The Family Lawyer

  Jonah ran back into the living room and headed to the kitchen to grab his Elmo bag.

  I jumped up from the couch. “Oh, you can’t take that bag, J-Boogie.”

  “I want my bag,” the boy said. “I’m going to Nana’s house.”

  “It’s broken, remember? That’s why I let you use—”

  “I want my teddy.” He lay the bag on the ground and searched for the zipper.

  “How about we leave Elmo,” Virginia said, handing her husband the borrowed Tumi bag, “and we take the teddy bear?”

  I shook my head. “The teddy bear’s broken, too. The battery pack…”

  “I want my teddy.” Tears shimmered in Jonah’s eyes. “Pop-pop, I want my teddy.”

  Shit. No. He couldn’t have—

  “Give the boy his teddy, Danielle,” the minister said with a stern smile. “I don’t think he cares if it’s broken. He’s been through enough, don’t you think?”

  I sighed, then, unzipped the bag with thick fingers.

  As soon as I lifted the top, Jonah snatched the bear from the bag. “Thank you, Dee-Dee.”

  After writing down the Oakleys’ address again, and being assured that I could visit Jonah anytime I liked, I escorted Kirk’s parents and Jonah to their BMW. As they pulled away, Jonah waved at me from his car seat.

  I waved good-bye, too—to him and to the teddy bear filled with Ecstasy.

  Chapter 21

  Lost.

  For the first time since Sunday, I didn’t know what to do.

  The worst had happened—my nephew had been taken from me and critical evidence linking my sister to Kirk’s demise was also gone. I’d failed Melissa twice.

  I drove around Los Angeles for hours, trying to figure out my next steps. My wandering led to a cupcake shop, as wandering sometimes does. It was close to five o’clock when that “next step” popped in mind.

  Today, the park across the street from Ian’s town house had gained visitors and now bustled with activity. Grade-school kids carried soccer balls and water bottles to wide grassy fields. Figures in yoga pants and basketball shorts jogged around the dirt track.

  The door finally opened. Ian gawked at me and then, at my outfit.

  I wore a tight, vintage Star Wars t-shirt and snug Levi’s worn only on special occasions. Like this one. “Thought you’d want a proper dessert.” I opened the box’s top.

  Four perfect cupcakes—two salted caramels, two strawberries—waited to be devoured.

  He flushed and leaned against the door, literally swooning. “You’re kidding me.”

  “What?”

  His gaze met mine. One of his eyebrows cocked. “The cupcakes, the shirt, the jeans.”

  “Coincidental.”

  He lifted an eyebrow.

  “Okay. Engineered. Want me to leave?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “I’ve had an awful day, and now, I need your advice again.”

  “I heard about Jonah.” He stepped aside. “Come in.”

  I carried the cupcakes into the kitchen. The stovetop was splattered with red pasta sauce. In the living room, Family Feud played on the television. On the couch, documents spilled from an expandable file folder—in one of them, I glimpsed a photo of Kirk dead on the living room floor. A large, three-ring binder sat on the coffee table next to a bottle of Corona.

  I left the box on the kitchen counter, then headed back toward the front door. “I don’t want you to think…Part of me, of course, wants to get in good with you. The other part of me finds you terribly interesting. The cupcakes—these are out-and-out manipulation.”

  “I love your honesty, but there’s nothing I can do. Jonah’s guardianship is above my pay grade.” Ian shoved papers from the couch cushion into the folder, then ambled into the kitchen. “Let’s see now…” He opened the cupcakes box. “Oh, wow. Salted caramel and strawberry. My absolute favorites.” He cut a caramel in half and offered a piece to me.

  I dragged my finger through the frosting. “Before Kirk’s parents came to get Jonah, I got a special visitor today.”

  He blinked. “Umm…”

  I plopped onto the couch. “Not that kind of special visitor,” I reached for his Corona and took a swig. “Sophia Acevedo.”

  “What?” He sat next to me, took the beer, and drank. “Why didn’t you call me?”

  “I knew she wouldn’t do anything crazy with Jonah there. I thought of not answering but I got sick of hiding. I just wanted to get it over with. Looking back, it was probably a stupid thing to do but then I haven’t had a clear thought since Sunday.”

  “So, you’re here. What about her? Is she still alive?”

  I laughed. “I didn’t stab her, nor did I pepper-spray her even though she threatened my sister again.” I grabbed my phone from my purse, then played the recording of Sophia vowing to hurt Melissa.

  He bit into his cupcake, then smiled. “I love the taste of manipulation in the evening.”

  “Tastes like victory.” I dabbed at frosting and crumbs left on the corners of his lips.

  “Sophia’s crazy,” he said, “but do you think she’s actually dangerous?”

  “Hell, yeah, she is.” I fished out a battered envelope from my purse. It was stuffed with pictures of Mel’s damaged black Chrysler, repair quotes and invoices, and police reports. The pictures showed that the car’s headlamps had been smashed; the windshield wipers had been pulled off; and “BITCH!!!” had been scratched into the car’s hood and driver’s side door.

  “This all happened in August. Mel took out a restraining order against her last month.” I handed him a copy of the temporary restraining order that forbade Sophia to come within 500 yards of the Oakleys. “Of course, Sophia ignored the order.”

  “Of course,” he said.

  “But this is why her alibi is bullshit,” I said. “She admitted that she and Kirk argued the last time they were together.”

  “But there’s ATM video…”

  “She could’ve easily taken La Brea that night.” La Brea Boulevard ran for nearly fifteen miles from near the airport, passing Baldwin Hills and ending in Hollywood. “It was a Sunday,” I continued, “so there wasn’t a lot of traffic. She still had time to kill Kirk, then withdraw money. She practically says that she shot him. And now she’s gonna hurt my sister. You have to do something. Did you take her DNA?”

  “We did.”

  “That’s her on Kirk.”

  “Probably.”

  “What about Mel’s neighbors? Did any of them have security cameras?”

  “Nope. Old people don’t bother with that shit.”

  “Sophia says you guys cleared her as a suspect.”

  Ian squinted at me. “You believe a woman you told me lies as much as she breathes? Relax, Dani.”

  “I can’t.” My eyes burned—I wanted to cry. I took the Corona from Ian’s hand, took a few hard swallows, then handed the bottle back to him. I shoved the rest of the cupcake into my mouth. “I don’t mean to be a Debbie Downer, spoiling your night of spaghetti and beer. I’ve disturbed your peace, and I’m sorry. I’m just scared, okay?”

  “You bought me dessert.” He rubbed his finger against the neck of the Corona bottle.

  I winked at him through my tears. “And I bought you cupcakes, too.”

  He traced that cold finger along my ear. “I’ll keep looking into Sophia, okay?”

  “Okay. Thank you.”

  “We done talking business?”

  “Yes. So, first, there’s this…” I climbed onto his lap and planted tiny kisses on his face and neck until he shivered beneath me.

  He chuckled. “Is this you or is this manipulation?”

  “It’s whatever you want it to be.”

  His hands slipped beneath that tight Star Wars t-shirt. “You were so worth the wait,” he whispered in my ear.

  No hidden phone recording this time. This time, I was just…being.

  Chapter 22

  Fog had already hidden the sun, an
d was now rolling off the Pacific Ocean. Something like it washed over me and made it hard to breathe. It was Ian. He was like sunlight winking through the trees. A dime glinting in the sand. A surprise.

  I liked sunlight and found money.

  My heart had lost its map and directive playing this game with him. Our late-afternoon tryst had ended on the couch, naked, stuffing our faces with cupcakes, drinking Corona, and watching Family Feud. It had been a perfect hour.

  Until I remembered: Jonah was gone. And so was the teddy bear.

  My condo had become a coffin with his absence. I’d paid too much money to live in a coffin, and I didn’t like the idea of Jonah discovering drugs in his toy.

  But what could I do?

  After pacing and thinking, drinking wine and thinking some more, I came up with a great excuse to drive way the hell to Yorba Linda—Jonah’s inhaler and breathing chamber were still in the Elmo bag.

  After a nearly two-hour drive, I stood on the porch of the Oakleys’ European Rustic home of many gables, thanking goodness for allergy-induced asthma.

  “He needs it,” I said, “especially being around all the dogs.”

  Now, it was Virginia Oakley’s turn to gape.

  Virginia led me through the great room with her purple satin robe trailing out behind her. “I’m so glad you remembered before he started wheezing. Sorry you had to drive way out here, though. Jonah’s fast asleep, but can I get you something to eat? Folks have been dropping off food since we got back into town.”

  “Yes, please.” My stomach growled to prove the point.

  We moved through the formal dining room where a large framed photograph of Kirk wearing his graduate school cap and cowl sat in the middle of the table. Vases of flowers and candles surrounded the portrait.

  In the family room, the hardwood floor was littered with Legos and the breakfast table near the kitchen was covered with filled Tupperware and Corningware—and Jonah’s beloved teddy bear.

  “Jonah’s moved right in, hasn’t he?” I nodded to the toys.

  “He’s such a sweet boy.” Virginia grabbed a paper plate from the counter. “He reminds me so much of Kirk, especially with those freckles. I slipped and called him by his daddy’s name a few times.”

  I smiled as bile burned the back of my throat. “How are you holding up?”

  She scooped, dipped, and plucked from platters, bundled foil, and containers. “I’m keeping busy. Noreen should be here tomorrow—she’s in shock, too. Really: It’s such a surprise. Who would do something like this, and to such a good man? I’m thinking it was one of those kids he was helping. Some folks you just need to leave alone.”

  She set a plate filled with fried chicken, macaroni and cheese, red beans and rice, collard greens, and sweet potato pie in front of me.

  I wouldn’t have to eat for a week.

  The doorbell rang.

  Virginia glanced at her wristwatch and gasped. “That’s right—the head deaconess is dropping off more food. Will you excuse me for a moment?” She hurried to the front door.

  I grabbed the teddy bear. My hands shook as I pulled apart the Velcro flaps. I winced from the noise, then shoved my hand into the teddy bear’s back.

  Fabric. Stitching. Cotton batting and…nothing.

  The wine glass and the blister packs were gone.

  Chapter 23

  I sank into my chair, near tears. Where was the glass? Who took the E? Had I actually seen Melissa place both into the bear back on Sunday night? Was this the right teddy bear?

  “Did you want to kiss Jonah good night before you left?” Virginia placed the deaconess’s dishes of bread pudding and peach cobbler on the breakfast table.

  I forced myself to stand from my chair and trudge down the hallway to Jonah’s bedroom. Dodgers pennants and posters of cartoon baseball players mixed with pictures of Kirk and Melissa, and Virginia and Leland Oakley. The boy had fallen asleep with his butt in the air again. I kissed his head and whispered, “I love you.”

  “He’ll be fine,” Virginia assured me as we left the room. “We need him here—he’s helping us more than we’re helping…” Her breath caught and she clutched her neck. “You’ll help us plan something really special for Kirk, won’t you?”

  A lump formed in my throat, and all I could say was, “Yes.”

  Reverend Oakley stood in the doorway to his home office with his hands shoved into the pockets of his corduroy slacks. He’d aged since I’d seen him hours ago—his whiskers looked whiter, his back more hunched. “You heading out, Danielle?”

  I nodded. “Thank you for dinner. If Jonah needs anything else, just let me know. I’ll bring it—I don’t mind the drive.”

  “I’ll walk her out, Ginny,” the minister said. “You go rest up.”

  After one more hug and kiss from Virginia, Reverend Oakley led me into his office. The room smelled pleasant, that pipe tobacco aroma and lavender. Pictures of young Kirk and Noreen sat on the desk alongside a Bible open to Ezekiel and a glass mug of tea.

  “How’s Melissa doing?” Reverend Oakley asked. “We didn’t get to talk for long.”

  “She’s exhausted and confused.” I plopped into the armchair across from his large walnut desk. “She hasn’t had time to mourn or to really process any of this. They keep asking her but she has no clue who killed Kirk.”

  Reverend Oakley held his chin in his hand as he peered at me. “She didn’t shoot him, now, did she?”

  Anger flared in my gut. “Melissa would never hurt Kirk, even though he—” I clamped my lips together.

  “Even though he…what, Danielle?”

  The greasy chicken bubbled in my stomach. “I should probably get back.” I bent over to grab my purse from the floor, then looked back at Kirk’s dad.

  Melissa’s wineglass now sat near the Bible.

  He held the blister packs of Ecstasy. “Is this why you drove all the way out here?”

  I said nothing. Just stared at my sister’s secret now in her father-in-law’s hand.

  “Was the rest of your sentence, ‘Even though Kirk was an alcoholic, a chronic drug user, and womanizer’?”

  I whispered, “Yes.”

  “I found all of this when I was trying to fix Jonah’s teddy bear.”

  I swallowed but no spit came.

  “Is this evidence?”

  I didn’t answer.

  “The police need to know it exists,” he said. “It’s only right that I tell them what I found.” He reached for the telephone that sat on the corner of his desk.

  I blurted, “Wait.”

  “Why?” His hand rested on the phone receiver. “You don’t want me to tell them that you hid evidence in my grandson’s toy?” He chuckled, then waved his hand. “Danielle, I know who my son was. I know what he was up to when he married Melissa, and I know about his relationship with that awful Sophia woman, and what he did with Melissa’s money. I know Kirk was no angel. But he didn’t deserve to be killed.” His voice broke, but he held my gaze.

  “I don’t know if he was killed by a scorned lover, a drug dealer, hell, a damn cartel. And that tears me up. But whoever did it, he’s gone. So, let’s make a deal: you don’t tell the police anything that will posthumously implicate my son in a crime, and I don’t tell the police about…” He waggled the packets of Ecstasy. “I like you, Dani. And I love Melissa and I think she deserved better. But Kirk was my son, understand? And I have a reputation, here and across the country.”

  He sat back in his seat. “How would it look to my parishioners if they found out my son got drunk all the time, got high all the time, and was about to rip off his wife and run away with his girlfriend?”

  I squared my shoulders, then said, “It would be the truth.”

  “Yes, but do you want the entire truth to come out?” He furrowed his brows. “Kirk told me a lot during one of our more…sober discussions. Your sister’s not all meekness and light. She’s done some things with my son. And from what I hear, you aren’t a paragon of virtue
, neither.”

  My cheeks burned, and I dropped my head.

  “Hear me, and hear me good,” Reverend Oakley said in a measured tone. “You take my son down, and you all go down. And when you think you’re at your lowest, I’ll make sure that neither you nor your sister get even five minutes with Jonah ever again.”

  Chapter 24

  Reverend Leland Oakley would prefer that his son’s murderer walked free so that he wouldn’t look bad. And here I thought that the minister was a good man. But as the reverend pointed out—what and who was “good” in this mess?

  His threat was effective, and his words stayed with me as I made my two-hour drive back to Marina del Rey. By the time I took my place at the living room window, anxiety had burned through the soul food I'd eaten at the Oakleys’ table.

  My phone vibrated and played “I’m Every Woman” from my back pocket. Melissa!

  “Hey,” I shouted.

  “Free at last, free at last,” she said. “For the moment, at least.”

  “So, Jonah—”

  “I know, and I should’ve told you.”

  I plopped into the armchair. “About the Oakleys taking him? Or about being a guardian after the Oakleys’ French poodle?”

  “Stop it.”

  “First, you didn’t even tell me you had a will. And then, you put Noreen, a legitimate wino, in charge of Jonah—”

  “She wasn’t always a wino.”

  “I’m your sister. I’m the one who—”

  “Stop whining, Danielle, and get over here. And bring the Elmo bag.”

  I chuckled without humor. “Oh, yeah. About the bag. Oh, yeah. About the bear, too.” I told her about my conversation with Reverend Oakley. “What are we gonna do?”

  She said nothing for several seconds, then, “Why didn’t you tell Jonah, ‘No, you can’t have the stupid bear’? Never mind. Come over and bring the bag.”

  I grabbed the Elmo roller bag from the kitchen, and headed to grab my purse from the bedroom. But my steps slowed as I neared the hallway closet. A moment later, I was kneeling in that closet, pushing aside the Mardi Gras masks, the shoe boxes, and parasols to find my Hermès Birkin bag.