Hanging on a String Read online

  “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.”

  “Out of the blue?” I asked. “She just looked you up and found you ... after all of this time?”

  “She didn’t have to look me up. She works ... She worked for us.”

  “She worked for us?” My voice croaked.

  “Yes,” Raymond replied. “Irmalee was Chester’s alibi ... that is, until she accused him of sexual harassment.”

  I sat in my seat, stunned. My mind was whirling. Irmalee and Chester had known each other even before they’d started working at B&J? Was Irmalee lying about the sexual harassment claims, just as she’d lied when she’d given Chester an alibi? How was this all tied in with Lamarr?

  “Raymond, if you’d told this to the police, maybe Irmalee would be alive today,” I said when I finally was able to speak.

  He nodded his head. “I know this,” he said quietly.

  It’s hard to look at someone that you once loved and respected and feel revulsion. That was what I was feeling when I looked at Raymond. I know lawyers sometimes get a bad rap in their universal quest to win cases. I’ve witnessed lawyers who lied, backstabbed, and cheated, but in my experience, these folks were in the minority. Most of the attorneys I knew were upright citizens, even if they were high-strung. I knew Raymond was driven, but I never thought that he’d be involved in a cover-up. Even if Raymond believed that Chester was innocent when he’d been accused of rape, he’d kept that information secret from his partners, and more importantly, from the police. In his effort to protect the firm, Raymond had withheld information that could have prevented someone from losing their life.

  “You don’t have to look at me like I’m a monster. I already feel like a monster, Jasmine. If it’s any consolation, I know what I did was terrible. I’m going to the police.”

  He looked like a broken man, but I couldn’t waste my pity on him. Irmalee deserved my pity. Raymond didn’t. I got up and walked out of his office, without saying another word.

  A few minutes after I got back to my office, my secretary, Hernanda, informed me that my brother-in-law, Brooks, was waiting for me in the reception room.

  “Should I send him in?” she asked.

  “Yes,” I said reluctantly. Brooks was the last person I wanted to see, but there were some things that I needed to say to him, and in the mood I was in, I figured there was no time like the present.

  When Brooks walked into my office, I hardly recognized him. The calm, self-confident air of the man that my sister had fallen in love with was gone. Instead, a disheveled, clearly distracted man in rumpled clothes stood in front of me. The normally immaculate, clean-shaven Brooks was sporting at least three-days growth, and his eyes had deep circles underneath them. He looked miserable. Good.

  “Can I sit down?” he asked after a few moments of uncomfortable silence.

  I shrugged my shoulders. This was the man who had broken my sister’s heart. He could sit in hell for all I cared.

  I watched as he sat down, clearly uncomfortable in my admittedly hostile presence.

  “Why are you here?” I asked before his butt hit the chair.

  “I wanted to talk to you about Thea,” he replied. “I wasn’t unfaithful to her.”

  I fixed my deadly lawyer stare on his face. “She seems to think differently,” I said in a tight voice.

  “Well, she’s wrong. I would never cheat on her. I love her, and I love my family.”

  “Apparently, you’ve been spreading your love around.”

  Brooks dropped his head in his hands. “I did something stupid,” he said. “But I didn’t cheat.”

  “Look,” I replied, feeling no sympathy for him, “if you’ve got some sort of confession to make, you need to go find a priest. I’m Thea’s sister. You’re not going to get a sympathetic ear here.”

  Brooks raised his head and looked at me. There were tears in his eyes, but I was unmoved. Many a cheating man had shed tears; they meant nothing.

  “I never cheated with this woman.”

  I’d heard enough. “Brooks, I think you should leave.”

  “No, Jasmine. Not until you’ve listened to me.”

  I don’t know why I didn’t tell him that I was through listening to what I was sure was a complete fabrication, but there was something in his eyes, a desperation that I’d never seen before, that stopped me from throwing him out of my office.

  “You’ve got five minutes,” I said through clenched teeth.

  “This woman ... and I, well, we’ve been friends, and I won’t deny that there’s an attraction... .”

  I felt the anger inside me rise, but I kept silent.

  He continued. “Not for me. There’s no one else for me but Thea. But my friend Jesse, she’s under the mistaken impression that I’m going to leave Thea.”

  “I guess that’s what happens when you start sleeping with people outside of your marriage,” I commented. “Four minutes and counting.”

  “I did not sleep with her,” he replied. “We were friends. Nothing more.”

  “So you had a friend that your wife didn’t know about ... not until that friend writes you about obtaining your hand in marriage ... while you’re still married to someone else. She sounds like a class act.”

  “It was wrong,” said Brooks. “Inappropriate. Stupid. I was flattered by her attention. We had dinner a couple of times, but nothing happened. I realized how dangerous it was when she started showing up at my workplace... .”

  When would these men learn? Hadn’t any of them seen Fatal Attraction?

  “I told her that we needed to take a break from our friendship. She thought differently ... She thought that I’d led her on.”

  “You probably did,” I replied. “A married man going out to dinner with another woman ... She probably saw a future with you in a tux and her in a white chiffon dress, standing in front of a minister.”

  “You’re right,” Brooks said, his voice small. “I played with fire.”

  “And got burnt.” I finished the sentence for him. “Did you think about Thea at any point during this so-called friendship with the woman?”

  Brooks let out a long sigh. “Of course, I did. That’s why it never went further than it did.”

  “It shouldn’t have begun in the first place!” I snapped.

  “I know this. What am I going to do?”

  I was fresh out of answers. My sister lay on her back for five months to bring their child into the world, and this was how he repaid her? She’d moved to a new state for him. She’d given up her dream of getting her PhD to support his dreams of running the investment banking world. She’d stood by him and loved him, not for what he could do for her, but for who she thought he was—an honorable man. She was beautiful, smart, loyal, and too kind for her own good, and what had Brooks done in return? He’d started up a so-called friendship with an unstable woman and in the process destroyed his marriage. I had no pity for him.

  “Even if you didn’t sleep with her,” I told him, “you still disrespected my sister. It wasn’t just friendship, because then this Jesse wouldn’t be writing you about marriage, and showing up at your workplace. I’m sure you lied to her, just like you lied to my sister. You
don’t deserve Thea, and you don’t deserve Reese. Get out of my office. Time’s up.”

  He stood up, but before he left, he said, “No one’s perfect, Jasmine.”

  I didn’t have to think of an appropriate answer. “Maybe not, but Thea and Reese deserved better than you gave them. Don’t let the doorknob hit you on your way out.”

  I sat for a while in my office and stared out of the window. Even though the firm was falling down around me, I still had cases to take care of. Still, I couldn’t work up the energy to do anything except to sit and stare at the world outside my window. I felt a dull ache as I thought about my friend Lamarr. I missed his advice. I missed his company. I remembered how he’d warned me to watch the undercurrents in the firm. Had those undercurrents gotten him killed? It was looking more and more likely that this was the case. I’d heard from his sister, Maizie, that his family was going to have a memorial service for him in a few weeks. She wanted me to speak at the service. I wasn’t sure that I could do it, but I’d promised her that I’d let her know soon. Before she’d hung up the telephone, I’d remembered a question I needed to ask her. When I’d been in Lamarr’s apartment, I’d found a Yale yearbook. “Did anyone in your family go to Yale?” I’d asked. “No,” she’d replied. I then told her about finding the yearbook in Lamarr’s apartment. She’d thought that it was strange, because he’d never mentioned ever knowing anyone who’d attended Yale.

  I replayed Raymond’s conversation about Chester and the rape at Yale. Was there some connection? I got up from my seat and went over to my bookcase, where I’d placed the yearbook. Going back to my seat, I started turning the pages. Very shortly, I found what I was looking for—Chester’s graduation portrait. Why did Lamarr have this? I kept turning the pages slowly, not sure what I was looking for. It wasn’t until I got to a page in the back of the book that I noticed a picture around which someone had drawn a red circle with a pen. It was a picture of a group of three smiling cheerleaders.

  I looked at the faces and didn’t recognize any of them—not that I would. My only connection with Yale was that my sister had attended the institution, and that was some time ago. I looked at the names: Sophie Williams, Gemini Allen, and Christa Nettles. None of the names rang a bell. I spent the next hour or so trying to find information about each of the women on the Internet. I couldn’t find anything on Gemini or Christa, but there were about a million or so Sophie Williams and nothing to connect them with Yale University.

  The telephone rang, interrupting my thoughts, and I picked up the receiver automatically. “Jasmine Spain speaking.”

  “Hi, Jasmine.”

  My heart sank. It was my ex-husband. Good Lord, what was going on today? It was the three faces of the apocalypse. First, my deceiving boss, then my deceiving brother-in-law, and now my deceiving ex-husband.

  “What do you want, Trevor?” I got right to the point.

  He gave me a short laugh. “Why do you think I want anything?” he asked. “I might have just called to hear your voice.”

  “I doubt that,” I replied. “You only call when you need a favor.”

  “You called me the other day,” he said. “You sounded upset. I was worried.”

  This was a switch. It was true that I still called Trevor, or thought of calling Trevor, in times of trouble (a bad habit I was determined to break), but Trevor usually called me on one of two occasions—when he missed me (this was usually preceded by a few drinks of the alcoholic variety) or when he needed a favor. I’d heard through the grapevine that he’d hooked up with yet another girlfriend, so I knew that he wasn’t lonely. I could only guess that this call was about me doing something for him.

  “I read about everything that’s been happening with your firm. I just wanted to know if you’re okay,” he added.

  I was stunned.

  “Really?” I asked, unable to keep the surprise out of my voice.

  “Yeah, really,” he chuckled. “I’m worried about you.”

  I couldn’t help it; the words slipped out of my mouth. “What’s gotten into you?”

  “Damn, am I that bad?” Trevor laughed.

  “Well, let’s see. The last time you called me, you needed a loan—which, by the way, you haven’t repaid. Then, the time before that, you wanted me to lie to some woman and tell her that you never cheated on me. Then, there was the time you needed someone to walk your dog when you were out of town... .”

  “Okay, okay,” said Trevor. “I get it. No wonder you divorced me.”

  “Well, that’s water under the bridge, or however that saying goes.”

  “Look, I still care about you,” he said. “The divorce didn’t change that.”

  He’d never said this before, even when he was trying to have a late-night booty call (which I always rebuffed).

  “Are you dying?” I asked. “Did someone just tell you that you have three months left to live?”

  He laughed again. “How did I let you get away?”

  “You cheated on me,” I replied.

  “I vaguely remember,” he said.

  Unfortunately, the memory was not so vague for me.

  “But I want you to know that if you need anything ... let me know. The word on the street is that B&J is going under.”

  “That would be an accurate statement,” I said.

  “What’re you going to do?” he asked.

  “I don’t honestly know,” I replied.

  “Well, if you need money or anything ... let me know.”

  Okay, now I knew he was dying.

  As if he read my thoughts, he said, “I’ll always love you, Jasmine.”

  There was a time when these words would have meant the world to me. But although it was nice to hear, all I could think about was Marcus Claremont and how much I couldn’t wait to see him.

  “Thanks for the call, Trevor,” I said, and I meant it. I hoped that we were finally on our way to coming back to a good place. I’d hated him for so long, it was beginning to feel natural, and I didn’t like that.

  “Have a good day, Jasmine.”

  18

  Later that morning I called Marcus and told him what I’d learned from Raymond about Chester and Irmalee. He told me he’d look into it, and we’d talk about it later at dinner. In spite of everything, I was looking forward to dinner. I needed an escape from everything I’d learned that day, and I was sure that Marcus would be the perfect diversion. I spent most of the remaining morning and afternoon searching the Internet in an effort to get any information on what had happened at Yale those many years ago. I found some articles in a New Haven newspaper regarding a star athlete on the football team who was accused of rape. Most of the articles did not mention Chester by name, but there was one article that named him as a rape suspect. None of the articles named the victim. I didn’t learn anything new in the articles; they all confirmed that there had been an investigation, but the DA had decided not to press charges due to insufficient evidence and the presence of an alibi.

  I left the office early and headed uptown to change from my black suit into something a little more comfortable, and truth be told, something a little sexier. No one was home when I got to my apartment, but Thea had left a note stating that she, Reese, and Magic had gone up to New Rochelle to visit one of her college friends. She planned to spend the night and return the next day. I rummaged through my closet, trying to find something remotely sexy. I finally settled on some black slacks and a sheer white silk blouse. Some high-heeled sling-back pumps completed the picture. I had other things that were a little more daring, but I didn’t want to be too obvious. I’m not much for make-up, but I put on a little lip gloss and some mascara, and then called it a day.

  By the time I got to the restaurant, Marcus was waiting for me at the table. He stood up when I walked in. He was dressed in dark blue slacks and a white oxford shirt. He was smiling, and I found myself smiling back in return.

  “You look great,” he said as he pulled out my chair.

  “Than
k you,” I replied, breathing in his scent. He smelled like baby powder and something infinitely more masculine, something deep, smoky, with a hint of spice.

  He sat down across from me, and once again, I felt the surge of an instant attraction. The restaurant was crowded, a sure sign that the food was good. I’d eaten there a few times before, and I’d never been disappointed. But as I stared across the table at Marcus, food was the last thing on my mind.

  I cleared my throat. “Did you find out anything about Chester and this rape investigation?”

  A smiling waitress appeared at our table. “Can I get you something to drink?” she asked.

  “I’d like a glass of wine,” I replied. “A Chardonnay, please.”

  “I’ll have the same,” said Marcus.

  “I’ll be right back with a menu,” said the waitress.

  After she left our table, Marcus replied to my question about Chester. “I’m waiting to hear back from a friend of mine, a detective with the New Haven PD. The investigative file is off-site, but he’s trying to go through some old microfiche records to see what he can find.”

  Staring at Marcus Claremont across the table made it very difficult for me to concentrate on the task at hand, but I gave it my best effort.

  “So you said you had some things you wanted to talk about?” I asked.

  “Yes,” Marcus replied. “At first I thought that Mariah was involved in Chester’s murder, but now I’m not so sure. First, she has an alibi.”

  I remembered how Chester’s alibi had turned out.

  “Are you sure this alibi is legitimate?” I asked.

  “Airtight,” he replied. “She was at a prayer service for her son, with at least a hundred other witnesses.”

  “Maybe she paid someone to do it,” I said. “That’s always a possibility.”

  “Do you think she had anything to do with his murder?” he asked.

  “I’m not so sure,” I replied. After everything I’d learned over the past few days, I couldn’t vouch for anyone.