Chapter 10
August 12
Vanna kept her hands tightly folded as she sat in the guest chair across from Jovani’s black lacquer desk. As an annoying coincidence to already feeling like she was going to be in the hot seat, the weather was suffocatingly humid on this bright and sunny Monday morning. Thankfully, the air conditioner in Jovani’s office suite was fully operational. Otherwise, she might’ve been a puddle of sweat. As it was, anxiety had her heart thumping, and she was about to rub the skin right off her own hands.
“Your husband—”
“Ex-husband.” She quickly corrected Jovani as he began to speak.
After he’d let her into his office since it was too early for any of his staff to be in, he’d ushered her to this seat, and they’d exchanged the initial pleasantries. Jamaica hadn’t lied: he was fine, with a honey complexion just a shade darker than hers, a full and healthy black beard, and close-cut hair. He wore navy-blue dress pants, a baby-blue dress shirt, and a white tie with faint navy-blue stripes. The jacket that completed the expertly tailored business suit was neatly draped over the back of his chair.
Jovani looked up from the files he had spread open on his otherwise sparsely decorated desk with one brow raised. “I didn’t see a divorce decree in my file. Naomi is usually very thorough in her background research, but we were operating within a short time span.”
Vanna shook her head. “We weren’t officially divorced, just separated for five years.”
“Okay,” he said, and reached into a black mug with the word His in a thin font across the front to pull out a pen.
She gnawed at the inside of her lip as he scribbled that information onto the bright-white legal pad.
“At the time of his death, Caleb had been working at the Lennox Casino,” he said. “Did you know that?”
“Yes,” she replied.
“How did you know? Were the two of you still close even though you were separated?”
“No.” She forced herself to take a breath, then began again. “We were cordial whenever we saw each other. He called or texted me every few weeks, wanting to meet up and talk about our relationship. But I was over it, so I never accepted any of those invitations.”
“When was the last time you saw him?”
“A few months ago, I guess. It was after church one Sunday, at the Cheesecake Factory. He was on a date, and I was with my friends.” She wondered if Caleb had known then the trouble he was getting her into.
“And how did you know he was working at the casino again?” Jovani asked.
He’d slipped on a pair of gold-rimmed glasses after he sat across from her. They added a scholarly look to his otherwise GQ aura. Now he stared through them at her with a pointed glare.
She sighed. “I think he told me or one of our mutual friends.” She thought about it for a moment. “Yeah, a woman at my grandmother’s senior building used to live next door to Caleb’s mother, so she knew me from the times when I would be over there. I was visiting Granny one day, and Ms. Evelyn mentioned that Caleb was doing good and that he had a steady job at the casino now. That was right before Christmas, because she was sitting by the bulletin board in their community room, and I remember the garland somebody had tried to tape up there was falling down.”
“Good memory,” he said. “I have a hard time recalling what I had for dinner two nights ago, let alone remembering something almost nine months ago.”
She shrugged. “Conversations tend to stick with me once I think about it a little.”
He sat straight up then. “Ever have a conversation with Caleb about stealing money from the casino?”
Her eyes widened. “What? No! Is that what they think I did?”
“Charging documents state you conspired to plan and execute multiple robberies from the Lennox Casino. Didn’t they give you a copy when you left the station last week?”
“I stuffed them into my purse as soon as I got into my grandmother’s car,” she said. “I went home, showered, and went to bed after that. Then, the next morning, I talked to you, and you said to put it out of my mind until today. So I did. I focused on my friends, my birthday celebration, my ...” Her words trailed off then because she was certain he didn’t need to know that a portion of her attention this weekend had thankfully shifted to finding some much-needed physical pleasure.
“On what?” He nudged.
She cleared her throat. “I had plans with my friends Friday and Saturday nights; then it was the Women’s Ministry anniversary at church yesterday, so we had to sing.”
“What church do you attend?” he asked, and she blinked at what felt like a random question.
“Glory Sunrise Baptist,” she replied.
“Yeah,” he said with a deep nod. “I know that church well. My uncle is the pastor at Greater Hope, so I grew up there. We may have celebrated some usher anniversaries together back in the day.”
She smiled. “Okay, I know that church. We probably did.” Her next breath came a little steadier, her heartbeat just a tad slower, as she started to relax. Which she figured was Jovani’s intention in that quick diversion from the subject.
“Look, Caleb and I weren’t beefing, but we weren’t best friends either,” she said. “He went his way and I went mine. We were married for fifteen years, together two years before that. A lot of people know us as a couple, so even after the separation I still get unwanted updates on his life. But that was the extent of our connection.”
“Good to know,” Jovani said, and scribbled on the legal pad again. Then he set the pen down and sat back in his chair.
“Three months ago, there was an armored truck robbery that went wrong. Two guys pulled up on the truck; driver got spooked, started shooting. Killed one and wounded the other. Cops got a hit on the dead guy’s prints—prior robberies, some drug arrests. They link him to a previous codefendant, find that guy and question him. Codefendant rolls ’cause he’s not built for real jail time, even though he’s now looking at a felony robbery and handgun charges because of this last job. That codefendant named Caleb and a few of his coworkers at the casino as being part of the plan.”
“What?” Vanna whispered, although she didn’t need any of the words repeated. “Was all of that in the charging documents too?” If so, she definitely needed to dig those papers out of the bottom of her purse and read them.
Jovani kept watching her. “No. Right after our call last week, I had my staff start to investigate. The cops gave us minimal information, but we’ve got a lot of ears on the street. This was the fourth robbery of this kind.”
She felt herself shaking her head, but everything else was a blur. This office, Jovani, the words—everything just seemed to melt and mold into one big ball of disbelief. “I didn’t know,” she finally said. “I didn’t know about any of this.”
His elbows rested on the arms of the chair, fingers steepled and touching his bearded chin. “There’s a checking account at the Freedom Financial Credit Union in the names of Savannah L. Carlson and Caleb J. Carlson. That account has a balance of $173,000. In the last six months, there’s been a monthly deposit of $25,000.”
“No,” she said, her voice steadier. “No. I signed the paperwork to get my name off that account right after we separated, five years ago. I had it notarized by the paralegal in my office. My name shouldn’t be on any accounts with Caleb’s.”
“You didn’t go into the credit union and request to have your name removed from the account?”
She shook her head. “No. We had a huge case at work during that time—a bus and three vehicles were involved; we represented multiple plaintiffs. Settlement talks didn’t work, and there were depositions, endless discovery, pretrial motions, trial. I was lead paralegal on the case at the time, before I became office manager, so I was working late and leaving the house early. I didn’t have time.” She sighed. “So Caleb brought the forms to me at the office one day, and I signed them. He said he would take care of everything after that. Should’ve known not to believe his ass.”
Jovani didn’t speak for the next few moments, and neither did she. Her mind was reeling, her heart once again pumping wildly, but this time from rage.
“Their case against you revolves around that bank account,” Jovani said. He dropped his hands and leaned forward to look at the papers on his desk again. “That’s it. They’ve been investigating this case for months, trying to put together the full picture and possibly catch Caleb and his crew in the act of another robbery before they arrested him. But his body turned up first.”
“So, wait? The police have been investigating me too?”
Jovani looked up at her and nodded. “Watching your accounts as well as his for any more big deposits. I’m guessing that’s why they didn’t immediately bring you in when his body was found. They waited to see what you’d do.”
“The only deposit into my account is my direct deposit every two weeks. Oh no, wait a minute, my name is on my grandmother’s checking and savings account. Please don’t tell me they’re watching that too. Don’t tell me she’s at any type of risk because of Caleb’s ass and my foolishness for not making a cleaner break from him.”
“No,” Jovani said, and held up a hand to stop the rant she was definitely about to go on. “No. They could only get subpoenas to monitor your accounts. Not accounts that you share with someone else who wasn’t also involved in this case. So your grandmother’s money is safe.”
It felt like a for now was lingering in the air, and Vanna began to feel sick. She brought her hands up to cover her face as she tried to take the next calming breath.
“So, here’s our position. To be successful on this conspiracy charge against you, they have to prove that one, you entered into an agreement with at least one person connected to this case to steal the money, and two, that at least one person in that agreement performed the act that furthered the agreement.” He was giving her that pointed glare again. “As long as they can’t prove you agreed to be a part of the robberies with Caleb and his crew, this case fails. We win, you go on with your life.”
“We win? So there has to be a trial? I have to sit in a courtroom while they accuse me of conspiring to steal money that I never even saw? This is bullshit!” First there’d been fear. Then worry had settled in. Now, with all the facts on the table, anger was quickly taking over.
“Not if I can help it,” he said. “Like I said, my team is already on this. With Caleb’s death, two of the key players in this scheme have disappeared. Their case is falling apart, which is why they finally decided to bring you in. They want you to give up the two who’re on the run; then they’ll offer you probation and probably a fine. But we’re not giving them a damn thing. They’re gonna have to prove this case to win, so we’re just going to build our own case that will ensure they lose.”
“If he wasn’t already dead, I promise you I’d kill Caleb Jeremiah Carlson. Then you’d get an even bigger fee to represent me.”
Jovani gave her a half smile. “While I totally understand where you’re coming from, let’s not say that anymore outside of this office.” Then, when she didn’t agree, he continued, “How ’bout we just don’t speak those words again. Ever.”
She sighed and rolled her eyes. “Fine.”
By noon, Vanna’s day had gone from bad to horrendous, when HC Jr. barged into her office. If he’d opened that door two minutes earlier, she would’ve been still eating the steak burrito bowl from Chipotle that Sanni had brought back for her. And that would’ve pissed her off. On the days she didn’t leave the office for lunch—which were few because she really did need to get away from this place for a short period during the middle of the day—she would hang a sign on her office door: Out to lunch . That’s what the sign said—nothing ambiguous, printed in bold block letters, in the English language, which everyone in this office spoke fluently.
And yet, HC Jr. had clearly decided to ignore that sign and walk in unannounced. It was a good thing she didn’t take after him when it came to office etiquette, otherwise he might have found her in a compromising position with the UPS delivery guy. He was currently the finest man to come in and out of this office, as noted by her, Sanni, and Neshawn.
“Why hasn’t this expert been paid?” he asked as he stalked up to her desk, then stood there glaring down at her, waiting for a response.
One that she was in no hurry to give because his rudeness was growing with every passing second, and she had to start counting down from five hundred to keep from going off on his annoying ass. HC Jr. was a few inches taller than his father. He was in his early fifties, and his thick hair was still chestnut brown, his eyes an eerie green. He had the slim and polished look of a legacy student at Yale and the arrogance that often came with it.
She continued wiping her hands with her napkin, then made a production out of leaning to the side and tossing that napkin into the trash. Then she angled her chair so that she was facing the computer more than HC Jr.’s scowling face.
“Which experts are you referring to?” she asked, purposefully keeping her tone even, her gaze directed at the computer.
Vanna had an inkling of which expert in particular he was referring to, and the two cases she hadn’t been paid for yet. But he was going to have to ask for everything he wanted today. She wasn’t in a generous mood.
“Rayna Postmore, the registered nurse on the Forney and Hayes cases. She provided written reports, sat for depositions, and testified at trial in the Hayes case. Both those cases settled last month; she should’ve been paid by now,” he blustered.
Rayna Postmore was an attractive woman—if pixie-like, raven-haired nurses were your thing—with multiple degrees in the medical field. She was a great expert witness both on paper and on the witness stand. In addition to her job at the Johns Hopkins Hospital, she had a thriving consultant side business. She was also one of HC Jr.’s latest side chicks. Which, in Vanna’s estimation, had knocked her worth down tremendously.
“The Forney case settled on July second. Check was received on Friday and hasn’t cleared our account yet,” she said after pulling up a spreadsheet.
She’d lowered the font size on her computer while he’d been talking so that when the spreadsheet came up on the screen, he couldn’t easily see the numbers. He would’ve had to lean over her desk to get a good look, but she knew he wasn’t going to do that. HC Jr.’s and his father’s names might be on the door and the stationery in this office, but Vanna controlled the money, and both men knew it. She looked out for them and this firm in a way neither of them would’ve ever been able to do. She’d done it to an extent as their paralegal, when they’d both acted like their law degrees had been another one of those gifts passed down, but not earned in the least bit, and worked some of their highest-netting cases. Which was why they eventually promoted her to her current position. They knew she was capable of managing every aspect of this firm on her own, and they respected that. They respected her. To the extent that they could respect a Black woman who was younger than them.
“Hayes just settled last week. The defendant’s insurance company in this case is notorious for taking up to seven weeks to pay. I’ve already got it on my calendar to do a first follow-up on payment next week,” she told him. “So, you can tell Rayna her $4,200 from Forney should go out by the end of this week. When the Hayes payment comes in, it usually takes three to five business days for those checks to clear. So, the $5,875 she’s due from that case will come after that.”
His brow furrowed, and he pushed his hands into the front pockets of his khakis. “Can we cut her a check today?”
Vanna sat back in her chair. “We can, but are you prepared to do that for every expert who calls crying for money?”
The question was on the borderline of being insubordinate. No matter how good she was at her job, they were still her employers, and on most days Vanna respected that. Today was not the day for this man to be in her office, worrying her about his mistress. Not when Caleb was still wreaking havoc on her life from the grave.
“Nobody has to know what we’re doing here, Vanna. She needs that money now,” HC Jr. said.
Vanna gave a little nod. “Okay. So, you want me to cut a check for ten thousand to Rayna today. Because that’s the total amount she’s owed for both cases. What should I put in the memo portion?”
“What are you talking about? What do you normally put in the memo portion?” he asked, obviously irritated with Vanna’s questions.
“I normally add the case name and number, which will coordinate with the deposit and clearing of the settlement check. This is how we handle all cases and the settlement sheet that goes into each digital and paper file. Now, if I cut these checks before that happens, it messes up my recordkeeping. So I just need to know how you want me to adjust what will be a discrepancy in the event the accountants decide to audit our accounts.”
His phone buzzed in his pocket, and Vanna wondered if it was Rayna or Paula, his wife of twenty-three years. When he pulled the phone out and scowled down at it, she surmised it was Paula. The woman who’d given him four children and treated him like he was the king of the world.
“Look, I just want her to get paid for her services,” he said, stuffing the phone back into his pocket. “Is that too much to ask? Don’t you expect to get paid for your work?”
She nodded. “I do. Every other Friday and twice during performance appraisals and holiday-bonus time. Which is why I’m always on time to call the payroll service and give them the information they need to process the checks.” When he only blinked at her, his lips going into a tight line, she continued, “And why I am attempting to follow procedure with handling our accounts. But again, your name is on the checks, not mine, so just tell me what you would like me to do and I’ll do it.”
She knew he wasn’t going to tell her to write that check. For one, the last thing he wanted was any discrepancy in their books, because that would certainly bring forth his father’s ire. As a result, Vanna would certainly cover her ass and tell why she’d cut those checks and at whose request. Then, the senior’s anger would be directed at his philandering son. They’d been through this song and dance before, and each time she’d presented him with the same facts. She really wished he’d start thinking with the head that had supposedly gotten him all the degrees that hung on the wall in his office. Because his other one ... well, that one was as dumb as a bag of rocks.
“Well, just call her and explain all that to her,” he said with a huff. “I guess she’ll understand.”
“She will,” Vanna said. Just as she did every other time she’d explained when her check would get there.
It took everything in her not to shout, Why don’t you write her a check out of your own account to pay for the extra services she’s giving you? Because that’s exactly what he was doing. None of their other experts made the money Rayna did, and he knew it.
A few minutes later, he stalked out of her office, and she picked up the phone to call Rayna and let her know when she would receive her money.
At twenty minutes after four, there was a knock on Vanna’s office door. “Come in,” she yelled without looking up from her computer.
She’d readjusted her font because she’d been barely able to see those small-ass numbers earlier herself. Now she was working on another settlement sheet, and she needed to see to make sure all her tabulations were coming out correctly. She only half trusted the computer to do the job.
“Hey, you got a minute?” Sanni asked as she came into the office.
Glancing over at her, Vanna saw that Sanni, a normally easygoing woman, looked stressed. Her shoulders were rigid and her brow furrowed. Vanna could so relate to that feeling, but since she was older than Sanni and Neshawn, she’d become accustomed to acting like the surrogate mother in the office.
“Sure. Close the door,” she told her.
Sanni came in and dropped down into the chair across from Vanna’s desk. “I’m pregnant,” she said without preamble, and Vanna immediately stopped typing.
She turned her head away from the computer screen and looked at Sanni again. She was a pretty young woman with expressive chocolate-brown eyes. Her parents were from Haiti, but Sanni and her two sisters had been born here. She’d had a son, Mikal, when she was in undergrad and thus changed from attending law school upon her graduation and had instead gotten a paralegal certificate. She was twenty-six years old and rented an apartment about twenty minutes away from their office. Mikal’s father wasn’t part of his life, so parenting was solely on her, except for when they went to New York to visit her family.
“Jawan?” Vanna asked, knowing he was the guy Sanni had been messing with for the past few months.
Sanni nodded.
“How far along are you?” Sanni wore a size 0 or 00, a fact that never failed to make Vanna roll her eyes. She didn’t look like she’d gained an ounce yet, so Vanna figured she couldn’t be that pregnant.
“Eight weeks,” Sanni said, and crossed one long leg over the other. “What am I going to do with another baby?”
It almost slipped out that it was maybe a little late to consider that question. Vanna had a full-blown headache from a day full of thinking, worrying, and, since she’d been in the office, biting her damn tongue. What she desperately wanted to do was go home, where she didn’t have to talk to or see anyone. That way she could sit in her thoughts in peace.
“What do you want to do?” she asked her.
Sanni’s eyes widened. “I want to buy a house. I want to take Mikal on nice vacations. I want to pay off these student loans and my car.” She ran her fingers through the silky weave that stretched past her shoulders. “I don’t want another bill.”
Vanna eased back in her chair again, measuring her words. There was so much she could say to Sanni in this moment, but she sensed that listening might be her best bet right now.
“You know how much I make here,” Sanni continued. “It’s barely enough for my rent, day care, car, loans, insurance, and for Mikal and me not to starve. How am I gonna afford another mouth to feed? And day care again? For an infant? That’s going to take half my check!”
Sanni dropped her hands into her lap. “And you know how our PTO works here. How am I going to afford taking off to have this baby?”
From all that Sanni was saying and from her past, Vanna figured Jawan wasn’t going to be an active part of this baby’s life, similar to Mikal’s father. The bastards. And on some level, she really did sympathize with Sanni. Men really weren’t shit. On another, more mature and probably motherly level, she wanted to go right back to her initial thought—it was a little too late to be considering all this now. Because birth control was a thing. Now, it may be a thing that some ridiculous people thought they could dictate to women, so it might not be a thing for long, but right at this moment, and eight weeks ago when Sanni’s baby had been conceived, it was a thing. So why hadn’t this bright, independent woman considered that?
“Have you told your family?” Vanna asked when Sanni had gone quiet.
Sanni shook her head.
“What can I do, Sanni? How can I help you right now?” Because Vanna was certain the words she felt compelled to offer weren’t what this woman needed or wanted to hear at this moment. She’d rather just ask what Sanni wanted and follow her lead than say something that might offend or hurt and cause this situation to be much worse for her.
One thing Vanna knew for certain was that Sanni wanted to be a good mother to Mikal. The younger woman had talked before about how she didn’t want him to suffer because of what his father refused to do. Vanna could wholeheartedly relate to that situation. Having children hadn’t been a consideration to her for just that reason. What if she couldn’t be a good mother?
But that wasn’t the case with Sanni. Vanna saw how hard Sanni worked to take care of her son. She heard about all the things Sanni did for him, the sacrifices she made to ensure his well-being and happiness. If ever she’d witnessed what a good mother—even a single one—could be, it was Sanni. So she was certain Sanni would be the same for this new baby. And in that moment, Vanna decided that she would help her. Whatever Sanni needed to make this experience less stressful, to ensure that she was always able to give her children the very best of herself—without having to be worried or stressed about anything—that’s what Vanna would do. It’s what both Sanni’s children deserved.
Sanni shook her head. “I don’t know,” she said quietly. “I just needed to say it out loud. To tell somebody.” She sighed. “I know I have a lot to think about, a lot to work out. But I figured you would need to know eventually anyway, so why not let you be the first.” She gave her a small smile then, and Vanna returned it.
“Well, I’m honored for that privilege.” Then she glanced at the clock and noted it was time for both of them to get off. “Hey, why don’t I cook us something nice for lunch tomorrow? I think I have the makings for lasagna at home. I can whip that up and bring it in tomorrow, and we can sit in here, eat, and watch Netflix for an hour.”
Sanni rubbed her nonexistent stomach. “You tryin’ to feed this baby already?”
Vanna chuckled. “Absolutely. The same way I’m always trying to feed its mommy. I’m gonna take good care of this little one, you just wait and see.”
At that, Sanni smiled. A slow, genuine smile that touched her pretty eyes and warmed Vanna’s exhausted soul.