Family Issues Ch. 13

Marianne glared at her.

"It's Helen Brion's. Please explain, if William, as you said, didn't buy into Helen's claims and figured she was the person stealing his money, how come he fired everyone except her?"

–-

"Mr. O'Brien," Ginger said.

Kevin stared across the courtroom at Helen.

But as for the cowardly, the faithless, the detestable, as for murderers, the sexually immoral, sorcerers, idolaters, and all liars, their portion will be in the lake that burns with fire and sulfur, which is the second death.

His biological father, Pastor Roy, loved to quote Revelation. It placed murderers and liars in the same afterlife boat, and Kevin was about to tell the lie of a lifetime.

"Mr. O'Brien." Ginger snapped her fingers. She strongly objected to his plan, saying he could end in jail for his stunt. It took two days to convince her he was doing it with or without her consent.

Everyone lied, and their lies painted Helen as something she wasn't. Why couldn't he lie too?

The mythical northern Valkyries chose those among the slain who were Valhalla material. Kevin's Valkyrie was life, not death. He gazed across the courtroom, and their eyes met. Helen's lower lip trembled, but when he caught her eye, a sudden smile curved up her cherry lips. He would go to the gates of hell for this woman, so jail was no biggie.

"Mr. O'Brien, I hold in my hands a CCTV image taken from the Comfort Inn's lobby on the sixth. Do you recognize this person?" The footage they downloaded from the Syndicate's database showed Dima and Brigitte from the back. Dima had Kevin's height and slim physique, and the Russian Lace Boy shared his blond spikes. The lie was plausible if one could only observe Dima from the back.

"That's me."

"Are you sure?"

"It's me in that picture. I came to see Helen. Like she said, I scheduled the meeting."

"But Helen said you never showed up."

"I come from a very religious family, ma'am. I grew up inside a deeply conservative region. I was taught that being intimate with a futanari is a grave sin. We simply don't do things like that, and straying makes you a pariah. A gay couple in my hometown was shot by religious fanatics. Everyone heard about the Army of God trial three years ago. That's where I'm from." Kevin took a deep breath. "Helen lied. She wanted to protect me, even at her own expense."

"I see. So, you and the defendant spent your day together in the hotel room?"

"Yes."

"What time did Helen leave?"

"Eight, just like she said."

"But Ms. Anderson says she met Helen at the office at eight."

"Marianne is lying. It's a half an hour drive from the Comfort Inn to the office."

–-

"Are you seriously trying to convince me that you and the defendant were lovers?"

"I'm not trying to convince you of anything. I'm telling the truth."

Larry regarded Helen, then tried to outstare Kevin. As the day progressed and Ginger chipped away at the prosecution's arguments, the public prosecutor seemed to slowly deflate, like a balloon with an air-leak. Kevin's lie poured color back into his cheeks.

"So you're saying that you and the woman who extorted you became a couple? That you suffered some sort of Stockholm Syndrome?"

"She never extorted me—"

"We've already been there. She forced you into a relationship with her sister, but now you're saying that it wasn't enough? She wanted you for herself?"

"Will you let me explain, please? Because it feels like you're trying to put words in my mouth instead of asking me questions."

"Go right ahead."

Ginger told Kevin that Larry's father was a retired attorney with an almost legendary reputation. Public prosecutor, despite the Hollywoodish halo, was the least-paying job a law-school graduate could land. Perhaps, just like Kevin, Larry was struggling to find his own path under his father's shadow. Perhaps everyone did.

"Helen never forced me to do anything. She had no idea I couldn't afford to pay my debt, and I was too embarrassed to share my family issues with a stranger. She told me she never even considered I'd take the deal. Helen only offered it to patch things up with her sister. Once I took the deal, she regretted offering it. It was a rough start between us, I won't deny it. But time went by. We lived together in the same apartment. And, and...and it happened."

Larry turned to the jury, opening his hands. "Just happened?"

"Helen is warm, shy, generous, and she has a gentle soul, and I couldn't help falling for her."

"Did the defendant or someone in her name force you to say those words?"

"What? No!"

"Mr. O'Brien, the defendant is behind bars." Larry tried a different approach, changing his tone to what he believed was parentally supportive. "I know she can be manipulative, but she cannot harm you, not anymore. Did the defendant force you to meet her in the hotel so she'd have an alibi? And let me remind you, son, you're under oath."

Son? Kevin had more than enough fathers. He gazed beyond Larry, and his eyes found the love of his life again. "You're seriously asking me this?"

"Your Honor, please instruct the witness to answer the question."

"You think I've invented my love for her?"

"Did you?"

"You're saying she's behind bars, and she can't touch me, and all I can think of is that she's behind bars, and I can't touch her. That I'm about to lose her forever. You're aiming your guns at her, but you only need a single bullet to kill us both. Because if you convict Helen for something she didn't do, then you can close this whole show for all I care. Everything. This place, the city, the stars, the moon, the sun, and the ocean. You can fold the ocean with all the fish and the dolphins and throw it behind bars with everything else that I love. Because if I can't share them with her, then I really can't see the point."

He risked another peek at Helen. The love of his life stared back at him with wonder.

"I hope that answers your question."

–

Kevin found Ginger sitting on the stairs outside the courthouse trying to light a cigarette. Her hands were shaking so hard, she failed every time.

"Everything cool?"

"Yeah, yeah," she blushed and dropped the cigarette. "I shouldn't be smoking, anyway. I took ages to quit, and the smoke kills my voice."

"Something happened?"

"No, no, yes. Something good. Good news. Excellent news, actually. Jason Abramson, Larry's assistant, came to see me a minute ago. Larry wants to cut a deal."

"Meaning?"

"It means he thinks he'll lose. He wants to reach a plea bargain. Voluntary manslaughter instead of first-degree murder. Three to eleven years, and Larry is bendable, and Helen is a war hero."

"In human language?"

"Four years and then Helen will be eligible for parole."

"And you told him to go fuck himself?"

Ginger shook her head slowly.

"But we're winning. It's Marianne's word against Helen's word now, and no one believes a word coming out of Marianne's mouth."

"The jury probably thinks Marianne is part of the conspiracy, but we still haven't proved that Helen didn't murder William. Her fingerprints are on the murder weapon, just hers and William's. No one else's. And frankly, each time the jury look at Helen, they see this emotionless statue. The less time she is on the stand, the better."

"That's just her defense mechanism. She's sensitive, and she's scared, but if you take the time and give her a chance—"

"They are her jury, not her support group." Ginger tore the cigarette and tossed it into a can. "Kev, your testimony might have tipped Larry's decision, but it's full of holes. Give him time, and even an idiot like him might find them. It could backfire bigtime. Convincing the jury is not an exercise in computer science. There are no guarantees."

"What are you saying?"

"That as her lawyer, it's my duty to advise her to take the deal. She'll be out in four years."

"A convicted murderer for a crime she didn't commit." Kevin's elation turned to numbness.

"I'm so sorry, Kev, but this is our best bet."

"Four years, you say?"

"I'll pressure them for a white-collar prison. Nothing hardcore like Alexander."

"If that's a wise choice, I'll...I guess I'll have to wait for her."

"You're okay?"

"Four hours ago, she had a ticket for a life in prison, so four years is really no biggie." He wiped a tear that escaped his attempt at stoicism.

Ginger surprised him when she stood up, wrapped an arm around his shoulders and pulled him close, gently rubbing his arm. He sank into the warmth of her side, appreciating the simple gesture. "I'm so sorry, Kev."

"We did everything we could."

"No, I've never asked your forgiveness for that night. The stupid sorority party. You were Mike's friend, and I was so angry with Mike, and I wanted so bad to get into Alpha Pi. I thought it guaranteed a good salary in the real world. And I thought you wouldn't mind because...I've made so many stupid excuses for treating you like crap. But there was no excuse; I used you. It was selfish and so ugly."

"Water under the bridge." Kevin's voice was soothing. "I forgave you long ago."

"And you were right. It's not about a 100K or a 200K salary, it's the people you care about. I...I told you how my dad was a janitor in Brooklyn?"

"Yeah."

"My mom worked as a cashier her whole life. Money was always an issue. Constant fighting. How come she spent so much, and how he never earned enough. My mom hated my dad's incompetence, his lack of ambition. But she was always too scared to leave because she still relied on the little he could provide. It tore us apart as a family, and I was always so terrified I'd end up like them. Poor and miserable because of it. But it's no excuse for being a selfish bitch. I'm so sorry, Kev."

Kevin nodded. "Yeah, me too. I was always terrified I'd end up like my parents too."

–-

Four years. Minus the time Helen already served. The clock started ticking.

Kevin imagined a giant clock on a prison wall. For some reason, time stood still in that clock, and he banished the image. He would visit her. Every day if possible.

He was so immersed in his dark thoughts that he didn't notice the giant black woman who stepped up to the urinal next to his until she pulled out a dong the size of a baseball bat.

Madam Hulk let out a sigh as she fired a golden stream. "Fuck, I never understood urinals with ice cubes."

"You mean you like drinking your piss warm, Cecilia?"

"Smart."

"I saw maybe fifty cops outside; all I need to do is scream," Kevin said.

"All I need to do is twist your scrawny neck."

"Nadine might be pissed."

"Someone wants to see you." She placed her massive palm on his back. "Be a good boy, and there will be no neck-twisting and no Nadine pissing."

He stepped outside, Madam Hulk keeping a firm hand on his shoulder. He scanned the shadows, searching for an opportunity to bolt. She led him down a corridor into an unoccupied courtroom. "Go! She's waiting inside."

"Nadine?"

"Just go."

Two goons waited for him by the door. A Native American and a sumo wrestling type. Both towered over him; both had muscles to spare and a nasty gloat that dared him to try anything—they'd love it. Nothing he wasn't used to after living in Nadine's mansion. The sumo guy frisked him. Kevin didn't mind. His eyes fixated on the woman waiting in the middle of the room.

She was the first girl to ever say she loved him, and he never said those words back to her.

"Hi, Diana."

"Hey, Baby Butt."

"You look...loaded, yep, that's the word. You look rich."

His ex-girlfriend wore her fancy dress like a second skin and enough jewelry to buy a small country.

"I'm doing okay."

Kevin snickered.

"You like?"

"It doesn't change who you are."

"I'm rich. That's what I am. That dress is a Saint Laurent, it costs 16K. The handbag is a genuine Stalvey, it cost me 20K. The shoes are Prada, they cost only 3500."

"They can't cover your personality."

"No, they just make me look really good on the outside, which is really what counts."

"How come you and Helen even carry the same genes?"

Diana shrugged.

"So how is life at the top? This is what you always dreamed of, no? Being filthy rich. No one to look down on you. No simple guard on duty to belittle your Maserati."

"It's nice."

"So, you're what now? The syndicate's money launderer?"

"I'm richer than Helen ever was or dreamt of being."

"Helen is about to go to prison because of you. She has nothing."

"Tell her I'm sorry."

Kevin growled and raised his fist. The Indian-looking goon reached under his coat, but Diana signaled for him to relax.

"I'm sorry that it ended that way," she said.

"I guess it makes everything fine and dandy, then."

"I guess it doesn't."

"How could you?" Kevin had to convince himself that blowing up wouldn't help. "Helen always loved you. She never asked for anything. She gave you everything you asked her to."

"Except respect," Diana hissed.

"That's your excuse for selling her? And for what? Money."

"You know why I did it."

"To make sure I'd stay."

"We do crazy things when we're in love. You of all people should know."

"In love?" Kevin snorted. "You're sick. I forgot how much fun it is to argue with you. Like banging my head against a brick wall."

"I remember a time when you loved banging your head against this wall."

"Are we done, Diana, because I've got places to be?"

"I'm a wanted criminal." Diana pulled an envelope out of her Stalvey handbag. "There's a warrant for my arrest."

"Yeah, I know."

"I'm going down south, across the border. I thought I'd ask if you want to come with."

"Sure."

"Was worth a shot." Diana grabbed his neck before he could resist and pulled him over for a tender kiss. When it ended, she nuzzled his neck. "Almost forgot how good you smell. Had to do one for old time's sake. We were amazing together."

"We were terrible together." He gently unwrapped her hands from his neck.

"I guess you and Helen make more sense."

"I love her."

"You know, I could see it coming from miles. If you feel you need revenge, just think how fun it was for me to watch you two stumble into each other's arms. Like watching an inevitable train wreck that's about to run you over. She'll need this." Diana gave him the envelope.

"What's that?"

"I found it in one of Suzan Owens' safes. The old hag didn't do sex or drugs; her kink was watching. She kept so many videos... even some that she should have burned."

–

"Come in."

Judge Henley's office was an ode to law and disorder. Law books stacked the shelves, overflowing. Row after row of neatly lined-up books covered the rugs and snaked around the room like walls made of paper and leather. Ginger navigated through and skipped above them. The elderly judge slouched, disrobed, in a comfy chair in the middle of his messy kingdom, his legs up in the air, resting on a small table. Larry sat rigid in the opposite chair and looked even more miserable than usual.

"Sit down, have a drink." The judge opened a small drawer. "Scotch? Larry told me you're willing to settle, and I believe it's a wise choice. I must tell you I was impressed—" He stopped in mid-sentence when he registered the look on Ginger's face.

"Before we cut any deal, Your Honor, you two must see this." She held out a USB flash drive. "I've just received it from...well, you can call it an anonymous tip. Mike, I mean Michael, says it can be easily verified as legit because cameras have fingerprints."

"What is it?" the judge said.

Ginger inserted the flash drive into his desktop computer. "The Richardson and Williams offices' stolen CCTV video from the night of the murder."

The movie popped on-screen and Ginger immediately forwarded to eight o'clock. It showed several hallway cameras, including footage just outside William's office.

"Who is that?"

"Suzan Owens, the missing board member," Ginger blurted. "Watch this."

The video showed Suzan entering the office and starting what looked like, even devoid of sound, a heated conversation. It showed William violently getting up and grabbing her collar and the stab that followed.

Ginger paused the video and enlarged the image. "See that? He's holding the knife, and she holds his palm. That's why there were no fingerprints other than his and Helen's on the handle. I think, I think she didn't mean for it to happen."

The judge nodded.

"Watch this, now it gets even more interesting."

Suzan went out of the office, then returned.

"She's scared."

The tall futanari on the screen pulled out her smartphone.

"Who is she calling? If this was a mistake, how come she's not helping him?"

Ginger fast forwarded fifteen minutes.

"Oh," said both Larry and the judge simultaneously as Marianne Anderson entered from the elevator. The women met in the hallway, then checked on William's office.

"And all this time he was bleeding in there. Manslaughter or possibly self-defense turned into murder." Judge Henley frowned. "Where are they running to?"

"To hide in Marianne Anderson's office. Watch this—they pulled the room's blinds and turned the lights off. They heard the elevator coming up."

The footage showed Helen entering the office. She was talking on the phone and looked over the darkened room, where the two women were hiding. Helen paused in the hallway, visibly agitated by the conversation.

"I knew Helen didn't murder William," Ginger said," but I wondered how it was pulled off. It wasn't. Just Helen's rotten luck. She was at the wrong place at the wrong time. Quick thinking by these two. I believe it was Marianne who decided they could pin it on her. At least we know she called the emergency services and Mr. Durham."

On the screen, Helen opened William's office and immediately dropped to her knees trying to save him. Outside in the hallway, Suzan Owens slipped out of the office.

"That's it. You know the rest." Ginger paused the movie. "You can take this film to an expert, in case you think it's a fake, Larry. But we both know it's legit."

"Wow." Judge Henley wiped sweat from his brow. "In my entire career, I've seen nothing... wow. First things first." He pressed his intercom.

"Security."

"Hey, Dwight, this is Russell Henley. Is Marianne Anderson still sitting in my courtroom?"

"I'll check."

"If you find her, correction, when, when you find her, please arrest her immediately. I'll have the warrant signed in a jiffy."

"What about Helen?" Ginger said.

"Do you even need to ask?"

"Oh my God, Larry." Ginger slapped Larry's shoulder. "You dropped something."

"What?"

"The charges."

–-

"I'll never be able to pay you back, Ginger. But at least I'll compensate you for your time once I get my bank account back."

Kaplan and Decker's founders' portraits stared down from the office walls. Ginger's firm was 190 years old, and she was willing to bet that those harsh men looking down at her once owned real slaves. She sure was glad that everyone had already gone home. Her boss would freak out if he knew she refused hard cash.

"I did it for Kevin. Anyway, if I take your money, Mike will never let me hear the end of it."

"I'll be more than happy to have you represent me in the fraud trial."

Ginger shook her head. "The FBI won't be pressing charges. I talked with the clown in charge of the investigation; we've been talking a lot this past month. He doesn't like me that much, but he hinted that it took Marianne fifteen minutes to sign a deal. She already cleared you of any suspicions, and she named five FBI agents who'd sold out to the syndicate. A guy named Brian Thompson is behind the dongle disappearing from your computer. The name rings a bell?"

"Not really."

"He was working for your sister."

Helen was too emotionally exhausted to deal with the implications.