Deadly Satisfaction (27 page)

As the night drew on and the temperature dropped, Phillip put more wood on the fire and they returned to their spots in front of the fireplace. Donetta was overjoyed that Phillip had fed her soul, but now she needed to feed her stomach. She eyed the sandwich still sitting on her plate that had gone untouched for the last two hours.

“Are you okay?” Phillip asked.

“No, I'm so damn hungry I could eat paper right now.”

She and Phillip shared their first laugh together since the night before, and it felt better to Donetta than the warmth coming from the fire.

“Let's dig in,” Phillip said. “I think you'll like it. I make a hell of a sandwich.”

“I can't wait to find out!”

Just as Donetta was about to stand up and reach for her plate, Phillip pulled her into him and delivered the softest, most gentle kiss to her lips, another first they'd shared since last night. He held her close to his chest with a tight hold that nearly made Donetta lose her breath. Slowly, he looked into her eyes and smiled.

“I love you, Donetta.”

“I love you, too.”

They shared another passionate kiss, this time longer than the first, and then they devoured their sandwiches by the light of the fire.

G
ENEVA

E
ven though Geneva had been snowbound like most of the residents in Amber, the last three days had flown by in a flurry of activity at her house. After their lights had gone out a few days ago, she and Samuel had come to appreciate what a valuable commodity electricity was, especially given that they had a baby and houseguests to deal with. Geneva's main concern had been how to keep Gabrielle warm and fed, and Samuel's main focus had been keeping his wife worry-free, his child safe, and his parents comfortable.

Geneva had also been worried about Donetta. After the power outage had caused her to cut her conversation short with Charlene Harris on Thanksgiving Eve, Geneva had pulled herself together and called Donetta to tell her that Phillip was Charlene's son. But her call had gone to Donetta's voice mail, so she'd left her friend a message, telling Donetta what she'd learned. Geneva had figured out from her conversation with Charlene that Phillip was already at Donetta's house, snowed in, and she prayed that if Donetta decided to tell him about her background, that it had gone well.

Geneva had worried that entire night, and all Thanksgiving Day, because she hadn't heard a word from Donetta. But she'd breathed with relief later that night when Donetta had called her and explained the roller-coaster ride that she and Phillip had taken. Geneva had been happy when she'd heard the excitement in her friend's voice.

“We're officially a couple,” Donetta had said. “It's not picture perfect and we've got hurdles to overcome, but it's a beginning.”

“No relationship is perfect,” Geneva replied. “The main thing is that you were able to tell him the truth and he's accepted it. Honesty is the bedrock of any relationship, and now that you've established that, you can work through the rest.”

“You're right, and I have to credit his mother for raising him to be the type of person he is.”

Geneva admired the councilwoman even more knowing that Charlene had given Donetta and Phillip her blessing. Donetta had talked to Charlene by phone, and Charlene had told her that while she had certain concerns about Donetta and Phillip's relationship, as any caring parent would, she would nonetheless support them as a couple in any way that she could.

Geneva had wanted to call Charlene back to tell her about the blue box that Johnny had had the night he'd been murdered, but she decided against it because the woman had been dealing with more pressing issues. As an elected official, Charlene had to manage and respond to the concerns and complaints of frustrated, snowbound residents. She'd been providing support for her daughter—whom Geneva had learned from Donetta—had dropped out of medical school, was pregnant, and would be back in Amber living under Charlene's roof. And all that was on top of learning the news that her playboy son had been reformed by a trans woman. When Geneva added all those things together, she knew that her story about a blue box in a dream about a dead man could wait a few days until things calmed down in Charlene's life.

Now it was Monday morning, and Geneva and Samuel were at the airport. His parent's early morning flight was still running on time, and Samuel was inside the terminal, making sure they got their bags checked and tickets assigned, while Geneva sat in the parking deck inside their SUV, feeding Gabrielle her breakfast. She didn't know if Joe was at the airport or stuck in his hotel room because they hadn't heard from him since he'd left the house, and after the havoc he'd caused, no news seemed like good news. No one worried about Joe because if there was one thing he was good at, it was looking after himself above anyone else.

Geneva thought about how ironic it was that Phillip and her in-laws were scheduled to leave on the same flight. When she'd talked to Donetta last night and had learned that his Sunday morning flight had been rescheduled to today, she'd told Samuel's parents, who'd said they would make sure to be on the lookout for him at their gate so they could introduce themselves. As Geneva held Gabrielle while she fed her a bottle, she wondered if Phillip would actually make it to the airport at all.

Donetta's neighborhood had been hard hit, and snowplows had been scarce. Donetta had called Geneva this morning and told her that she'd kissed Phillip good-bye on her steps as she'd watched him make his way through the snow in the early morning darkness en route to his car, which was still parked off her exit. Donetta had also told her that Phillip didn't have the use of his cell phone, and Geneva said she'd already told her in-laws he was on their flight and they'd let him use their phone so he could call her and let her know he was safe.

Geneva smiled as she looked at her baby and thought about the fact that no matter how complicated situations could become, having people in your life whom you loved and who loved you back, made everything worthwhile. After all the emotions she'd experienced over this holiday, she was thankful that she'd had her family and that she'd come so far—and that made her think of Johnny.

Geneva burped Gabrielle and put her back in her car seat as she drifted off to sleep. “I guess I should call Charlene now and finish telling her about the blue box that the real killer took after she murdered Johnny.” She hit speed-dial on her cell phone.

C
HARLENE

C
harlene was glad she'd survived the holiday weekend, which had been no small feat considering the onslaught of drama she'd dealt with. Her fellow city council colleagues had nearly buckled under the pressures that had resulted from the massive snowstorm, but Charlene had looked at it as child's play when compared to the real chaos that had been brewing in her personal life.

Charlene had been driven to drink and even take sleeping pills as she'd tried to deal with the stress of Vivana's claim of new evidence. She'd tipped the scales of stress after she'd e-mailed Shartell, asking the gossiper to contact her because she had a juicy scoop for her, only to sit by her computer without receiving a reply. That was when Charlene knew for sure that Shartell was probably already at work on a story about who really killed Johnny Mayfield. Then, if that hadn't been bad enough, Geneva had called her on Thanksgiving Eve and told her about a dream that Charlene knew had to be real because she'd lived it. Geneva had abruptly hung up when her lights had gone out and had never called back, which Charlene hadn't been too concerned about because she'd had bigger concerns.

For Charlene, the threat of life in prison took a backseat to the happiness of her children. Lauren and Phillip had each come to a pivotal crossroads in their lives over the weekend, and Charlene had had to put her own issues to the side to help them get through it.

Charlene had spent each day and night talking with Lauren about her and her unborn child's future, and slowly, the reliable, focused, and determined young woman whom Charlene had raised, started to return. Because Lauren had packed everything she owned and brought it home on the plane, there was no need for her to return to Baltimore, so Charlene had helped her get settled in for the long haul. She'd even called her good friend and OBGYN, Dr. Valerie Bell, and scheduled an appointment for Lauren on Monday morning, right after her meeting with Leslie Sachs.

Charlene had actually become more concerned about Phillip than she'd been about Lauren. Her daughter would be under the same roof with her every day, and she'd be able to keep a watchful eye on her so she could help when needed. But Phillip lived a plane ride away and had become involved in a relationship that would force him to come up against hurdles of discrimination that neither his nor Charlene's legal background would be able to protect him from. But even with that challenge, Charlene found comfort that her son was in love with someone who possessed good character and a kind heart, and for that she was grateful.

 

Now it was Monday morning and she was about to have one of the most important meetings of her life, and although Charlene was tired, she was ready for battle. Because she didn't know how the roads would be once she got out and she didn't want to run the risk of going back and forth in the snow, she decided to have Lauren ride with her and stay in the car with the engine running while she met with Leslie. Then after what she knew was going to be a short but intense conversation, she'd head over to Dr. Bell's office to make sure her grandchild was progressing nicely.

“Are you okay, Mom?” Lauren asked from the passenger seat. “You look tired.”

“I'm fine, baby,” Charlene replied. “I just have a lot on my mind, but I know that everything will all work out.”

“I really appreciate everything you're doing for me, Mom.”

Charlene smiled. “That's what mothers do, as you'll soon see.”

Charlene came up to a four-way intersection. As she looked in all directions, she tried to anticipate some of Leslie's questions. She turned down the street that led to Leslie's house and felt her stomach jump. Leslie had called her an hour ago and asked Charlene to come to her house instead of the coffee shop.

“Are you able to get out of your neighborhood?” Leslie had asked after she'd labored through the niceties of post-holiday greetings.

“Yes, my street is passable. How about yours?”

“My street is fine, however, there's a five-foot snowdrift blocking my garage,” Leslie had said. “But that's not the issue.”

“What do you mean?”

“My garage is on the side of my house where the snow hasn't been plowed, so I can't get out.”

“Would you like to reschedule for later in the week? The weather won't be an issue then.”

“No,” Leslie had said in a definitive tone. “Charlene, the matter I'd like to discuss with you regarding the new evidence I've uncovered in the Mayfield murder case is of particular concern to you, for legal reasons, and as you know I can't discuss it over the phone. Can you come to my house at the scheduled time?”

Charlene had known since last week that Leslie was going to try to trap her in a web, and now she'd confirmed it when she pulled up to Leslie's house and saw that the woman's garage was in plain view, and the huge snowdrift that Leslie spoke of had been shoveled to the side. Charlene even saw tire tracks leading from where Leslie had obviously driven her car out.

“Mom,” Lauren said with a quizzical look on her face, “I thought you said you needed to meet Ms. Sachs at her house because she couldn't get out, but look.” Lauren pointed her finger toward Leslie's garage. “The snow is gone and her garage is clear.”

Charlene measured her breathing in an effort to remain calm because she didn't want Lauren to know how she really felt. “I see. I guess she must have gotten some help from one of her neighbors.” She unbuckled her seatbelt and reached in the back seat for her handbag. “This shouldn't take long . . . ten minutes, tops, and then we'll head over to Dr. Bell's office.”

Instead of being a nervous wreck as she'd been last week, Charlene was steady as a rock as she walked up to Leslie's door. She had her game face on and she was prepared to hit every ball Leslie threw her way. She rang the bell and waited.

“So glad you made it safely, Charlene,” Leslie said as she opened the door. “Please come in.”

Charlene entered, and intentionally stepped over Leslie's monogrammed doormat, purposely neglecting to wipe her feet. She smiled with satisfaction as she watched Leslie's eye twitch when she saw the mess that Charlene's dirt-covered boots left in her wake. “Looks like the situation with your garage got taken care of.”

Leslie nodded. “Oh, that. Yes, one of my kind neighbors came over right after I called you and offered to shovel it for me.”

Charlene knew that Leslie had just told her a lie, but she also knew that this conversation was going to be about lies and deceit, so she didn't waste her time debating the obvious.

“Let's talk in my study.” Leslie pointed to her right and led the way. “I love being at the front of my house,” she said. “I'm all about easy access.”

Leslie sat behind her desk as Charlene took a seat in the ultra-plush chair in front of her. The chair was so inviting and comfortable that Charlene almost forgot that she was on guard. This was one of Leslie's tactics, making people feel comfortable as she went in for the kill. Charlene looked around Leslie's office, which looked more like a glammed-out walk-in closet than a home office. Now Charlene understood why the TV camera had zoomed in so closely on her during her Saturday morning interview. They hadn't wanted to include the shoes, handbags, and jewelry Leslie had displayed in her built-ins throughout the space.

“I know this isn't what you expected,” Leslie said with a grin. “But like I said, I like easy access, and since I spend more time working in here than in any other room in the house, I can work late, fall asleep on my couch, and then get dressed and head out to the garage, which you can see is easily accessible, snowdrift and all.”

“What new evidence do you have?” Charlene asked, getting straight to the point.

Leslie grinned. “You know that one of the first things we learned in law school was never to ask a question in court that we didn't know the answer to,” she said slyly. “Well, we're not in court, but I think you already know the answer, and you know that Vivana Jackson is innocent of the murder of Johnny Mayfield.”

Charlene crossed her legs and flipped her foot so the dirty snow on her boot could drip on Leslie's pristine cream-colored rug. “And how would I know that?”

Leslie didn't flinch. “Because you killed him.”

“You must be out of your mind.”

Leslie shook her head. “Cut it out, Charlene. I didn't call you over here to play games.”

“You most certainly did, Leslie. Otherwise you would've gotten in your car and driven to the coffee shop the same way you did before I got here.” Charlene's eyes narrowed in on the scone and cup of coffee on Leslie's desk. She'd frequented the Whole Bean Café enough to know they were the only coffee shop in the city that served their one-of-a-kind, homemade lemon-poppyseed-blueberry scones. Charlene knew that Leslie was meticulous and careful, and that she'd left the food there on purpose.

“Admit that you killed Johnny Mayfield.”

“As I said, you must be out of your mind.”

Just then Charlene's phone rang. She'd talked to Phillip earlier that morning when he'd called her before he left Donetta's house. He'd told her that Geneva's in-laws were on his flight, and that he'd use their phone to call her once he reached his gate. Charlene pulled out her phone, intending to make sure Phillip had made it there safely and then shut Leslie down before walking back out the door. “Excuse me. I need to take this call from my son.”

But when Charlene looked at her screen, it was Geneva's name and number that appeared. Charlene had told Geneva that she was going to meet with Leslie this morning, so she knew Geneva was probably calling to make sure. The last thing Charlene needed was for Geneva to take it upon herself to contact Leslie, so she answered her call. “I'm in the middle of something, I'll call you back.”

“Are you meeting with Leslie Sachs?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you so much, Charlene. I can't tell you how grateful I am to you,” Geneva said with gratitude in her voice. “I won't keep you, I just wanted to tell you one more detail I remembered from my dream that I think is proof that Vivana didn't kill Johnny.”

Charlene's heart started beating fast, but she remained as cool as a fan. “Okay.”

Geneva spoke quickly. “Right before Johnny was murdered in the kitchen, he'd been sitting on the couch in the living room looking through a decorative blue box, like the kind you get at craft stores, and it was filled with photos, plus a few DVDs and a burner phone. He was still holding the box in his hand when he walked into the kitchen. When I finally walked into the room the killer was leaving, and I noticed the blue box was gone. Whoever killed Johnny has that blue box, because it contained the evidence.”

Charlene immediately regretted that she'd answered Geneva's call, because she'd been thrown off her game once again, and this time Charlene didn't know whether she could recover. Geneva had been accurate in all that she'd told Charlene up to now. After Charlene had killed Johnny, she'd looked around the kitchen to make sure she hadn't left any evidence behind before fleeing the scene. She was certain there hadn't been a decorative blue box anywhere in the room, since that was something she couldn't have missed. “Thanks so much, I'll call you back,” she said in a strictly-business tone. Charlene slid her finger across the phone and hung up on Geneva as she tried to refocus. When she looked up, Leslie was staring into her eyes with a maniacal expression on her face.

“Your phone call almost caught me off guard,” Leslie said. “But lucky for me I added some extra time into my plan to account for any unforeseen mishaps that might arise.”

“What are you talking about?”

Leslie looked at her watch. “The camera crew will be here shortly, and once they call the police this entire messy ordeal will be over.” Leslie pulled a gun from her desk drawer, aimed it at Charlene, and smiled.

“What the hell is wrong with you? Why're you pulling a gun on me?” Charlene said in terror.

“Because I'm going to kill you.”

“Leslie, put the gun away,” Charlene said, mustering what little calm she had left. Slowly, she looked out the corner of her eye to see if she could run in a zigzag motion past Leslie's collection of clothes and shoes so that the crazy woman wouldn't have a straight line of fire. But something caught Charlene's eye that made her blood suddenly run cold. Sitting off to the side on Leslie's shelf was a decorative blue box, right next a pair of red heels. Charlene's mind immediately went to what Geneva had told her, and then to Leslie's Saturday morning interview.

Charlene had memorized every word that Leslie had said and every movement she'd made during her interview in an attempt to gain some insight into what the cunning woman might have been planning. Charlene remembered that at one point during the interview when Leslie had talked about the new evidence, she'd looked off-camera to the side, as if something had caught her attention. Now Charlene knew that Leslie had been looking at the blue box, and she'd probably been gloating because she had the evidence right there in the room. But Charlene couldn't figure out how that box had come into Leslie's possession. Charlene jumped when she heard Leslie bang the butt of the gun against her desk.

Leslie smiled and began to twirl the pistol in her hand, showing that she was adept with the weapon. She changed her smile to a smirk as she set the gun down on her desk, making sure to rest her hand atop the handle. “Bravo, Councilwoman Harris. I see the wheels turning, and you're trying to figure out how the blue box ended up on my shelf after you carelessly forgot to take it with you after you shot Johnny.”