Beyond Reasonable Doubt (Keera Duggan), page 32
Rossi stared at Keera for a long moment. This could go any number of ways, she thought, but she was banking on the Frank Rossi she’d come to know. Reasonable. Rational. Willing to admit when he was wrong, or at least not quite right. Someone who didn’t let his ego get in the way of the truth. Plus, she had one last thing to hopefully tip the scales. Keera reached into her briefcase and removed documents an inch thick, clipped together in the right corner.
“What are these?” Rossi asked.
“These are Adria Kohl’s phone records. Her CDRs.”
“You’ve already established her father called her. Seems to me what was said in that conversation is a she-said-she-said situation between Adria Kohl and Jenna Bernstein.”
“No. Look at the other number I highlighted that Adria Kohl repeatedly called.”
“I already have,” he said. “It’s Thomas Martin’s number.”
“Right. Weren’t you curious about all those calls?”
“I was, yeah.”
“Look at the date. They started after Lisa Tanaka stumbled onto Jenna screwing Thomas Martin in her office and told Adria Kohl about it.”
Rossi took a moment and considered the dates of the calls, then returned his attention to Keera.
“But Adria Kohl didn’t go to her father and tell him Jenna and Martin are screwing. Why not?” Keera asked. “If she wanted to have something to make her father realize Jenna was a fraud and using him, a way to get rid of her, why wouldn’t she go to him with this incriminating evidence?”
“I don’t know. I’ve been asking myself that same question.”
“Because she couldn’t, Frank. Because, as I said, Jenna has always been a master manipulator, and Sirus Kohl wasn’t the only one she was manipulating. She was also manipulating Adria Kohl.”
A light bulb flickered behind Frank Rossi’s eyes. Or maybe the bulb had always been there. He had just needed Keera to illuminate it. “Why didn’t you call Martin to the stand and get him to tell you the substance of the calls?”
She smiled. “Come on, Frank. He wasn’t going to admit it. He’s married with kids.”
“All right, you called this meeting. What do you suggest?”
“Just do what you do best, Frank. Bring in Thomas Martin and lean on him a bit. Question him about his affair with Jenna Bernstein.”
“And if he denies it?”
“Tell him you know about the two of them screwing in the car. Tell him you know about Jenna giving him a foot job under the table in a restaurant, with Sirus sitting at the table.”
“Seriously?”
She nodded. “Question him about these records, and all these calls from Adria Kohl. Get him to admit Adria Kohl called him repeatedly because she was blackmailing him, threatening to expose his affair with Jenna to his family and to his clients to destroy his personal life and his business if he didn’t do as she said.”
“And if he still doesn’t admit it?”
“Then I’ll put him on the witness stand Monday and do my best Perry Mason impersonation, then take my chances that I’ve created reasonable doubt with at least one juror.”
“You already think you’ve convinced them; don’t you?”
She shrugged. “Maybe not all of them.”
“But one or two.” He studied her. “So why not just let the case go to the jury?”
“Patsy always taught me to never rely on a jury, that when you think you know you’ve won, that’s when you’re in real trouble. If you can get your client a good deal and avoid the jury, take it. Don’t let your own ego—your desire to win—be injurious to your client.”
“But that’s not the only reason; is it?” he asked.
Keera wasn’t trying to make herself look magnanimous. “Walker Thompson is a good man and a good prosecutor. He’s not Miller Ambrose,” she said.
“You’re giving him a chance to save face, not lose another case the public and the PA’s office thought he should win.”
“I’m not interested in rubbing anyone’s nose in the dirt.”
“Does that include my nose?”
It did. Keera had thought of Frank Rossi before she thought of anyone else. She’d always liked him. And a part of her, were things different, would have pursued her feelings. “I’m just doing what’s in the best interests of my client.”
Rossi nodded but looked disappointed. “You realize the consequences of her testimony today, that she knew she made misrepresentations about the LINK to investors and regulators. It’s admissible in the US Attorney’s action.”
“I do and so does she. She’s not innocent in this, Frank. She’s responsible for everything she put in motion, for those two lost lives. She didn’t pull the trigger, but she might as well have.”
“So she chose the lesser of two evils.”
“I spelled it out for her. It’s the right deal for all of us.”
“And you think all of this started because Jenna Bernstein was sleeping with Thomas Martin, and Adria Kohl was upset because she was also sleeping with Martin, and blackmailed him?”
Keera thought back to the meeting she’d had in Jenna Bernstein’s condominium. She thought Jenna had steered that conversation to get a rise out of her, which was not unlike Jenna, but Jenna hadn’t said what she’d said for that purpose. She’d said it to lead Keera to find the critical evidence everyone was missing, why Adria would be vengeful.
“No,” Keera said. “Not because she was sleeping with Thomas Martin.”
Chapter 35
Keera rang the doorbell and waited. She had to sign into the register at the desk in the lobby, and the guard on duty called and announced her, but she still had doubts that Jenna would let her in. She heard the deadbolt disengage, and the door pulled open. Jenna stood dressed in sweats. She’d clipped her hair atop her head and wore glasses. Keera had never seen her wear glasses.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, her tone flat.
“We need to talk.”
“You couldn’t leave the courtroom fast enough this afternoon,” Jenna said.
“You want to do this in the hall?”
Jenna stepped aside and Keera stepped in, closing the door behind her. She heard the television on in the other room, the local news. Most people in Jenna’s position would have avoided the news. Jenna wasn’t most people. Far from it. On the counter were a wine bottle and a glass of white wine.
“I had to take care of something before speaking with you.”
“What?”
“Leading the police to the evidence I need to negotiate a deal for you.”
“I’m not taking a deal.” She picked up the glass of wine and walked into the living room.
Keera followed. “I haven’t made one yet. As I said, I’m waiting for certain things to transpire. If everything goes as I hope they will, I suspect I’ll be able to make a deal to have all charges against you dismissed with prejudice.”
“With prejudice?”
“It means the prosecution could not retry you. But I need to ask you a couple more questions.”
“What questions?”
“I didn’t put it together right away because I thought you intended it just to get a rise out of me.”
“Put what together?”
“Why Adria Kohl hated you so much.”
“You’re going to have to be a little more specific,” Jenna said.
“The other morning, when I came here, you told me about a sexual relationship you’d had with a woman while living with Sirus Kohl. Why?”
“You asked about affairs. I told you about my affairs.”
“Why didn’t you tell me her name?”
Jenna shrugged.
“Because you wanted me to figure it out on my own and find the evidence to prove it. You wanted me to figure out why it was significant.” When Jenna did not answer, Keera said, “That woman was Adria Kohl.” It wasn’t a question. Keera intended it to be rhetorical. “It’s the reason she didn’t tell her father about you and Thomas Martin, the reason why someone who hated you so much didn’t use your affair to convince her father to get rid of you. She didn’t tell him because she feared what you would tell her father about the two of you. If she betrayed you, you would betray her. You had her over a barrel. You had the ultimate way to hurt her father. But you made one mistake.”
Jenna admitted and denied nothing. She asked, “What’s that?”
“You didn’t realize who you had manipulated. You didn’t realize Adria Kohl would play your game even nastier than you.”
After a beat of silence, Jenna said, “You spoke of a deal? What kind of deal?”
“The kind of deal that requires you to again tell the truth about why Adria Kohl would want to put you behind bars.”
“There’s no reason for me to do that. You’ve established reasonable doubt. You’ve established Adria Kohl had the opportunity to kill her father, and that she had access to a weapon.”
“I don’t have a motive.”
“Greed. She wanted what was left of her inheritance.”
Keera smiled. Jenna, smarter than everyone else. “Not strong enough.”
“Why not?”
“It doesn’t explain the entire story. I told you in the conference room, Jenna, it’s a gamble to take this to the jury. Maybe I’ve created reasonable doubt. Maybe I haven’t.” Keera shrugged. “Juries are always a crapshoot. Patsy would tell you the same thing and give you the same advice. If a good deal can be made, take it.”
“And if I don’t take it?”
“Then, if I didn’t create reasonable doubt, you’re going away for the rest of your life at a maximum-security facility. You said it wasn’t enough for me to have a jury find you not guilty beyond a reasonable doubt. You wanted me to prove your innocence.”
“But not by destroying my reputation.”
Keera, despite all her experiences with Jenna, still marveled at her lack of self-awareness. Jenna still believed, despite everything that had happened, that she could rise from these ashes. “That ship sailed when you testified in court this afternoon, Jenna. I don’t know what you’re thinking, but you’re not going to walk away from this and start another company or convince other investors to give you money. That part of your life is over, Jenna.”
Jenna lowered her gaze, and Keera saw the young girl and woman still trying to find an end around. Jenna had obscured the truth so often she could no longer find it. She finally understood what JP had meant when he said Jenna hadn’t won anything, that she’d lost everything, including herself. Jenna was like Jay Gatsby in F. Scott Fitzgerald’s novel The Great Gatsby, one Keera had read in high school but which now, ironically, had deeper meaning. Jenna had pretended for so long to be someone she was not, she no longer knew who she was. She had become the person consumed by the pursuit of money and status and willing to do almost anything to get it and to keep it. But she would never be rich, and she would never be the person she pretended to be, the person she desperately wanted to be, a person of power and influence.
She would never be admired.
She would never be respected.
She would be pitied. Much like Gatsby.
And maybe that’s what Jenna feared even more than spending her life behind bars, why she wanted desperately to be found innocent. She still thought she could find a way out of her predicament. She still thought she could win.
She couldn’t.
Not this time.
“You’re going to jail, Jenna. Your testimony ensures you’ll be convicted in the US Attorney’s case. It won’t be the state penitentiary, and it won’t be for the rest of your life, but you will be a convicted felon. So you can forget about starting another company or becoming rich or being on the cover of any more business journals. Maybe, instead, you can think about ways to rebuild your credibility and your life, and find out who you really are.”
Jenna drank the remainder of her wine. Her eyes got that sharpened blue focus, and her voice that convincing tone Keera had heard too often to be fooled again. “You created reasonable doubt. You can win this case, Keera. It will be a huge feather in your hat.”
Keera smiled. “You just can’t stop; can you?”
“No, Keera, listen to me. You win this case, and you’ll have clients begging for you to represent them. You’ll be like Patsy once was—the best there is.”
“I don’t want to be like Patsy. I just want to be me.” She started for the door, then turned back. “Maybe I was wrong.”
“About what?”
“Maybe you’re beyond rehabilitation. That’s up to you. I did my job.” Keera pulled open the door but glanced back again. “Ironic; isn’t it?”
“What?”
“You spent a lifetime lying and manipulating others to get what you wanted, and you’ve ended up with nothing. And now the only thing that will prevent you from spending the rest of your life in a prison . . . is to tell the truth. I’ll need your answer first thing tomorrow morning.”
Chapter 36
Rossi wasn’t surprised when Thomas Martin told him he preferred to meet at TMTP’s offices in Auburn, though it meant hearing Billy grumble about fighting traffic on a Friday night. Rossi had given Martin the courtesy of a telephone call, also to Billy’s chagrin. Ford wanted to go in with guns blazing and haul Martin downtown to answer questions in the hard-interrogation room, which wasn’t much larger than a prison cell, and watch the heat warm his ass until he squirmed.
“You’re a hard-ass,” Rossi said to his partner. “Sometimes you get more bees with honey.”
“And sometimes you get stung by that bee.”
“I don’t want to raise any red flags and have him clam up before we even get him talking.”
Rossi told Martin that some things had come up during trial, things that Rossi needed help understanding. Martin sounded curious, as expected, but also perhaps concerned. He initially told Rossi it wasn’t a great time—one of the kids had the flu.
Rossi told him the meeting had to be tonight and suggested they meet at TMTP so as not to disturb Martin’s wife and children. “Wouldn’t want your wife to worry that anything was wrong” was how Rossi had put it.
Either Martin got some religion, or he got the point. The interview was going to take place. Rossi was willing to let him pick his poison on the location. Martin picked TMTP.
The gate rolled back. This time the security guard on duty never left his booth, just waved Ford and Rossi through. It being after hours, they had to buzz the intercom. Rossi smiled at the security camera posted over the door, just to be polite. The door buzzed and Ford pulled it open.
Martin met them in the lobby. He did his best to smile, but it looked forced and uncomfortable. Rossi wondered if he’d already spoken to Adria Kohl. “Sorry you had to come all this way,” he said.
“Not a problem. Billy and I like to spend our Friday nights in traffic on the freeways.” Rossi smiled. A subtle way to let Martin know not to waste any more of their time.
Ford remained silent. He didn’t smile.
“Must be important,” Martin said.
“It is,” Rossi said. “Would you like to do this here or in your office?”
“Come on back,” Martin said, sounding even less confident.
When they reached his office they retook their positions, Martin behind the desk. But this time neither Ford nor Rossi took a seat, and Martin took the hint. He remained standing.
“We don’t intend to be here long,” Ford said, another not-so-subtle way of saying they expected to get straight answers.
“How’s your little boy?” Rossi asked.
“I’m sorry?” Martin said.
“Your son with the flu.”
“Oh. Yeah. He’s fine. Just a temperature and a runny nose.”
“Unusual time of the year for the flu; isn’t it?” Ford said.
“You know kids. They’re always getting sick,” Martin said.
“I don’t have kids. Not married.” Rossi held up his hand and showed Martin his ring finger. “Hope to someday. Must be nice to have someone to go home to, raise a family, do all those fatherly things. You sure love it; don’t you, Billy?”
“Wouldn’t throw that away for anything in the world,” Ford said. “All you really have is your family.”
They stood in silence. Martin blinked first. “You said on the phone it was important.”
Rossi said, “Lisa Tanaka testified in court today.”
“Who?” Martin said.
“Don’t do that,” Ford said.
“What?” Martin said.
“Don’t act like you don’t know who she is,” Ford said.
“It’s been a few years, Officers.”
“Detectives,” Ford said. “Violent Crimes.”
“She was PDRT’s controller,” Rossi said. “She worked late quite a bit. I understand Jenna Bernstein did also, and we’ve already established that you waited at night to drive her home.”
“That’s right.”
“She’d call you on your cell phone when she was ready to go home?”
“Usually, yeah.”
“Was there some other way she’d let you know she was ready to go home?” Billy asked, sounding perturbed.
“No.”
“So she would call you,” Ford said. “Not usually. Always.”
“Okay. Always.”
“Unless you happened to be in her office,” Rossi said.
Martin chuckled and shook his head. “Tanaka,” he said. “Yeah. I know who she is now.”
“Tell us,” Ford said.
“She was working late one night, and I was in Jenna Bernstein’s office helping her move some furniture. She knocked on the door and when Jenna answered it . . . well, she saw us not exactly put together and came to the wrong conclusion. She even told Adria Kohl about it.”
