Temptations - The Complete Series Read online

  I noted that her next project was as the lead in a big-budget David Fincher movie, and I felt both impressed and depressed. I didn’t like movies that much, but I did appreciate David Fincher. They were often dark and gritty, yet highly stylized in many ways. He was a massively popular director from the time he directed Sev7n, a movie about a serial killer that featured, as a penultimate scene, a woman’s head in a box. Fight Club was actually one of my all-time favorite films, one that I had actually bothered to watch several times. Gone Girl was an excellent book and was adapted well by Fincher. No doubt about it, Fincher was A-List, and the fact that Charlotte was not only going to be working with him, but apparently was one of the leads in his upcoming film, impressed me immensely.

  Yet it depressed me, too. How could a morally bankrupt and crazy person such as Charlotte achieve such heights? How was that fair? I thought about the people who struggle just to get through the day, or couldn’t make ends meet, yet they were good, kind, upstanding people. Charlotte was a woman who had somebody brutally killed, just because she was a “fatal attraction” for Slade and wanted Slade to spend his life in prison. Yet she was the one who had achieved fame and fortune.

  Maybe Slade was right after all – there was no God. If there were, such scenarios as Charlotte achieving fame and fortune wouldn’t happen, and all those good people who were on the streets or starving would have the fortune that Charlotte had. Maybe not the fame, because not everyone wanted that. But they would have her fortune, in a just world ruled by a just God.

  I tried to shrug off the metaphysical musings and hunker down. Her movie career and past career as a sought-after supermodel were interesting, but they weren’t what I was after. I was really after the dirt. The dirt that she might have tried to cover up. I needed to find an in-depth article that would maybe provide me some clues as to who she really was.

  I hit upon a Vanity Fair cover story about her, and I knew that this was something that might give me some clues. I knew that Vanity Fair stories were comprehensive, factually correct, and had none of the bullshit tabloid-style hype that other magazine articles dished out. I got up and got a glass of wine, and sat down in my easy chair in the sunroom and started to read the lengthy article.

  I scanned the parts that talked about her movie career and rise to fame. I was more interested in her early life, and the article didn’t disappoint. Her birth name was Carlotta Garancino. The article didn’t say that she was a mafia princess, though. Not that it surprised me that the article wouldn’t say something like that. I would imagine that Charlotte, or Carlotta as it were, dictated what could and couldn’t be in the magazine, and that would be something that she would definitely want to keep out. I knew how the game worked – if a media outlet wanted to get access to a person in the future, they played the game and made sure that certain facts don’t become known. That was how major actors stayed in the closet.

  As I read about her daily life and her struggles, I sarcastically played a violin for her in my head. She whined about how her life had changed since she was offered major roles in major films, and she tried to sound self-deprecating about unflattering pictures of her without makeup that had shown up in various tabloids. She had nothing to be self-deprecating about, though – those pictures showed that she was gorgeous even without a stitch of makeup. I looked them up while I read the article, and she truly was luminous. She explained that her father was a restauranteur in LA – is that what they’re calling it these days? – and her mother was a banker. I read between the lines there – the restaurant was a front for the illegal business, and her mother was probably the private money launderer. After doing a number of mafia cases for the firm, I knew how the racket went. Illegal dollars had to be “laundered” so that they became legitimate, and restaurants were a key way of doing just that. The drug money and the money gained through other illicit means were funneled into the business, which was necessary, because, otherwise, the IRS would become suspicious about how X person had a yacht, a mansion and five sports cars, yet no reportable income.

  I wrote down the name of the restaurant that her father owned, which I recognized as being one of the best Italian restaurants in Los Angeles. That was certainly a place to start.

  The article was interesting in its own right, but it didn’t necessarily shed light on what I was looking for. Then again, maybe it did, because I knew Charlotte’s real name. Carlotta Garancino.

  I felt impatient. I had to find something on her that could possibly lead the investigation into her direction. I knew how to bring down Malcolm – all I needed was the complete videotape. I had to assume that the videotape would identify Malcolm, because otherwise, there wouldn’t have been a reason to destroy the portion where Jordan was killed. So, find the videotape, and Malcolm goes down. But how would I get Charlotte as well? Would Malcolm give her up? If he didn’t, then it was vital that I find the dirt on Charlotte to show that she was behind it all.

  Just then, the phone was ringing. It was Dalilah.

  “Hello,” I said. “Dalilah, how are you? And why are you awake at this time of the night?"

  “I’m okay, and it’s really morning. I couldn't sleep. Listen, Luke and I have been talking. We can’t come to an agreement. I’m so sorry. I really want to do this, but…”

  My heart sank. I had a little over a week to get this, and I had no idea where to start. Who else could hack?

  “I understand.”

  She paused. “It’s not the end of the world. My father’s security team is awesome. They’re the ones who were able to help me out when I needed it. They can help you as well.”

  “Really?” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Perhaps all wasn’t lost? “Can they do it in the time frame that I need it?”

  “That’s the rub. I need to get in touch with them and see what their workload is like.”

  I swallowed, hard. It was wonderful news that Dalilah had the contacts that I needed. But would they be able to come through for me in time? “Okay. Call them and let me know, and how much it will cost.”

  “I will. Don’t worry about the cost. They’re on retainer with my dad, so they’ll do anything that I ask them without charging me.”

  “Dalilah, I know what a retainer is, and somebody is paying. Your father most likely would the one here. I insist on paying. I haven’t even met your father, so it would be completely taking advantage of him if I didn’t pay anything.”

  “Serena, my father literally has more money than he knows what to do with. Literally. I want to do this for you, so please let me.”

  I hated feeling like I owed somebody, so I protested some more until Dalilah threatened to not call them at all if I didn’t give in. “Seriously, Serena, I want to do this. I won’t take money from you, and neither will my father. Now, if you want me to call this firm, then I want your word that you won’t try to pay them.”

  I sighed, feeling defeated on that point. “Okay and thank you. You’re such a godsend.”

  “Don’t thank me yet. I don’t know yet if they can do it in the next week and a half. Hopefully I’ll know within the next few hours, though, if they can do it in the time frame that you need it.”

  “Thanks so much.” I felt awkward asking her for something more, especially since she was insisting on my not paying the firm for doing all of this. But I needed to do it. “There is something more that I need. I almost hate to ask this from you, but I feel that I need to.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “I need some dirt on Charlotte. There’s something in her background that might link her up to this whole thing. Getting information on her is less crucial than getting information on Malcolm, though. It’s less important than getting that videotape. It’s important, but not as time-sensitive. I hope that makes sense.”

  “Of course. What’s her full name?”

  “Carlotta Garancino. I found this out by reading an article about her this morning. I couldn’t sleep, so I got up to find out more about her, and that’s wha
t I found out.”

  “What kind of things do you need?”

  “Anything you can find. I would try to subpoena the information about her, but that would be impossible, considering the fact that I can’t tip Malcolm off that I know what he did. If I asked him to issue subpoenas for Charlotte, the jig would be up.”

  “Okay. I’ll have them do it. Since time is not necessarily of the essence with this one, it shouldn’t be a problem.”

  “Thank you, Dalilah. I don’t know how much I can thank you for doing this.”

  “Anything for you, girl.”

  We got off the phone, and I immediately felt like the clouds were about to part. There was a chance that the whole thing was about to come together.

  I prayed that I was correct about that.

  Chapter 21

  That morning, Slade picked me up to go to the beach. I had everything together – the umbrella, the sunscreen, the snacks for the day, and the dogs. The plan was to go to Coronado, where there was a dog beach, and spend the day. We had also talked about going to a dog-friendly restaurant for dinner. I had to admit that I was looking forward to this day, which was a chance just to lay back and relax. Just to try to forget about the Sword of Damocles that was hanging over our heads.

  He got to my house, and I went over to him and gave him a hug. I found that I couldn’t let go, no matter how hard I tried. To my surprise, the tears came out of nowhere, and I sobbed into his shoulder. I can’t lose him. I just can’t lose him. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what got into me.”

  He continued to hold me even after the tears abruptly stopped. “Serena, I understand. This is tearing me up as well. I don’t show it, though.”

  I looked at him. “Why don’t you show it?”

  “It’s just not in my nature. But I’m in just as much agony as you are about all of this. I would like there to be a way around it, but I really can’t see it.”

  “I can. Call her bluff. See if…”

  He kissed me full on the lips when I said that. Then he stared at me for a few minutes while he ran his fingers through my hair. He kissed me on the forehead while his strong arms wrapped tightly around me again. “Don’t be naïve. Charlotte would be okay, and I probably would have been able to call her bluff if it weren’t for my feelings for you. She knows me well, too well, and she knows how I feel about you. She understands that what I really want to do is make things permanent with you. All these years, she hasn’t really felt threatened. She’s always had it in her head that maybe she and I were endgame after all, so she hasn’t done anything negative. But she knows that you’re different. So…”

  “Well, let’s not let this whole thing ruin our day together.” I was so looking forward to the beach, which was something that I loved to do year-round. It was the main reason why I moved from New York to San Diego. I tried to get to the beach when I lived in New York as well, but it wasn’t the same as actually living within walking distance. Coronado wasn’t within walking distance, although it wasn’t far, either.

  We packed up the car with the umbrella, a cooler, boogie boards, two chairs and the two dogs, and set off.

  On the drive there, Slade held my hand and kissed it from time to time. I didn’t have to close my eyes to know what he was feeling. It was written on his face and I could tell by his actions. He loved me, and I loved him, and he was feeling that there wasn’t a damned thing that could be done to prevent what he was going to do. I knew that there was, but I didn’t tell him that. He would have made me stop the car and he would have gotten out. He would be that angry if he knew what I was planning.

  We arrived at Coronado along with another line of cars, passing through the stations that used to take tolls for the Coronado Bridge, but now were defunct. I wondered why they didn’t just take these stations down, because they were very confusing. The first time I saw these stations, I didn’t think that I could enter the island, because I didn’t have change nor my debit card on me, so I was surprised that I could just sail on through without having to pay anything at all.

  The winding road took us through the town, which was one of the cleanest towns that I had ever seen. There was plenty of green grass and parks, and there wasn’t any litter on the streets or graffiti on any wall. Nobody was ever seen panhandling. People lined the streets, heading to restaurants, bars or shops, which lined the streets. This was a touristy part of town, due to the enormous “Hotel Del,” a large white hotel with distinctive red cupolas, made famous by the old Billy Wilder movie Some Like It Hot, which was partially filmed at this destination. The main part of the old hotel was red and pyramid shaped on the bottom, yet was round. The rest of the hotel looked like a castle, with the red pointy cupolas that pointed high in the air.

  I loved coming down here, because it felt like being a part of history. I could imagine Marilyn Monroe, Jack Lemmon and Tony Curtis wandering around the halls of the Hotel, and walking these very beaches.

  The dog park was on the far end of the beach, next to an air force landing base. Which meant that, from time to time, enormous planes would land, coming in close to the people on the beach. That was somewhat exciting for me too, because I always loved being close to planes that were landing. It was somewhat thrilling.

  We walked to the beach, hand in hand, and I let Bella and Gigi off the leash when we got to the dog beach part. They immediately started excitedly sniffing around, and another dog came up to make friends with them. The dog ran off, with Bella and Gigi running after her at top speed, barking all the way.

  Slade couldn’t help but smile, and neither could I. I smelled the air, which had the distinctive odor of the beach, and I felt instantly calmed. The water was surprisingly violent, which I didn’t necessarily associate with Coronado, as this water was more shallow than other beaches around the city, so the waves were usually small in these parts. Then I remembered that there was a powerful hurricane in Mexico, which probably affected the surf in this area. Since Slade and I were planning on boogie boarding, it was fortuitous that these waves were better than normal.

  It was the middle of the week, so there weren’t a ton of dogs around, but there were about 20 or so, running around. I usually saw the same breeds when I came out here – Frenchies, Pugs, Labradors, Boston Terriers, and Pit Bulls. There were other random breeds, such as enormous French poodles and the occasional wolf-mix, but, by and large, I could tell which breeds were the most popular in the world by coming to the dog park.

  After setting up the umbrella and our chairs, we sat down and got out some water and snacks. I stretched my legs out in front of me, putting my toes in the warm sand. I drank some of the contraband wine that we snuck into the place. Since alcohol wasn’t allowed on any beach in San Diego, we couldn’t just drink it openly, so we put the wine into containers that weren’t clear and drank straight out of the containers. It wasn’t that big of a deal here, though, since this part of the beach wasn’t patrolled, nor were there any lifeguards on duty.

  I watched the dogs frolicking for a while, and then got up, with our boogie boards. “Let’s go,” I said. It looked like the surf was rolling, and it was going to be an excellent day for this kind of fun. Slade got his board, and we raced into the water.

  For the next hour or so, we boogied on our boards. I caught wave after wave, and some of the waves I rode all the way into the shore. This delighted me, as I felt like I was flying. The two little dogs were watching us from the shore, and Gigi would tentatively try to get into the water, before the waves would crash over here and she would back away, shaking her little head. After a little while, they made some other dog friends and forgot all about us, although I always had my eye on them.

  Slade, for his part, was game, although I had the feeling he would rather be on a surfboard. He had told me that he was an excellent surfer, although he rarely had time to do it anymore, especially now that he was in the middle of the fight of his life. But he made do with the boogie board, and he was quite good at getting the right wave at th
e right time and riding it in.

  After about an hour, we were ready for lunch, so we went back to our umbrella and opened up our picnic basket. Inside the basket were sandwiches, chips, fruit and coleslaw, the latter two packed in ice. There were also little plates and plastic utensils. I placed a sandwich and some chips on each of our plates and then dished out some coleslaw and fruit as well.

  We ate in silence for a few minutes and drank our wine. He tentatively gave me his hand, and I took it. He squeezed my hand, and words didn’t have to be spoken. This was a perfect afternoon. The temperature hovered around 80 and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky, the dogs were running around like two chickens with their heads cut off, and the surf was perfect. Most importantly, we were sitting next to one another.

  I wondered, I honestly wondered if we would ever have another day like this one. Would Slade be in prison in a few weeks? If he wasn’t in prison, would he speak to me again when I got that videotape and halted his guilty plea? Would that videotape even do the trick? Even that wasn’t a magic bullet. If the prosecutor wanted, she could pretend that the videotape didn’t exist. It wasn’t going to be authenticated, and it would be obtained by illegal means. Malcolm certainly wouldn’t sanction it. The prosecutor could authenticate the video easily enough, but the fact that the video would be obtained illegally would make it difficult to introduce as evidence.

  If that happened, then I would have to send the video to the media. That would blow everything up. Everything would be blasted to smithereens. The media would probably do the investigations that the police and prosecutor, thus far, had refused to, and they probably would be led to Charlotte somehow.