Playing Dirty Page 14

  “That’s what we need to find out,” the other agent interjected.

  “Well, we would normally have lunch a couple of times a week. But lately my schedule has been so hectic, I hadn’t been able to commit.”

  “Cut the crap! We know you two haven’t been on good terms since our investigation with Juan Alvarez went bust!” the taller agent insisted.

  “Well, if you know everything, then why are you here asking me questions?” I snapped.

  “Let us ask the questions, please,” the other agent spoke up.

  I stood there with disgust written all over my face. I wanted to tell these crackers to get out of my damn house, but I wasn’t trying to ruffle their feathers. I figured the best tactic to use would be to be nice and to cooperate so they could carry their asses away. “Look, I spoke with her less than forty-eight hours ago. We talked very briefly, and then that was it. I haven’t spoken with her since,” I explained.

  My mind was racing with thoughts. I didn’t know if I should tell them that someone mailed me Maria’s things. The way things were looking, they weren’t too happy with me because of Juan Alvarez. So I knew if I told them about the package, they wouldn’t believe me. They’d probably handcuff me on the spot and haul my ass down to their headquarters. They went strictly by the “arrest now, talk later” policy, and I wasn’t up for that one. I had just gotten out of jail, so I couldn’t stand for another overnight stay. And the way things were looking with this, there was no telling how long I’d be there with them.

  “Did Maria say where she was, when you last spoke with her?” the shorter agent asked. I thought about it for a minute and reflected back on our conversation.

  “No, as a matter of fact, she didn’t,” I said flatly.

  “Where have you been for the past thirty-six hours?” the taller agent asked.

  Shit! I thought. If I tell them I was locked up on other charges, it was bound to get back to Paul and the other attorneys. I would be a laughingstock, and these bastards right here would tell it all. So I hesitated for a second, trying to think of a good lie, but then I decided against it. Who was I kidding? These motherfuckers were going to check my alibi as soon as they walked out my front door. And when they found out that I was lying, they were going to really be down my ass then, and I couldn’t have that, especially when I hadn’t done shit. So, what was I to do? I definitely couldn’t tell them I had been arrested for possession of cocaine. After all, they were the DEA—so their next question would be, where did I get my drugs from? Now that was some heat I did not need.

  “You guys know that I am a defense attorney, so I’ve been back and forth to court, and I spent days at my office preparing for my upcoming trial,” I lied.

  It seemed like they were suspicious of me for some reason. They looked from me to each other, and then around my foyer. Both of them kept putting their arms over their noses; I guess they were smelling the same shit I smelled when I first came it. I had grown immune to it after being in the house for a while. But that fucking garbage was stinking. I was embarrassed as hell, but I just played it off. Ophelia was really going to get cursed out by me.

  I knew they wanted to ask if they could look around, but they didn’t. If they thought that I was some regular old lawyer, fresh out of law school, they probably would have coerced me into searching my house. But since they knew who they were dealing with, they didn’t try me. Not only that, I was very vague with them, answering only the direct questions that they asked. I was not volunteering anything. I definitely wasn’t going to tell them about Maria’s stuff until I could speak to her family. I avoided direct eye contact with them. I was always taught that lies shined through a person’s eyes.

  “Okay, Ms. Lomax, if you should hear from Maria, or think of anything or anyone that would help us, please call me,” the taller agent said as he handed me a business card. The other agent let his eyes rove around my foyer and down my hallway toward the kitchen. He didn’t look too comfortable with my answers, but he remained quiet and didn’t say another word.

  “I will definitely do that,” I assured them. “May I ask you a couple of questions before you leave?”

  “Sure, go ahead,” the taller one insisted.

  “When did you realize Maria had gone missing?”

  “Sometime after she had spoken to you,” he replied without hesitation.

  “But how?” I wondered aloud.

  “We aren’t sure.”

  “Have you spoken with her sister?”

  “No, we haven’t spoken with her, as of yet. But we have a few more agents parked outside her residence, even as we speak. So we’ll get her as soon as she arrives home.”

  “Kind of the same way you got me, huh?”

  “You can say that.”

  “Well, do you know where she could have gone missing?”

  “I’m sorry, but we don’t have the answers to those questions. I wish we did, but something will surface,” he said with assurance.

  Listening to the confidence level in his tone got me even sicker. I hadn’t put a shred of food in my stomach, but it sure felt like I had. My nerves were tearing me apart, and I definitely needed a hit of coke now. There were too many things being thrown at me at once and I couldn’t handle it.

  “Alright, gentlemen, will you please excuse me?” I insinuated that it was time for them to leave. I couldn’t take the pressure any longer.

  They both took heed and stepped toward the front door. “Don’t forget to call me if you hear anything,” the shorter one reminded me.

  “I won’t,” I told him, and then I let them out.

  By the time the DEA agents left, my entire body was drenched in sweat and I felt sick inside. If something had really happened to Maria, I wouldn’t be any good. She was basically the only friend I had, until this mess came about, and I would take all the blame. I just wished she would not have told me about Juan Alvarez and then we would still be cool. And who knows—we’d probably be somewhere having lunch and a few cocktails.

  When they left, I watched through the peephole as they got onto the elevator. When I was sure they were gone, I grabbed the box out of the closet. I poured out the contents and sifted through the items for a second time. That was when I noticed the silver rewritable DVD inside. I lifted it up and there were black words written in horrible handwriting, Play Me. I almost dropped the DVD.

  This shit had become scary now. Someone was sending me these things for a reason, and I knew that I wouldn’t find out what they were until I stuck the disc inside my DVD player and pressed play. It took me about three minutes to get up the gumption to do just that. When I raced into my living room and slipped the DVD into the player, I caught an instant headache. I grabbed both sides of my head, like I was about to pull my hair out at the roots.

  “Arrggh, what the fuck is going on!” I screamed, thinking about the huge possibility that I would find out what happened with Maria on this very DVD. And then a thought flashed before my eyes. What if she needed my help? I had to make sure she was okay. I finally decided to press play. My heart was racing at the speed of light and my palms immediately got sweaty. I tried to focus on the screen, but the picture was blurry. It wasn’t my flat screen that was off, it was the poor quality of the video itself.

  I took a seat on my sofa and waited for whoever filmed this crap to focus their camera lens. The first thing I saw was a note that the person with the video camera zoomed in on. The note was written on a crumpled piece of yellow legal pad paper, like the legal pads I used every day to take client notes. The note read:

  This recording has already been sent to the police and the DEA. Good luck defending yourself out of this one, Ms. Lomax, famous defense attorney.

  “What!” I reacted out loud, my eyes wide. That note made me fast-forward the video. I stopped when I saw what looked like the inside of my apartment being videotaped. As the camera moved from room to room, and as I watched more and more of the DVD, I realized it was the inside of my apartment!
There was video of my bedroom, just as I’d left it, my bathrooms, my kitchen…and that was when I noticed her.

  I pushed back onto my couch at the sight of her. My mouth hung open and goose bumps came up all over my skin. It was Maria! “No!” I screamed. Tears immediately invaded the surface of my eyeballs.

  Maria was tied to a chair in my kitchen. My heart thumped so hard, I couldn’t breathe. I started coughing. I kept my eyes glued to the screen; I couldn’t move. I was stuck. I watched as a tall female, with long black hair that looked just like mine, walked over to Maria and slapped the shit out of Maria’s face.

  “Mmmm,” Maria groaned under the duct tape that covered her mouth. I could see tears in Maria’s eyes. I watched the female as she moved. She really looked like me from behind, even down to her height, her walk, and her shape. The impersonator was wearing my red Chanel suit, the one I’d worn the day I was shot in front of the courthouse—what I’d saved as my “bad luck” suit. I was astonished. I had to do a double take myself.

  The impersonator on the tape slapped Maria again. Maria’s head bobbled like it would break off from her neck. Maria struggled and wriggled against the thick nautical rope. I had to watch closely, because the female even had on my shoes and jewelry. The unknown female walked over to Maria and said something to her…but I couldn’t hear it. I fumbled with my TV remote, trying to turn up the volume. Finally I turned it all the way up, but I still couldn’t hear anything. Then Maria’s voice resounded through my apartment. “No, Yoshi, don’t do this to me!” she screamed ferociously.

  I hurried to turn the TV back down. I could never tell who might be in my hallway listening. I was panting for breath now. I felt light-headed and sick to my stomach. By now, on the DVD, Maria continued screaming as the woman on the tape walked toward her. The impersonator covered the screen with the back of her; then the camera zoomed in on Maria’s face.

  I could see the fear in her eyes as tears crowded up in her eyes and fought to fall down her face. The female was back, her face obscured from the screen, just her body showing. She grabbed Maria’s hair roughly and wrenched Maria’s head back. “Mmmmm!” More muffled screams came from Maria from behind the thick wads of tape covering her mouth. Her head lurched back again, and next a sickening gush occurred. Then blood splattered all over the camera, and the television screen suddenly went black.

  “Nooooo!” I screamed. I couldn’t take it and I leaned forward and threw up all over my carpet. I couldn’t breathe and the room was spinning. I couldn’t think. Maria had been murdered right in my house by someone dressed as me! I’d watched as she begged for mercy with her eyes. She had been my friend since college days and now was gone. The only person who understood me had been killed right in my fucking house!

  Weak and wobbly, I held on to the walls and hesitantly walked down the long hallway inside the penthouse toward the kitchen. I was afraid of what I might find, but I had to know. As I reached the threshold of the kitchen doorway, the smell hit me like a boulder, knocking the wind out of my chest. Again I lurched over, and I threw up. I was weak, but some force beyond me propelled me forward. I peeped into the kitchen and that’s when I saw it. Blood everywhere—all over the walls, the floor, and the counters.

  “Aggggh!” I screamed. My world was spinning and my vision became blurred; the next thing I knew, I passed out.

  I wasn’t aware of how long I was out, but when I came to, I opened my eyes to the sunlight. It was the next day. I scrambled to my feet and thought about calling those DEA agents who had come to my house. But what if they already had the DVD? I had to weigh my options very quickly. What chance did I stand to defend myself? I was damned if I did or damned if I didn’t.

  If I ran, I would look guilty. If I stayed, I would be charged with murder—there was no doubt. I was the last person she’d spoken with. I was sure her phone records proved that, and the DEA already believed that. And what was even worse was that her fucking murder took place in my house. I had no fucking chance in hell. I had to get the fuck outta Dodge. Shit was really falling apart.

  At first, I thought I should clean up the kitchen. At least, when the police or the DEA agents came back, they wouldn’t find the evidence right there. But then I thought about it. How would I get that amount of thick arterial blood up from ceramic tiles? The blood was sure to be soaked through the grout by now. I was fucked! I decided that I wasn’t going to try to clean up the massive amount of blood; that would’ve taken all day. I just had to go—go and never come back.

  Then I thought about Ophelia. What if she reported to work and decided to call the police when she saw all of that blood? I couldn’t let that happen, either. I had to call her and tell her I was leaving and not to come by. My entire body was shaking. I didn’t even know how I was still standing.

  I rushed into the bedroom, grabbed my phone, and dialed Ophelia’s home number. The phone barely rang once and someone answered it.

  “Ophelia?” I called out when the line was picked up.

  “My mother is not here,” her daughter answered.

  “Is she on her way to work?” I asked.

  “Is this a cruel joke?” her daughter sneered.

  “What do you mean?” I asked, confused at her reaction.

  “The homicide detectives haven’t contacted you?”

  “For what?”

  “My mother was found dead two days ago! She left home earlier in the morning to catch the bus so she could get to work, but she never made it!” Ophelia’s daughter began to sob uncontrollably.

  “Oh, my God, how could this be?” I said, tears beginning to stream my face.

  “She’s gone, Ms. Lomax! She’s gone!” her daughter screamed louder.

  I couldn’t take all the crying and the emotions behind it, so I hung up the phone. Not only that, I really didn’t know what else to say to the girl. Ophelia was dead? What the fuck? That can’t be right! I questioned it over and over as I stood with the phone in my hand in a daze. People were dropping dead around me, so I was beginning to feel like I was in the middle of a horror film.

  At the same time I was still in utter shock about Maria. Was I like a disease? Maybe whoever killed Maria also killed Ophelia. Oh shit, maybe that is how the killers got my key to get inside my house. They’d killed Ophelia to get into my house! The poor woman had died because someone was trying to frame me—so there was no way I could stay here. I took a deep breath and said a silent prayer. Then I grabbed a bag and began throwing some clothes together.

  I dumped Maria’s stuff into the bag that I was taking. I wasn’t going to leave it behind; that would just make things worse. I couldn’t afford for the police to find that shit in my house. It was bad enough that it looked like I murdered her right in here. I started moving through the house like a lightning bolt. My nerves had fucked me up.

  I didn’t have a concrete plan on what I would do, but I had a stash at a bank in West Palm Beach. All I had to do was make it there, get my money, and go. Where I would go was still a mystery, but West Palm Beach was only a couple of hours away. All I had to do was hop a car service to the bus or the train. I didn’t want to take my car and leave it parked at the station where it would certainly get stolen or vandalized. I frantically grabbed as much as I could. I definitely couldn’t go anywhere without some of my fly shit. My closet was too massive to even try to take a third of the clothes and shoes I owned, but I needed some. So I took several of my newest pairs.

  Just as I began to walk out of my closet, I remembered Sheldon Chisholm and the serious looks on the faces of his henchmen who had visited me earlier. They’d warned me sternly that I needed to go see Sheldon, but at this juncture I couldn’t. I had too much shit going on right now. My career and my life were at stake, so I needed to get away so I could think of a way to regain control. I had to get away so I could figure out some shit. I needed to know who was trying to destroy me. Most important, who was behind these murders?

  I knew I had taken Sheldon’s money, but it
would truly be impossible right now for me to show my face in court to represent him. Maria’s agents surely would arrest me. I could see them having a fucking field day, handcuffing me in the middle of one of my trials. News reporters would be all over that story and I would be the talk of the town. How would I be able to get myself out of that one? Paul and the rest of the attorneys at the firm would turn their backs on me. It seemed like they needed the smallest reason to do so, and this would be the icing on the cake. So to shield myself from any embarrassment right now, I was gonna have to bail out of town.

  I couldn’t tell you where I was going after West Palm Beach, but I could tell you that I would be heading north. Perhaps I needed to hide out at one of my relatives’ houses on my father’s side. Virginia would be the last place anyone would look. No one knew about them but Maria, and now she was dead. My mother wouldn’t be able to speak about them, either, because she wasn’t in her right mind. That was a blessing in disguise.

  “I’ll leave before anyone has a chance to realize I am gone,” I told myself out loud. I was leaving and I was never coming back. I’d have to leave my lavish lifestyle behind. But I was fine with it, because I figured with the money I had stashed away, I could build another one. Perhaps get my face reconstructed if shit got really hectic. All I wanted to do was stay alive and keep my freedom. I didn’t care how much it cost or what means I had to go through to do it. I had to think about me and only me. And that’s exactly what I intended to do.

  The Setup

  I stood in front of my elevator, literally ready to piss on myself. I was that nervous. Here I was running from a crime I didn’t even commit, with no fucking way to prove that I didn’t do it. I mean, who would murder the only friend they had in the world? That shit made no sense. I didn’t even have time to mourn for Maria—although my heart was in pieces over her murder. It was my fault, too.

  From the DVD I could tell whoever murdered Maria wanted revenge on me—this shit was the setup. She had been used as a pawn in a game to take me down—but why? I knew people were jealous of me, but this was taking it too far.