Three_Deception Love Murder Page 17

  “Aren’t you paying attention? He made Diana a party to a crime.” Why couldn’t she understand the seriousness of Jude’s behavior?

  “There is so much more to discuss. Where do I begin? Russians are mixed up with Jude, this mess is connected to criminal networks, and I lost my contract at school. The FBI is involved. And get this, Cillian is an FBI agent.” I dramatically lowered my head onto the table.

  Finally, she came to life. Her back straightened, and her chin jutted forward as she geared up with questions. Experience told me when she jutted her chin she was ready to attack like a mad rooster. It was best to surrender to her interrogation without a fight.

  A slight reprieve came when the doorbell sounded. Still chewing the Boston crème, Eloise answered the door while I refreshed our coffee.

  I was surprised when Jackson stormed into the kitchen.

  He slid his keys across the kitchen table before demanding, “You, inside!” as he pointed at me.

  Eloise stepped right up into his personal space and tapped her pointer finger on his plaid flannel shirt.

  She leaned her head back to look up at him and boomed at him like a thunderclap. “Hey, you. I don’t know who you are, bucko, but you will not talk to my best friend in that tone! So, pull your shit together, or you can walk your ass right out of here. Got me?!”

  It would have been much more impressive if she had on her $800 business suit and saucy five-inch Christian Louboutin heels. But the messy blond bun, leggings, and ballet flats didn’t pose too much of a threat.

  His eyes barely glanced down at her and he coolly responded, “Eloise, you might want to remove that finger from my chest and back up three feet.”

  “Yeah, and who’s going to make me?” she taunted.

  “Christ, what are you, two years old?” he asked still standing his ground.

  Oh no. Here it comes. Eloise geared up for a fight and locked on detonation mode. Her bun bobbed along with her head, and that was never a good sign. Assaulting an FBI agent would possibly get her jail time.

  “Wait. Jackson, how do you know her name? Have you met Eloise before?” Now, this was confusing.

  He granted her a brief second to step back, but she maintained her stance. Jackson pointed skyward as if God had given him the information.

  We both raised our eyes to where he pointed, and we saw tiny blinks of red light. The cameras. He was watching us on the cameras. Oh my God, had they caught me naked or when I used the bathroom? This had to be against all privacy laws.

  “Oh my God. Are they all over the place? Why wasn’t I notified?” I yelled. Soon I was on the move for a chair to climb onto so I could examine the camera. Unfortunately, I would kill myself trying to reach the camera.

  “Cameras? Who the hell is this freak and why is he watching you on a camera? Has that bastard Jude got you into some sick internet porn where people are paying him to let them watch you all day?” she yelled. Now she was ranting. But she had stepped back to stare up at the camera with me.

  “What? No! What are you on about with such nonsense? He’s an FBI agent. In fact, he’s Cillian’s partner,” I shot back and turned toward her to make sure she didn’t pull the device down to examine.

  “Well, he sure as hell doesn’t look like FBI. I want to see some identification right now, Sparky,” she said folding her arms.

  “Stop. Trust me, he is FBI,” I assured her.

  “So, what’s he doing just busting in here? Don’t they teach you manners at Quantico? Or are you a natural born jerk raised by wolves?” Yes, she was now on a roll, and there was no way to stop this train.

  “Well, El.” He purposefully elongated her shortened first name as a taunt. “Emma and I have some matters to discuss which concerns her relaying sensitive information to you. So, can I have a little privacy please?”

  She let out a huff and lifted her hand dismissively. Eloise replied, “Oh that. I am now retained counsel, and we have attorney-client privilege. So, you can move along now,” she said as she planted herself in the nearest chair and waited for him to retreat.

  “You stay here and don’t say another word until I get back,” he told me. He lumbered off to the living room and dialed his telephone.

  Eloise seized the several moments we had and demanded, “Spill. Now. While he’s gone.”

  “No, just give him a minute,” I said. I sat down to wait and pretended to concentrate on my coffee.

  Not to be deterred she continued, “I want his shield number.”

  “You want his ID so you can check up on him, I caught you checking out his ass as he left the room. Please, for the love of God, pull yourself together.” No sooner had the words escaped my mouth, Jackson came strolling back in with a smirk having picked up my last statement.

  “So, what’s the story?” she demanded.

  “Cillian wants me to direct the flow of information to your newly retained counsel,” he said as he looked at Eloise and braced for an argument. “So, if you ladies will have a seat, I will share what we can.”

  “First, who the hell are you?” she demanded as she sank back and crossed her legs. Her arms followed in a defensive posture.

  “Special Agent Jackson Evans with Organized Crime, FBI,” he said. Now she leaned forward and gave him her full attention. He had her at Organized Crime.

  “Seriously?!” A little too breathy, she had lost her pit bull edge.

  “Yeah, I don’t joke about things like this,” he said with a frown.

  “Okay, go on,” she directed.

  “It is my understanding that you are an attorney of record to Emma Collier. You will be representing her in any estate matters having to do with Jude White. Is that an accurate statement?” he asked.

  “Well, yeah. If you say so. That is my field of expertise,” she acknowledged.

  “Fine, then we are done here. Mr. White has not been declared dead, and there is no estate to administer,” he said. He stood up to leave until she slammed her palm on the table making me jump, and Lucy let out a woof.

  “Oh no, you don’t. You hang on one minute there, Sparky. This ain’t my first rodeo. As her attorney, I can talk about anything I damn well like with her, and you can’t do anything whatsoever about it. Put that in your pipe and smoke it,” she said practically at a shrieking pitch but not fully.

  “Well, since I’m an attorney and you’re an attorney, you are aware of the rules of counseling another attorney’s client. Someone other than you is representing her on the criminal aspect of the matter. So, you are going down a slippery slope, darlin’,” he said. Standing calm and still, he peered down his nose at her as she fidgeted in her chair.

  “You’re a lawyer?” That knocked the stuffing out of her. I wanted to laugh, but wasn’t sure the verbal beating I would get later would be worth it.

  “Hence the Special in Special Agent. Now, are we finished here?” he asked as he started to leave.

  “Nuh, uh, uh.” She stood and wiggled her index finger at him.

  “Emma, you might not recall this because it was a while ago. You were so much in love and planning your happily ever after with Jude. So, your happy hormones might have dimmed your memory.”

  She turned to me, and she said, “I have a revocable trust document sitting in my file cabinet that Jude had me draft when you and he first began living together. It is an ancillary document to your domestic partnership agreement and what is in that trust I am reasonably confident will be helpful to the government. Especially considering the fact that shit for brains is missing and a contingency covering such is in the document. But as my client, you have the authority to direct me to release it once we talk. Or they will waste months jumping through hoops to get a peek at it.” Now she was simply over the moon pleased with herself and her ability to toy with Jackson.

  “I completely forgot about that document. You’re right, he asked me to sign it, but I figured it was a living will or something in case he was injured,” I told her, and this news grabbed Jackson�
�s attention.

  “It is a complicated document covering so many matters. Many that will no doubt help the FBI,” Eloise said purposely baiting him.

  She smiled an obviously fake smile at me and said, “But you and I will need to discuss this extremely valuable document. This is a legal instrument which transfers all Jude’s property to you for ninety days should he become incapacitated or unavailable to conduct business. The document provides permissions for you to make decisions regarding real estate, tangible and not tangible property, as well as his business.”

  Turning her attention back to Jackson, she wiped the smile from her face and continued. “And I think I’m acquainted with a good lawyer with excellent persuasion skills who has a good rapport with the probate judges. I’m thinking if this lawyer brought that very document to a judge along with a missing person report this lawyer might get an order signed invoking the terms of the trust. So, Very Special Agent Evans, what do you think?”

  “I want that document,” he demanded.

  “And I want to be five foot eight, but that ain’t happening. My client and I need to discuss this matter privately. Then if she voluntarily agrees to let me release it, we might be able to discuss it while I enjoy a government-bought dinner. And at that time, you can take the time to brief me. Of course, goes without saying, I also demand no detail be held back from me. I am thinking surf and turf.” She beamed with a toothy smile.

  “You’re a real piece of work you know that?” Jackson said. God, he was about to flip.

  “Yes, I’ve been told. I choose to think of myself as a zealous advocate for my client. So, do I get my meal?” she asked leveling her gaze which spoke volumes of her stubbornness.

  Walking, more like lumbering, to the kitchen window he studied the landscape as he took some deep calming breaths. Was he waiting for wood nymphs to appear and tell him making a deal with the devil was inevitable? Finally, he turned around and agreed to her terms.

  “Then I trust my client will be agreeable to me sharing the information with you. See you tonight at Malloy’s at seven. Dress appropriately. You can get away with the shadow on your face, it gives you an edge,” she instructed.

  “Bring the documents. I’ll pick up the tab for your meal, but you’ll dine alone,” Jackson said pleased, thinking he had won the battle.

  “Um, I’m not the kind of lady that dines alone, Very Special Agent Evans. So, I’ll give you the documents after dessert.” She winked. God, she loved to win.

  “Christ save me. Seven tonight and you better have the papers,” he said and turned around to walk out.

  “Thanks for stopping by, Very Special Agent Jackson Evans. The pleasure I am sure has been all mine. Take care now,” she called after him as he let himself out slamming the door closed.

  Once he was out, I bombarded her with questions, and she pointed at the cameras mounted in the ceiling. “I’m not giving them jack shit for free. Listen all you want, boys.” Then she asked, “Why do you have a criminal defense attorney? Who is it? No, wait. We’ll talk later. You don’t want to ruin my free dinner. Holding back all this vital information breaks the friend code, but we’ll deal with that later.”

  She left right after Jackson, and I knew this battle was far from over.

  What a freaking morning. I needed something normal to take my mind off things, and cleaning would do it. I dragged the vacuum cleaner out and got ready to fire it up, when the doorbell rang.

  Nuts. I was barely ten feet away with nowhere to hide as I spied Detectives Marino and Chavez at the door. They could see me right through the glass, and looking around at all the FBI-planted cameras I guess the FBI spies spotted me on camera as well. Was there no place to hide? Busted.

  I looked like a mess and didn’t care. What do you expect when you don’t call before showing up at someone’s home? They would get my messy homeless-looking self.

  I unlocked the door, greeted them, and invited them into the living room.

  “Gentlemen, what’s up?” I asked as I waved them inside.

  “No Aunt Mary?” asked Chavez.

  “No, I’m sorry, but your number-one fan is back in Boston. Maybe you can Facebook friend her?” I suggested sarcastically and followed it with a smile.

  Detective Marino cleared his throat to gain my attention. “We have some news on the case.” He was always such a pill.

  “Oh, please take a seat,” I said throwing myself down on a chair. I tilted forward to take in the information Detective Marino came to give me.

  “We’ve identified the remains of the woman who has been passing herself off as you. The Massachusetts people thought she was a Jane Doe robbery victim, but we’ve confirmed she’s part of our case. We would like you to come to the morgue to identify her. I’ve got to tell you to prepare yourself because she is no doubt your doppelganger. The FBI and Mass police have passed her through all the data bases and her fingerprints got a hit through Immigration and Customs, and she is from Georgia. So not a relative,” he told me. “Agents O’Reilly and Evans are joining us there. We were right around the corner from here to pick you up, so we are your ride.”

  “Georgia? Why would Immigration be involved with someone from the Peach State?” I asked dumbfounded.

  “The country Georgia, not the state,” he said as if dealing with my inept grasp of geography was beneath him.

  “Oh, Eurasia Georgia. She was a long way from home. How did she die? Was she in an accident?” I asked.

  “Shot and dumped in the Charles River,” Chavez said. Just like that. Shot and dumped.

  “Oh my God! Shot? Was she the one shot in the car?” I felt my breath quicken and my heart raced. “Was she with Jude? Was he the one who did it? Or was he another victim?”

  “Nothing on Mr. White, and no, the wounds were not consistent with the ones on the driver’s side of the car,” he said. I wanted to ask more questions, but I knew I would not get answers.

  “Grab your stuff and let’s go. Everyone’s waiting,” he said.

  Dread crept up my spine as I stood to get ready to accompany the detectives to the morgue.

  Cillian

  THE ELECTRIC DOORS WHIRRED OPEN, and Jackson marched in like a man on a mission.

  Jackson was a hard nut to crack, a complicated man. As charming and relaxed as he was in his personal life, he was a tough, focused agent. His motto was no surrender. I had not noticed him this worked up in a long time. It was usually smart-ass people or babbling drunks which evoked this response. Since he had just now been at Emma’s and met Eloise, that had to be the trigger. Smart-ass.

  Jackson’s well-honed instincts picked up that I had questions ready. He raised his palm to wave me off. “Don’t ask, and don’t say a word. I’m taking one for the team tonight. Emma may have a document that will allow us to examine all White’s information without a court order,” he said.

  “Emma’s got you this worked up?” I asked. I found that idea preposterous.

  “Yes, and no. Technically, Emma is not in physical possession of the document but could ask Eloise to release it. But, she’s allowing that lunatic friend of hers to mess with me. What the hell is wrong with this world?” he huffed. He raked his fingers harshly through his hair nearly to the point of pulling it straight up.

  “What’s the document? Perhaps I can convince her to give it to us. I am so much prettier than you—and charisma, I have a ton of it,” I said batting my eyes and flashing him a fake smile.

  He immediately threw an annoyed look in my direction and continued. “Presumably, there is a trust that White executed when he registered the domestic partnership. It was Little Miss Know-It-All who drew it up, so she is aware that the terms it contains will probably help us. But the Jude White we see would never want, much less suggest, such a document. This whole thing makes absolutely no sense,” he said.

  “Well, since it’s a trust, I’m sure limits exist to trigger its use. Maybe it will help us, maybe not. But what’s got your briefs in a bunch?” I as
ked still unclear why he was angry.

  “That Eloise chick. What a nightmare! She’s holding the damn trust hostage until I not only buy her a meal tonight, but stay and eat with her while I tell her about the case. The woman is a miniature terrorist,” he said slapping the wall next to my head with his palm. A challenge had been issued to his no-surrender motto.

  “Now I see. You thought you had one-upped Miss Eloise. Turns out she not only gets information from you, but dinner too. It could be worse. I’ve had lunch with them, and she’s hilarious. Eloise is sharp as a tack. You’d better wear an athletic cup if you want to leave there intact,” I laughed.

  “We’ll see,” he said and paced.

  “While you were monitoring the cameras and running property searches, did you dig up any other assets that White owns?” I asked.

  “Something in Philly and two more assets showed up in Emma’s name. Something showed up in Luxembourg, and a property in London. I’m wondering if this trust document will shed any light on those, but I doubt it. I guess Luxembourg is a freeport or warehouse to store his art overseas and using that keeps it out of US jurisdiction. With that in mind, the one in Philly is the US-based freeport he uses to store stateside art. Maybe the terms of the trust will open the door to the Philly property for us to investigate,” he suggested.

  “Now. Why are we here in this place? Nothing firm on the woman until after the autopsy. But they did do an X-ray of the head, and there’s a bullet lodged in the brain. It also turns out she had surgical reconstruction done. Mainly nose, cheek, and jaw also probably breast reconstruction. Not much else, nothing extreme. We’ll have to wait to get an approximation of when the nose healed to figure a timeline of the surgery. Doc should be able to confirm if the surgery was performed to correct a fracture from an accident or for cosmetic purposes,” I said handing him a preliminary report of the X-ray.

  “I am dying to figure out where this woman fits in. Was she just a messenger to deliver money to safe havens for White, or was she a partner in the network? Have we been able to link her to Roselov, or was she working exclusively with White?” he asked and finally stopped wearing the floor down from pacing. “Oh, and those two girls missing from Cancun, one showed up dazed and sexually assaulted, but they were luckier than the Thailand girls. She said the last she saw her friend she was taken on a boat by two men. I don’t think this has anything to do with our Spain deal. But speaking of our Spain deal, there was some activity on moving the picture but it seems there’s a hold up with the money end.”