Chapter 3 Helena #2
“Yeah, and now there are a few more.” I counted on my fingers.
“I have to live with them until I graduate, I’m not allowed to meet with anyone who has any connection to Valerie—except you, of course—and I’m only allowed to go to parties if I run it past them first. And on top of that, I have to attend any and all business functions that they want me to go to.
In exchange for all that, I get to live here and go to Columbia. ”
“You might as well become a nun,” Malia joked. “I’ll just call you Sister Helena from now on. I take it you’re not allowed to date?”
I grinned. “Actually, I was planning on grabbing the first half-decent guy off the street and bringing him home for sex while my parents entertain the mayor in the living room downstairs. Do you think that’d be allowed?”
“Hmm. Sounds like a gray area to me.”
We both laughed. It wasn’t funny really, but I had no choice other than to accept my parents’ conditions. I couldn’t do anything to clear Valerie’s name from England.
“Then I guess you’re not planning to call the lovely Ian?” Malia’s eyebrows took on a life of their own again. “He’s waited three years for you—don’t you think he’ll want to know you’re back?”
I shook my head. “If he really has been waiting for me, then there’s something wrong with him. Anyway, he’s at college on the West Coast, as far as I know.”
Ian was my ex—my first love, if you wanted to call it that.
We’d been together for five months when Valerie died, and my life as I knew it had ended.
My parents had shipped me off to England in a cloak-and-dagger operation, and from then on Ian had been nothing more than a contact in my phone.
We’d had a couple of calls, but he was completely overwhelmed by my grief, so I’d ended it, and pretty soon I stopped thinking about him altogether.
“My type has changed a bit since then, too.”
Malia laughed. “Oh yeah? So those nice young men in freshly pressed shirts that your mother picks out for you—don’t tell me you’re not a fan anymore?”
“To that I can only say a resounding ‘hell no.’ Cambridge was helpful on that score, for sure.” I laughed as well and took another doughnut while Malia regarded me with interest.
“Len, are you really here just because you missed New York?” she asked finally. I knew what she was getting at. A few months ago, I’d talked her into sending me information pertaining to the night Valerie and Adam died.
“What do you mean?” I replied innocently. “I mean, this is my home, so—” I broke off; a young officer had come in to get himself a coffee. He said hello to Malia, then his gaze landed on me, and his expression went from friendly to intrigued.
“All good, Ramirez?” my friend asked, in a tone that would have the most hardened criminals confessing their crimes.
“What? Yeah, of course.” He shot me a grin, then left the room.
Malia gave me a look. “Don’t worry, I won’t give him your number.”
“Shame—I thought maybe he’d be good for that thing with the mayor,” I quipped, although I wasn’t really in a joking mood.
It seemed Malia wasn’t either. “So what are you up to?” she pressed. “And don’t take me for an idiot, okay?”
I let out a breath and gave in. If I wanted to be able to count on my sister’s friend for what was to come, I’d have to tell her the truth. “I’m here to clear Valerie’s name. And to find out what happened that night.”
“You know what happened that night,” Malia said. She hadn’t been at the party—she’d been living abroad for a few months back then—but she’d read the case notes, obviously. “Everyone knows.”
I shook my head. “No. I only know what was in the papers and the police report—that the two of them were celebrating their engagement in a suite at the Vanity Hotel, that they were drinking, and that they took cocaine that was contaminated with lidocaine, leading to cardiac arrest.” I took a deep breath.
I couldn’t say those words without getting angry.
Not least at myself, since I hadn’t been at the party either; I’d been in bed, sick.
If only I’d just taken a couple of ibuprofen and gone along…
“And that the whole world thinks they were Valerie’s drugs.
But she didn’t take drugs, not ever. It’s not her fault she and Adam are dead. ”
“And so what is it you want now? To find out who’s really to blame?”
“Exactly. And then to prove that my sister’s name was dragged through the dirt unfairly.”
Malia blew out a loud breath. I could tell what was coming. “Listen to me, Len. I know you’re mad because the Coldwells spread all that stuff about Valerie, but—”
My voice turned to a hiss as I broke her off.
“They said Valerie was the one egging him on, that she convinced Adam to take it! It’s bullshit!
” I remembered, word for word, what Trish Coldwell had said back then.
I was against this relationship from the start.
I knew that that woman and her depraved lifestyle would bring my son nothing but trouble.
Now he’s dead, and it is entirely her doing.
Except it wasn’t just Trish—Adam’s brother, his stepfather, and all of their friends had joined in.
They turned up on talk shows, in the papers, on blogs, with story after story about my sister, painting her as reckless and irresponsible, obsessed with parties and luxury, an airhead who didn’t give a damn about anyone or anything but herself.
And I’d sat by, in England, shocked and helpless in the face of their lies, unable to do a thing to defend my sister. Until now.
“I’d rather you didn’t go up against the Coldwells.” Malia shook her head. “You saw what they did to Val, how easily they can destroy someone in the media. I don’t want them to do the same to you.”
“You think I’m not a match for Trish Coldwell?” I asked defiantly.
“No, I know you’re not. That woman is dangerous, Helena. The whole fucking city kowtows to her. Not even your parents went after her publicly when they dragged Valerie through the dirt.”
She was right about that. My parents had taken legal action against the accusations, but they had never spoken publicly about the case.
It’s not our style, they’d said, when I called them up from boarding school to ask why they were just letting it all happen, why they didn’t fight for their daughter when her name was being smeared.
My brother had given a few interviews, true enough, but my parents had stood him down too, in the hope that talk would soon turn to other things.
“Well, I’m not the whole city,” I said, more confidently than I felt. “And when I find out the truth, Trish Coldwell can do what she likes. She can’t argue with concrete evidence.” I couldn’t wait for the day when I would pay that family back for everything they’d done to mine.
“And how are you going to get a hold of this evidence?” asked Malia. “The NYPD looked into everything, and so did private investigators hired by both families. They didn’t find anything to contradict Trish’s allegations.”
“Yes, but none of those people were trying to exonerate Valerie. They just wanted to know whether a crime had taken place or not. And as soon as they cleared that up, no one bothered to find out exactly what happened. So I’m going to.
” I’d been working on it for almost a year in England.
I’d gotten access to the case files without my parents finding out; I’d gathered all the facts and planned out what to do next.
And Malia was part of that plan. “By the way… I might be able to use some help now and again, from a dedicated young police officer who wants to be a detective someday.”
Her eyes widened. “You want me to help you?” she asked in a low voice. “I’m being serious, Len—do you really think this is going to go anywhere? I don’t know if Valerie would want you to get so caught up in this thing.”
“Yes, she would—she’d have done exactly the same for me. That’s why I can’t let it go. I have to expose their lies and get to the truth. And I’m going to do it with or without your help.”
Malia returned my stare for a few seconds, then she leaned back and audibly exhaled. “This is crazy. No, you’re crazy. Do you even have a plan? Some kind of starting point?”
“I do. And I’ll gladly tell you all about it when I know you’re on board. I’m not asking much—maybe just some intel, or a little top cover here and there. I won’t get you into trouble, I promise.” A hopeful smile crept onto my lips. “Will you help me? Please don’t make me beg.”
“I am so going to regret this.” Malia shook her head and gave a deep sigh. “But okay, I’ll help you. Only I won’t do anything to jeopardize my job, or help with anything that would put you in danger. Are we agreed on that?”
“Yes.” I nodded, and I meant it.
“Good. Okay then… tell me your plan.”