Temptations - The Complete Series Page 18

  It turns out that wasn’t really necessary. She told us nothing but good things about Slade, her “little boy” who she knew could never have done something like bludgeon a man to death. “He always got the best grades, he was always polite,” she said. “He has never been in trouble.”

  I tuned into her vibrations, as Malcolm asked me to do, and I felt that she was telling the truth. Of course, I doubted that she knew her son as well as she should. She seemed the type who would let the nanny raise her children. But she wasn’t lying. She did seem to have genuine affection for Slade.

  I thought, however, about Slade’s words. About how absolutely anybody in the world is capable of absolutely anything. It just depended upon the circumstance and how far a person is pushed. It was like that movie, In the Bedroom, with Sissy Spacek and Tom Wilkinson. They played the most normal suburban couple ever, who were pushed to their breaking point when their daughter was murdered by her deranged boyfriend. When the boyfriend beat the murder rap, Tom Wilkinson’s character killed the boyfriend in cold blood, with the full knowledge of his wife. That movie made it clear that we all have it in us to kill, every one of us.

  So, even though Slade was a “good boy” who had “never been in trouble,” that didn’t mean jack. Slade still could be guilty, and I knew that.

  There was one other thing that bothered me about his mother. Slade told me that his mother was only 43 years old. This woman looked to be in her sixties, and she certainly didn’t look the type who would have a child at the age of 15.

  I so wanted to ask her how old she was, had she ever lived in New York, and if she was sick with cancer, but I kept my mouth shut. It wasn’t my job to ask questions, but rather, to listen and tune into whether or not this woman was deceptive.

  When the mother left, I decided to have a talk with Malcolm about Slade’s case. “Where are we as far as finding another suspect?”

  Malcolm shut the door. “I hate to say this, but Jane is looking good for it. She had the code to the lab, even though she told us that she didn’t. And she’s intelligent enough to be able to edit that surveillance tape so that there’s nothing on there that shows anything.”

  I shook my head. “That doesn’t sound right at all. Listen, I didn’t get a single bad vibration off of her, and she was more than happy to give me those clothes. She wasn’t standing in my way at all. Plus, Jordan showed me that marijuana pill. I can’t imagine that she had anything to do with that.”

  “Regardless, she had motive, means, and opportunity. Of course she gave you the clothes. She’s a scientist; I can’t imagine that she believed that you could have done anything with those clothes. You didn’t get a bad vibration from her, but you’ve admitted to me that you can’t turn your psychic powers off and on. It’s possible that she just has a wall up. As for Jordan showing you that marijuana pill, it’s possible that the spirit put up some misdirection. That happens, doesn’t it? If Jordan wanted to protect Jane, he could have showed you something that was irrelevant and would cause you to go on a wild goose chase. Right?”

  I had to admit he had a point. A spirit showed me what he wanted to show me. That spirit could very well have engaged in misdirection if he wanted to cover up what had really happened to him. If Jordan loved Jane, he very well could have been putting me on the wrong path deliberately.

  “Okay. Now, you said that Jane had the code to the lab, but she told you that she didn’t? How did you find out that she did?”

  “We subpoenaed her computer records and it was on there. I didn’t think that it sounded right that she wouldn’t have the code to her husband’s lab, and I was right about that.”

  “Maybe somebody put that code on her computer. Maybe somebody is trying to frame her.”

  Malcolm shook his head. “This isn’t the movies. Who would do something like that?”

  “The real killer. He hacks into her computer, puts that code in there, and voila! Jane looks like a big liar.”

  “You’ve been watching too many movies. At any rate, we’re following that lead.”

  I shook my head. Jane killing her husband seemed wrong to me. She was a tiny woman, and Jordan was a big guy. Not a huge guy, but 200 lbs at the very least. Granted, the killer used a baseball bat, but she would have had to have superhuman strength to inflict the damage that happened to poor Jordan.

  I went back to my office, and put my head on my desk. Sometimes I hated my job. I hated that I was privy to the very worst of human nature, and I hated not really knowing if the people we were defending were guilty or not. And I really hated having to deal with good people like Jane being ensnared in all this nonsense. The poor woman was grieving, yet we were piling it on.

  I felt cheered, though, when later on that day I talked to my lender and found out that I was approved for the loan. The house was $500,000, I had $100,000 in the bank for the down payment, and the closing costs were to be paid by the lender. I would be able to move into the home as early as next week.

  That piece of information – that I soon would have my own home – put me into a better mood than I had been in awhile. I was still upset beyond belief about Slade’s deception about his mother, and I was more than sad that Malcolm was going to be pursuing Jane as the alternative killer for Jordan. But at least I was going to finally have a place of my own. Not just any place, either, but a cute little place that would occupy my time and was close to the beach. I craved that, because I craved being near water at all times.

  When I got home that night, Donny was sitting in the living room, watching television and smoking out of a bong. He greeted me with his usual nod when I walked through the door. “Hey, baby,” he said. “What’s going on?”

  “Well, I found a house in PB. I’m going to be moving in next week.”

  “Ah, dude, I’m going to miss you. But I’m glad that you’re getting a place of your own. Those two little rug-rats are going to be happy, too.”

  As if on cue, both Bella and Gigi bounded into the living room and hopped up on Donny’s lap. Donny laughed as they covered his face in doggie kisses.

  I smiled. “They’re going to miss you, and I will too. But you’ll have to come and visit me.”

  “You know I will. I get bored surfing around here all the time. Maybe I can find a new scene in PB and meet some other people. Expand my horizons, you know.”

  “There you go.”

  “So,” Donny said as he sucked on the bong some more. “What’s been going on with that Slade Bridgewell case?”

  I shrugged. “It’s coming along. We’re interviewing character witnesses right now, but we’re soon going to be going into serious depositions. Why do you ask?”

  “Dunno. The news people are reporting something new on the case and I wondered if you had heard about it.”

  “I haven’t heard about it. You know I stay away from those news reports. They’re so slimy and so inaccurate most of the time.”

  “Yeah, I know, they’re bullshit. Especially that cunt, Anna Place. That woman really needs to join ISIS or something.” He smiled.

  Still I was curious. “Well, I don’t really care, but what did you hear?”

  “Man, I don’t know if this is true or not. It sounds pretty bogus. But they’re reporting that Slade’s mother is terminal and that gives him motive. They’re saying something about Slade killing Jordan because Jordan refused to finalize development on a drug that could cure her. That they got into a fight over that, and Slade beat him up.”

  That sounded like crap to me, but my ears perked up when Donny mentioned Slade’s mother being terminal. “That’s ridiculous. I could imagine getting into a fist fight over something like that, but, come on. Nobody would have done something like what happened to Jordan just because of a disagreement.”

  Donny sucked on his bong again and blew the smoke out. He lay down on the couch and invited the dogs up with him. They eagerly got on the sofa with him, and Bella laid her head down on Donny’s bare torso. “Yeah, that new theory does sound lik
e crap to me too, but you never know. Something like that could make you pretty angry, I would imagine, especially if Slade was feeling desperate to save his mother.”

  I shook my head and heard Slade’s voice in my ears. Anybody is capable of doing anything under the right circumstances. Would these be the right circumstances? Saving his mother?

  And what was going on with the mother anyhow? That woman who came into our office didn’t seem like a cancer patient, that was for sure.

  “Listen, that doesn’t even seem right. Even if Slade were desperate for a drug to cure his mom, she certainly wouldn’t get the drug at all if Jordan were dead, now would she?”

  Donny shrugged. “People are not rational when they’re really, really angry. Perhaps Slade went ‘outer limits’.”

  I opened my mouth to say something, but nothing came out. I hated that Donny was starting to make sense, and I really hated that I still had suspicions about Slade.

  I wanted to call Slade to ask him about all of this information coming out, but I didn’t. I figured that he would eventually show up as he had a habit of doing so.

  Chapter 19

  It turned out I was right about that. I closed on the new house and arranged for movers. Everything was happening super fast, lightning fast, but that was fine by me. As long as I had something to look forward to in life, such as a brand new house, my mind was taken off of things that I simply couldn’t control. Like Slade.

  On moving day, I went to the new house and unlocked the door. It had a musty smell, so I opened all the windows and looked around. It was empty, of course, but it wasn’t before. The emptiness made me look at it in a whole new light. I made a list of all the things that I was going to need right away and then went around the house and made a list of my long-term projects. It always helped me to make lists, because, if I didn’t, I would always be going on a wild goose chase.

  As I was making my list of things that needed to be repaired – broken cabinet doors, a screen door that wasn’t shutting properly, a light fixture that didn’t seem to want to turn on – I turned around and Slade was standing right there in the front door. He had a bottle of champagne in his hands, along with a dozen red roses.

  I smiled at him. I wanted him to know that I wasn’t angry anymore and that I really didn’t mind him stalking me, as he apparently was still doing it. Otherwise, how could he have ever known that I was moving in that very day?

  “You certainly do know how to make an entrance,” I said as he tentatively stepped forward.

  “Well, I wanted to help you christen your new house. And I also wanted to tell you that I’m sorry for showing up before. It was wrong of me to do that. I don’t want you seeing other men, of course, but I guess I just have to trust that you’re not.”

  I bit my bottom lip. I didn’t want to go off on him and his double standards. Not until I got a better explanation on what exactly he was doing in New York. I was quite sure that there was a reasonable explanation for his trip there, and for the fact that the woman who was in the office was clearly not 43 and didn’t seem to be a cancer patient. I just had to figure it all out.

  “Don’t just stand there,” I said with a smile. “Help me clean this place up.” I gave him a broom and a dustpan and he took them both with a grin.

  “I can’t remember the last time I actually cleaned anything,” he said.

  “Oh, I know. You have Magdelena or whomever do that, right?”

  “I’m joking. Listen, I know how to clean. I haven’t always been so reliant on the help. But you have to admit that my house in LA is huge. If I had to clean that place myself, that would literally be all that I would have time for. But this little place is right up my alley.”

  Slade swept the entire place, while I worked on cleaning the bathrooms and the kitchen, and then he came to me for rags and cleaner. “Your windowsills are filthy. I’m surprised that the real estate agent didn’t do a better job of making sure this place was more turn-key.”

  “I don’t want turn-key. I’ve told you that before. This place is lived in, and it’s just how I like it. It’s going to be gorgeous when I get done with it, I can assure you.”

  “I know, I was just teasing you. Really, this house is very nice, and you’re right. It needs a lot of work, but you could really make something out of it.” He paused. “And I hope that you might let me help you make something out of it. I’m pretty handy with floor sanders and refinishing myself.”

  I smiled. Slade certainly did seem to have a different attitude now. Instead of demanding, he was inquiring in a hopeful manner. Maybe he really has been chastised.

  As we worked, I tried to think of how to broach the topic of what I really needed to know. I had to find out about his mother and about New York, but it didn’t go so well the last time I brought all of it up, so I was hesitant to do so again.

  I knew that it was my delivery about it last time, though, so I made a vow that this time I would make sure that I asked him in a more polite way. When things were calm.

  Evening fell, and we ordered two pizzas – one with cheese and one without. “The movers will be here in the morning,” I told him. “So tonight, I guess I’ll be staying in a hotel.”

  “You can come to my house.”

  “Your house? You mean the one that you tried to make me live in?”

  “The very one. When you turned my offer down, I decided just to keep it for myself.” He helped himself to a slice of pizza and took a swig of the Pale Ale that I had bought at the liquor store around the corner. “But, I don’t know. It might be kinda romantic to just stay here tonight. Just you and me; no lights, no television, no distractions.”

  “Well, I did bring a sleeping bag and a pillow because I figured that I would be staying here tonight. I also have a blanket. If you don’t mind sharing the pillow, I can lay the sleeping bag out on the floor and we can cuddle up.” I hoped that he didn’t mind doing that, because he was right – staying there that night would be romantic.

  But before I even thought about anything sexual, I needed answers.

  So, while we ate our pizza and drank our beer on the floor, I decided just to ask him what I needed to know. “Slade,” I began. “Listen, I’m sorry about what I said before; when I accused you of lying to me about New York, but help me understand.” I took a deep breath. “Your mother came into the office this week, and she didn’t look sick and she certainly didn’t look to be in her early forties. And your sister came into the office as well. You told me that you’re an only child. I’m totally confused.”

  Slade looked stricken and didn’t say anything for a long time. I sat there, in silence, willing him to speak and tell me what was going on. But I didn’t push him. He looked like whatever it was he was about to say was going to be very difficult for him.

  Finally, he spoke. “The woman you saw is my adoptive mother. My sister is my adoptive sister. She’s the biological daughter of Helen, though, who is the mother that I’ve spent most of my life with. Well, with the nannies that she hired for me, that is. I didn’t spend all that much time with her though.”

  I nodded. It was becoming clear, although I didn’t necessarily know why Slade was still in contact with his biological mother. “I see. And your biological mother…”

  I closed my eyes and tuned into him. He was open at that time, emotionally, and I felt a range of things – grief, anger, despair. It was as if he was letting loose with something that he had bottled up all these years.

  He sighed. “My biological mother’s name is Margot. Margot Facinelli. I didn’t lie when I told you that she’s Italian. Helen isn’t, though. She’s French Canadian. But I lived with my biological mother for the first seven years of my life. She taught me how to cook, and she was always making sure that I had skills. Life skills. I’m guessing that maybe she was foretelling what was going to happen. That maybe those life skills would come in handy for me one day.”

  “Margot,” I said. “That’s a lovely name.”

  �
��Yes. And she’s a lovely woman.” He paused for a long time, while he stared at the wall. “She served time in prison for killing my father.”

  He said that so matter-of-factly that I had to take some time to process it. I closed my eyes and I felt his vibrations. He was devastated beyond measure, but you would never know it by looking at him. He was perfectly calm and was eating his pizza.

  Something told me that he had to learn how to tell this story without breaking down, because he was a master at doing just that.

  “She killed your father?” I asked him. “Why?”

  “He was extremely abusive to her. He beat her so bad that she ended up in the hospital on a regular basis. It was always difficult to explain, though, and the doctors just thought that she was unfortunate enough to be in many car accidents. I hated her as much as I hated him, because I felt that she was just letting him do this to us. I was extremely young, though, so I didn’t necessarily know what she could have done to get us out of that situation.”

  I put my hand on his shoulder and closed my eyes. I wanted to somehow communicate to him how much I cared for him, and how much I was grieving right along with him. He seemed to understand, because he put his hand on top of my own and squeezed tightly.

  “Anyhow, she finally had enough after he finally put me into the hospital, because she shot him one night in cold blood. He wasn’t abusing her at that time, nor was he laying a hand on me. He was sleeping. Because he wasn’t threatening her or me at the time that she killed him, she couldn’t claim self-defense. Her defense attorney tried to get her off on the battered woman syndrome, but that didn’t work. The good news was that the jury didn’t convict her of first degree murder or even second degree murder. She was convicted of involuntary manslaughter and served seven years in prison.”

  “And Helen?”