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Authors: Janette M. Louard

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BOOK: Hanging on a String
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Wallace walked around his desk and sat down on his chair. He closed his eyes for a moment, and then he said, “I want to talk about it, Dahlia. I need to talk about it.”
Despite his agitated state, Wallace's voice was flat and unemotional. He spoke in the same tone of voice he might use when reciting names from a telephone directory.
“Irmalee told me that she was worried about her own safety, right after Chester died. She said that the day before Chester died, Raymond had come to see her about the lawsuit.”
I should have known that Raymond knew about the lawsuit.
“Was a lawsuit actually filed?” I asked, forgetting the cardinal rule not to interrupt a witness when he's giving you information.
“No,” replied Wallace. “Everything was drafted and set to go, but Irmalee started getting nervous, and she told me to hold off from filing the complaint. Raymond and Chester both knew the complaint was coming, and Raymond was worried. Chester didn't appear too nervous; he had beaten that charge once before, and at that particular time, Raymond was his attorney.”
I broke the rule again. As far as I knew, Raymond only had met Chester when he'd applied for the position with B&J. I knew in the past two years no one had filed sexual harassment charges against Chester; that information was too hot to keep quiet for too long.
“Are you talking about what happened back at Yale?” I asked Wallace, thinking back to the story Dahlia had told me about the crazy college student who claimed that Chester raped her.
“Yes,” replied Wallace. “That woman that went crazy. He beat that rap, and Raymond helped him. At the time, Raymond had just graduated from the law school, and he took the case. I don't even think Raymond had taken the bar yet, but he was a smooth talker, and his smooth talk got Chester home free, as it were. So, I guess Chester figured that Raymond got him off once before. He wasn't too worried.”
Raymond had never told me that he knew Chester while he was at Yale, let alone defended him from rape charges, and Raymond had never told me that Irmalee was about to file sexual harassment charges against Chester. What else had Raymond neglected to tell me?
“Anyway, Irmalee was running scared,” Wallace continued. “Said Raymond had threatened her. According to Irmalee, Raymond had hinted that she would be sorry if she went forward with the lawsuit. And Irmalee heard some story that Raymond had killed someone. Irmalee said that Chester told her this. Of course, I didn't believe it. After all, Raymond may be many things, but he's no killer.”
I remained silent, but I could feel Dahlia's eyes on my face. It was not a good feeling.
Wallace went on. “After Chester died, Irmalee told me that Raymond went to visit Chester the night he died. Irmalee was there that night, trying to talk to Chester about the lawsuit. Or that's what she said. If you ask me, she was trying to talk Chester into taking her back. She said she left Chester's house while Raymond was talking to Chester.”
Apparently, Chester's chauffeur must have missed the arrival and departure of Irmalee the night Chester died. Or, he had just neglected to mention it.
“Did Raymond know that she was there?” I asked Wallace.
“Irmalee didn't think so, but she was scared just the same. She said they were arguing about something, but she wasn't sure. She was hiding in Chester's bedroom, and she let herself out of the town house.”
In Chester's bedroom.
“They were still sleeping together even though Irmalee filed a lawsuit for sexual harassment against Chester?” I asked.
“A momentary lapse in judgment,” replied Wallace, “that Irmalee didn't live long enough to regret. She was convinced that Raymond killed Chester, and she was convinced that her own life was in jeopardy.”
“Did the police know about this?” I asked.
“She wanted to go to the police, but I told her to wait. She didn't have any evidence that Raymond did what she thought he did, and Raymond is not a man you want to piss off.”
“You mean, you didn't want to jeopardize your case,” I said, understanding quite clearly the reason Wallace wanted his client to shut up. “You didn't want Irmalee to go to the police and tell them what she knew because she would have to tell them the whole truth, that she was there with the defendant in her sexual harassment suit on the night before he was murdered. That would not have helped your lawsuit, would it have, Wallace?”
“No,” he said unhappily.
“You figured you could still sue the firm, as well as Chester's estate, isn't that right, Wallace?” I asked.
He nodded his head, but he had the good sense to at least look sorry about it. “If Irmalee hadn't listened to me, she might be alive today.”
Dahlia got up from where she was sitting and walked around Wallace's desk. She leaned over and put her arms around him. “Wallace, you don't know if there is anything you did that either caused or contributed to what happened to Irmalee.”
“I killed her,” said Wallace, sobbing now, “just as surely as if I was the one who cut her throat!”
The door opened, and Esperanza swept inside like an avenging angel.
“You all have to bounce!” she said, her eyes determined. “I won't have you upsetting Wallace. He's been through enough without you two so-called friends coming in to upset him some more. I ain't having it!”
I watched as Wallace disengaged himself from Dahlia's arms. Wiping his eyes, he seemed to gain his composure in Esperanza's presence.
“I'm okay, sugar bear,” he said, dropping all pretense that there was only a professional relationship going on between him and his receptionist. “They're only trying to help.”
“Don't believe the hype,” was Esperanza's comment as she walked over and stood beside her man, pushing Dahlia aside in the process. “They are just tryin' to get information!”
Wallace patted Esperanza's hand hurriedly; it was obvious that he didn't want his girlfriend to say too much. “Hush now, sugar bear. I'm fine. Stop worrying about me.”
“If I don't do it, who will?” declared Esperanza. Then she turned and faced me. “Wallace told me that you work with Raymond. Did he send you here, searching for information?”
I was so taken aback by her hostile words that I didn't reply immediately.
“Wallace ain't got nothing to say to neither one of y'all. It's time to bounce, Miss Things, or I'll call the po-lice and have them bounce y'all for me.”
Threats have never worked with me. “Go ahead and call the police,” I said. “I'm sure that your sugar bear has a lot to say to them, starting with why he didn't come forward and report information that was relevant to a murder case.”
I watched as little beads of perspiration popped all over Wallace's forehead. “Jasmine, Esperanza doesn't mean anything,” he said.
“Well, tell her to watch her mouth before she tries to threaten me again.”
I heard Esperanza mutter “bitch” under her breath, but I didn't respond. I was inclined to agree with her assessment.
“Wallace, do you know anything about what happened to Lamarr?” I asked.
Wallace shook his head. “That one even stumped Irmalee. She was convinced that Raymond had a soft spot for Lamarr, but Irmalee did say that Raymond knew a lot about what was going on. She didn't believe that Lamarr had an OD. She just didn't know why Raymond would want to hurt him.”
“Hold it,” I said, sounding weak to my own ears. “We don't know that Raymond was involved in this.”
Esperanza snorted, a nasty sound. “Girlfriend, you must be dumber than you look. Your boss is involved in this mess.”
“Come on, Jasmine,” said Dahlia, who had apparently had enough. “Let's get out of here. You got what you came for.”
I looked over at my best friend and shook my head. I got much more than I bargained for, I thought, much more.
17
I said good-bye to Dahlia after we left Wallace's office. I was heading to the subway station, intent on taking the train to work. I needed to talk to Raymond, and a quick phone call to Raquel, the B&J receptionist, yielded the information that Raymond had just called the offices and was expected in momentarily. My cell phone rang, and I answered automatically.
“Jasmine speaking.”
“I certainly hope so.”
Immediately, the sound of Marcus Claremont's voice brightened what was fast becoming a dreary day.
“For someone who claims that they're not stalking me, you're giving me the distinct impression that the opposite is true,” I said.
“Well, I'll put it this way,” Marcus replied. “I'm not stalking you now, but after my investigation is over, all bets are off.”
Honestly,
I thought, annoyed with myself,
it shouldn't give me so much pleasure to talk to someone I hardly knew.
Well, I had kissed him, and what a kiss that was. But as Marcus had already rightly determined, that kind of interaction with the sexy Marcus Claremont would have to wait for a later time.
“You've tracked me down,” I said. “May I ask why?”
“As much as I do love hearing your voice, there actually is a purpose for this call.”
“Which is?” I asked.
“I thought you'd like to know that Mariah Brown was arrested last night.”
“What?” I asked. “Why? What happened?”
“Slow down. I'll answer all of your questions,” said Marcus. “She was arrested at your client Lucius Pileski's house, and she was carrying a gun. I think the prosecutor is going to charge her with attempted murder, in addition to B and E.”
I was speechless. It wasn't that I was particularly surprised that Mariah would snap, but I didn't think that she'd actually try to kill Lucius. What was everyone drinking in the water in New York? When did killing become an acceptable method of settling beefs?
“Look,” Marcus said. “Do you think that we could meet later on today? Maybe for dinner?”
“Are you asking me out on a date?” I asked, clearly confused. I thought we'd determined that any hanky-panky was off limits until the investigation was wrapped up.
“No.” Marcus laughed. “I just want to talk to you about some things in this case that I can't quite figure out.”
“I don't see how I can help you,” I said. “It's not like I have a degree in law enforcement.”
“That's true,” said Marcus. “But something tells me that you've been sticking your very pretty nose in some specifically law enforcement business. Maybe two heads are better than one in this case. Let's meet for dinner tonight. I talk better when I'm well fed.”
“Hmmm ...” I said. “Sounds like a desperate ploy to see me.”
Marcus laughed again. “Well, any excuse to stare into those beautiful brown eyes is a good one, but I do actually want to talk to you.”
“Detective Claremont, stop flirting with me... .”
“It's Marcus, and I can't help myself.”
“I bet you say that to all the lawyers ... particularly defense counsel.”
“Believe it or not, I don't, as a tendency, butter anyone up, especially lawyers. For the record, you're the first attorney, plaintiff or defense, that I've asked out to dinner.”
“I'm flattered,” I said. And I was.
“So will you go to dinner with me tonight?” Marcus asked.
“Are you sure this isn't a date?”
“No, Jasmine. It's not a date.”
“Okay,” I said. “I admit that I'm intrigued, and there's some stuff I need to talk to you about.”
“Jasmine, I know you won't listen to me, but please be careful. Three people from your firm have already met with an untimely end, to put it mildly. I'd hate for you to join them before I get a chance to sweep you off your feet.”
“I'm not the sweep off the feet kind of a lady,” I told him.
“That's because you've only just met me.”
“Arrogant,” I said.
“Confident,” he replied. “Can you meet me at seven? Do you know where Saba's Ethiopian Café is, on 122
nd
and Lenox?”
“I'll be there.”
“Jasmine?”
“Yes?”
“Don't be late.”
I had a ridiculous grin on my face long after the phone call ended.
 
The first thing I noticed when I entered Raymond's office was that he appeared to be packing up his files in the boxes strewn around the room. The next thing I noticed was that he wasn't wearing a suit. In all the years I'd known him, even when we'd had Saturday meetings, Raymond had always worn a suit. Today he was wearing blue jeans and a light blue shirt open at the collar, an ensemble that looked as foreign as his now half bare office.
“What are you doing?” I asked him.
“Well, hello to you, too, Jasmine,” he replied. He sounded weary.
“Hello,” I said distractedly as I found the only chair that didn't have folders or boxes on it. “What are you doing, Raymond? Why are you packing your office? You're not leaving, are you?”
I already knew the answer to all of my questions, but sometimes I have to actually state the obvious. I knew that Raymond was leaving the firm. I think I knew it from the time he told me about his other life. I knew then it was good-bye, but I wasn't ready to let my mentor, and more importantly, my friend, go.
“I'm leaving, Jasmine,” he replied. He stopped putting the files in a box on his desk and stared at me.
“Raymond, don't run,” I said. I knew that I sounded like a pleading child, but I couldn't help it. “I know you didn't kill Chester or anyone else. You need to stay here and fight. I'll help you. I'll do whatever I can.”
Raymond gave me a tired smile. “Not everyone is like you, Jasmine,” he said. “I know that you don't believe in giving up.”
“And neither do you.” I was trying to reason with a man who, from the looks of it, already had one foot out the door. “Raymond, you're a person of suspicion in this case. I'm sure of it. If you leave now, it'll look like you're guilty.”
He sat down on a corner of his desk. “I know that.”
“Then why are you going to do something so foolish?” I asked.
“I'm not leaving the country, Jasmine. I'm not even leaving New York. I'm leaving the firm. I gave Darrel and the other partners my resignation this morning. It was unanimously accepted.”
I'd wondered where the other founder of the firm, Darrel Johnson, had been over these past few days. I hadn't seen him at the office. “Darrel accepted your resignation?” I asked.
Raymond gave me a dry laugh. “He had no choice.”
“Where's he been?” I asked. “I haven't seen him around since Chester was murdered.”
“Keeping a low profile,” Raymond replied. “Darrel isn't one for conflict or controversy, but now he's going to have to step up.”
I liked Darrel well enough, but he didn't have the charisma or the stamina to hold this firm together, and I told Raymond as much.
“At this point, B&J is a sinking ship. He has to be the captain. There's nobody else to fill his shoes.”
I digested this news in silence. I loved B&J, it was home to me, and now I knew that I was going to have to find a new home. The firm would never survive without Raymond.
“There's a bunch of articles in the daily papers today, articles about me, about who I really am, articles about the mismanagement of funds. Clients have been calling left and right, asking to have their cases transferred to other law firms. It's over, Jasmine. The fat lady has sung.”
“I'm sorry, Raymond,” I wanted to walk over and hug him, but I knew that if I moved, I would burst into tears. As much as B&J meant to me, it meant even more to Raymond. I was watching a man whose entire life was falling apart around him.
“Me, too,” he replied. “Me, too.”
“So what are you going to do?” I asked.
“I'm going to pack up my office, and I'm going to walk away.”
The lump in my throat was growing. I knew that Raymond viewed tears as a sign of weakness. He'd told me this on more than one occasion. But I couldn't help the tears that were starting to run freely down my face.
Raymond cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable. “Come on now, Jasmine. Don't start crying all over my files now,” he joked feebly.
I wiped my face with the back of my hand. “I can't help it, Raymond.”
He cleared his throat again. “If you don't stop, you'll have me bawling, too.”
I gave him a small smile, but the tears continued. We were silent for a few minutes; then he spoke.
“There's something I need to tell you,” he said.
I wiped my eyes again.
“Irmalee had threatened to bring a sexual harassment suit against Chester shortly before he died,” Raymond's voice sounded as worn and weary as he looked.
“I know,” I replied. “Wallace told me all about it.”
“Well, not many people knew about it. Darrel knew and so did Nina. Apparently, Chester confided in her ... among other things. Anyway, Lamarr knew about it. I think Irmalee told him about it, and that's how I found out. I told Darrel ... but as far as I know, no one else knew ... When did you find out about this?”
“Today,” I said. “I was coming to talk to you about it. Why didn't you tell me this before?”
Raymond stood up and walked over to the window in the corner of the room. He let out a long sigh. “I'd hoped that with Chester's death, none of this stuff would come out.”
A chill raced up my spine. I'd been convinced Raymond had nothing to do with Chester's death. Now I wasn't sure.
Raymond saw this in my eyes.
“I didn't kill him, Jasmine,” he said.
I wasn't so sure.
“There's something else I need to tell you,” he continued. “I met Chester years before, when he was at Yale.”
I waited to hear what I was certain was a bombshell.
“I represented him when he was accused of rape.”
“Raymond, I already knew about that—although I don't think that too many other people had that information.”
Raymond walked back over to his desk. “That's why I didn't want it to get out that Chester had been sued for sexual harassment. I knew that eventually the rape case would come out, and it would ruin both of us.”
“What happened in the rape case?” I asked, wondering if there was any connection between that case and Chester's murder? I knew that I needed more information about the rape case.
“It never went to trial,” Raymond replied. “The DA didn't press charges. Chester had an airtight alibi, and the girl who accused him had serious mental problems. She'd been diagnosed as a schizophrenic.”
I felt my whole body grow cold, because in my heart, I knew that Chester had raped that girl. I don't know why I was so certain, but I was, and I was equally certain that Chester had gotten away with it—with the help of Raymond.
“What about DNA testing?” I asked. “Did the DA follow those leads?”
“This happened a long time ago,” he replied. “I'm not sure the alleged victim was even given a medical exam. She reported the rape several months after it supposedly happened.”
“The alleged victim,” I repeated his words. “Raymond, this was a person ... a human being, and Chester raped her.”
“You don't know that,” Raymond replied, but he didn't sound as if he believed the words that were coming out of his mouth.
“Why did you want a man like that in the firm?” I continued. “You knew what Chester was capable of.”
“Like I said, he had a strong alibi,” he replied. “And that was many years ago.”
“An alibi?” I realized that my voice was suddenly flat.
“Yes, an airtight alibi. He was with someone at the time of the rape.”
“That's mighty convenient,” I said. “And you checked out this alibi?”
“Yes, I did. I had no reason to doubt the lady in question. . . not until much later.”
My heart started to hammer in my chest. I knew that whatever Raymond was going to say was going to be nothing short of a bombshell.
“The lady in question recanted her story a few weeks ago. She told me she lied to help him. She also told me that Chester had confessed that he'd raped the student.”
BOOK: Hanging on a String
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