt like she was cross-examining a reluctant witness. “No.”
She shrugged. “Then I wasn’t there, Keera.”
Again, Keera studied Jenna. Again, if she was lying or bluffing, Keera couldn’t tell. But she’d been down this road before, and she knew better than to trust her and get burned. Then, again without prompting and not pausing, even for a moment, Jenna said, “And to appease you, I’ll swear on my mother’s life that I wasn’t there.”
Chapter 26
The trial judge assigned to Jenna Bernstein’s case would not have been Keera’s first choice, but he also wouldn’t have been her last choice. Judge Johnson Marshall was a jurist with a conservative, but not extreme, bent. Keera couldn’t help but think the presiding judge had assigned Marshall for that very reason, as well as his reputation for being unflappable and running a tight courtroom. Given the considerable media attention the trial was generating, Marshall would keep the trial from becoming a circus.
Without Patsy to consult, Keera spoke with other attorneys who had appeared before Marshall and learned the judge preferred legal briefs to be just that. Brief. He read each brief submitted and did not rely solely on his legal clerk’s analysis to make his decisions.
When Keera and Walker Thompson entered Judge Marshall’s office for the case-setting conference, Marshall swung a golf club slowly in front of a full-length mirror, analyzing his swing. He wore a crisp dress shirt, his tie flipped over his shoulder. “I have the club championship this weekend and haven’t had much time to get out and play,” he said, setting the club aside. “Golf, like the law, is a jealous mistress. Unfortunately, I don’t have free time to devote to her. I don’t suppose you’ve agreed to a plea?”
“No, Your Honor,” Keera and Thompson said in unison, but both with a smile.
“Then let’s get down to business, eh?”
Marshall slipped behind his desk into an ergonomic chair. Based on what she knew of him from other attorneys, the cleanliness of the judge’s desk and the bookshelves behind him, which included pictures of his three children but no spouse, he was divorced and fastidious. Midfifties, and his physical presence was as polished and tidy as his office. His gray hair was clipped short, and his lean physique indicative of a runner. On a wall in his chambers hung a framed photograph of a golf green. A brass plate on the frame indicated he’d recorded a hole in one. He pronounced “about” “a-boot” and slipped in the word “eh,” indicating a Canadian background.
As expected, Thompson had submitted a brief requesting that Marshall rescind Judge Greene’s decision to grant Jenna Bernstein bail. He had made all the arguments Keera expected. Ella had submitted a brief in opposition. Judge Marshall asked each attorney pointed questions, but it became clear he was not about to undo what Greene had done, at least not without good reason.
“Has there been any indication Ms. Bernstein has failed to abide by the conditions of her bail?”
“None,” Thompson admitted.
“Then we’ll leave well enough alone, eh?”
Marshall confirmed the State would pursue a first-degree murder charge and seek to have Bernstein sentenced to life in prison—Washington having abolished the death penalty. He also confirmed Bernstein would not waive her right to a speedy trial, then wasted no time setting the case for trial. It was all very efficient.
“We’ll have a crowd, but that crowd will be orderly, or I’ll have them forcibly removed from the courtroom. I expect your demeanor to be professional and to show respect for the judicial system. The defendant has a constitutional right to a fair trial, and I will ensure that right. If you adhere to my rules, we’ll get along. If you don’t, your bank account will take a hit. Am I clear?”
In the marbled hall outside the courtroom, JP Harrison reclined on a pew. Among anxious attorneys and their clients waiting to enter courtrooms, he looked like the picture of composure in blue jeans and loafers, no socks, and a blue casual blazer.
“I don’t suppose this is a coincidence, you being here,” Keera said upon approaching.
“I don’t believe in coincidences. Ella told me of your conference. How did it go?”
“Efficient. We have a trial date.”
Harrison handed her a multipage document. “Adria Kohl’s CDRs from her cell phone.”
“Anything of interest? Or can I assume your presence here answers that question?”
“As I said, I don’t believe in coincidences. You shouldn’t either.” He uncrossed his legs and sat up. “Kohl’s phone confirms her father’s phone call to her the night of his murder.”
“Any accompanying text messages?”
“Not that night, but the following morning it seems she tried to reach him by text and by phone. He didn’t answer either. However, you will note going through her records that another number also repeats frequently, and those calls started right about the time that Ms. Tanaka threatened to expose Jenna Bernstein’s affair with the head of security.”
Keera lowered the papers. “Who was Kohl calling?”
“I traced the phone to a warehouse in Auburn, Washington,” Harrison said. “It’s also a burner phone.”
“Is it a business or a residence?”
“Business. TMTP Security.”
Keera felt the revelation’s weight, dropped onto the bench, and flipped through the pages. “Jenna’s security detail.”
Harrison nodded. “Would appear to be.”
“But Kohl never confronted Jenna about the affair,” she said looking up at Harrison. “At least not according to Jenna, though she’d certainly have good reason to do so. Maybe the calls to TMTP were about his relationship with Jenna?”
“Maybe, but it seems doubtful. The calls continued over several months. Not days.”
Keera considered the dates and times of the calls. Harrison was correct.
“And I believe you said Martin was not fired.”
“No. He wasn’t.”
“Seems he should have been; doesn’t it? Given Jenna was living with Adria Kohl’s father.”
“One would think he would have been, certainly. What’s your thought?” Keera asked, suspecting Harrison, once a homicide cop, was working on a theory.
“My thought is, what if Adria Kohl was also in a relationship with Thomas Martin and, when Tanaka told her what she had uncovered, she learned Martin was cheating on her with Jenna Bernstein? I mean, we both wondered, why would Adria Kohl let her father continue in the relationship, knowing Jenna was having an affair?”
“Why do you think?” Keera asked.
“I’ve given that question a lot of thought. It’s unlikely it had anything to do with Thomas Martin. I mean Adria Kohl was single, so it’s not like Martin would have had any leverage over her to keep her from firing him.”
“Agree,” Keera said. “But why not confront Jenna, or advise her father?”
“Perhaps it had to do with the fact that Adria Kohl’s father had invested a hundred and fifty million dollars in PDRT. Most of everything he had, I’m told.”
“What do you mean?”
“He was in too deep to just walk away because his girlfriend was cheating on him; wasn’t he?”
“You’re saying Adria Kohl had no choice but to let it play out and hope the company hit it big, so Sirus might at least get back his money?” Keera said.
“She was his sole heir. No siblings. Mother was out of the picture, and by the way, I’ve learned the divorce was ugly, and it got uglier after Sirus hit it big. Adria lived with the mother, in an apartment. The mother worked at the courthouse as a secretary. Based upon what I have found, they didn’t have much.”
“Adds a new wrinkle also to Erik Wei stepping up to say the LINK was just one big con; doesn’t it?”
“Indeed,” Harrison said.
“Adria Kohl would see no end game if Wei blew the whistle,” Keera said. “Her father wouldn’t be able to get out his money. It would have ruined his investment.”
“And carrying it a step further, Adria Kohl’s inheritance. Seems she would need something else to happen. Something that would at least get Jenna Bernstein out of the picture and place the blame for the LINK’s failings on her rather than her father.”
“By getting Jenna convicted of murdering Erik Wei?” Keera couldn’t keep skepticism out of her tone.
“It’s a theory to explore,” Harrison said. “Might be nothing, but who had access to all the cell phone and computer records at PDRT besides Jenna and Sirus Kohl?” Harrison asked.
“Adria Kohl.”
“And who would have access to the safe in her father’s house, where Jenna said she last saw him put the gun? Adria was her father’s personal attorney, as well as PDRT’s general counsel. He would have likely provided her access to his personal records, were anything to happen to him, and he likely kept those records in his safe.”
“Possibly,” Keera said. “But then why not leave Jenna’s gun behind for the police to find?” But even as she asked the question the answer dawned on her.
“Too obvious,” Harrison said. “No one leaves the murder weapon behind. It’s beyond rare. The police would ask why Jenna would shoot Wei and leave the gun. She’s far too smart to do something so stupid.”
“True,” Keera said.
“Adria Kohl would know from Wei’s text message, and the restaurant meeting between Wei and Jenna, that Jenna had a strong motive to kill Wei. That alone, even without the gun, should have been enough to convict her. Except for Patsy pulling a rabbit out of his hat,” Harrison said.
“Except for that,” Keera said.
“Which brings us to Sirus’s murder and the bigger question,” Harrison said.
“Why would Adria Kohl kill her father?”
Harrison gave her a look and a shrug. “As I said, she was first on the scene. She could have shot her father, sent those text messages using his phone and Jenna’s phone. Then waited and used her father’s phone to call herself to make it look like he called to tell her he wanted to go forward with the meeting with the US Attorney.”
“But why would she kill him? What would be the animus?”
“Good point,” Harrison said. “I’m not yet sure.”
Keera wasn’t either, but she saw the chessboard pieces sliding, like they did in a chess match when an opponent surprised her, and she had to think of alternatives. Patsy had taught her to be flexible, not to become wed to just one strategy or theory. He said it was too easy to lose when someone blew up that strategy. She had another thought. “Maybe Adria Kohl didn’t send those text messages, and maybe she didn’t call herself on her father’s phone.”
“I don’t follow,” Harrison said.
“We’re speculating Adria sent those text messages pretending to be Jenna, then made it look like her father called her so she could tell Rossi and Ford he did so to confirm the morning meeting. But what if her father did send those text messages to Jenna, and it was Jenna who responded? What if, after those text messages were sent, her father didn’t call Adria to tell Adria he wanted to go forward with the meeting? What if he called to tell her he wanted to call off the meeting?”
“Why would he do that?” Harrison said, then just as quickly he deduced Keera’s possible answer, and they both said at nearly the same time, “Because Jenna convinced him to call it off.”
“But after what she did at the Wei trial?” Harrison said. “Why would he even entertain what she had to say?”
“Why would he continue to provide her security services after she had moved out? Why would he send her those texts telling her what he intended to do?” Keera asked.
“He wouldn’t.”
“Think, JP. You’re a man. What would compel him to do that?”
“He wanted to get laid?”
She groaned and shook her head.
“You said to think like a man.”
“He was reaching out. He was trying to get Jenna to respond, start a dialogue. Go through Sirus Kohl’s CDRs for the past two years and determine the number of times he reached out and Jenna didn’t respond. I’m betting it’s a dozen or more. What would force her to finally respond?”
“A threat to expose her,” Harrison said.
“Yes. But more than to get her to respond, what he truly wants is to see her in person,” Keera said, continuing to see the chess pieces sliding across the board. “He wants to ask her what happened to them. Which is why he doesn’t capitulate in the text string, and when Jenna can’t get him to call off the meeting, what does she do?”
“She puts on a pseudo disguise and goes to his house.”
“Which is what he really wants. We both speculated she would do that; didn’t we?”
“To convince him not to have the meeting.”
“Yes,” Keera said.
“But how?” Harrison said, still sounding unconvinced.
“By convincing him that she still loved him, JP. What if she went to convince him they could both be together, that they both could stay out of jail if they didn’t testify against each other.”
