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Chapter Six

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Monday morning dawned about as well as Monday mornings do. There is not enough coffee in the world to make me excited about getting up at the crack-o-dark to go anywhere on Monday morning. Don’t get me wrong, I love my job as a lobbyist for National Health Advocacy Alliance, or NHAA, but this morning I had a seven o’clock. professional development breakfast to attend. Which meant full makeup, hair, suit, and heels had to be in place by a quarter after six so I could roll into D.C. metro traffic to get to the venue on time. I headed out of my Alexandria condo complex’s parking lot and found said traffic fifty feet down the road.

Note to self, do not agree to attend any event before nine—a sensible if not unreasonable thought. Sucking down a large gulp of Colombian roast nectar of the gods out of a to-go mug, I crawled along with the rest of the commuting grunts.

Since I have to sit in traffic, I might as well get some work done. Tucking my Bluetooth earbud in, I stated clearly, “Call Jessica, office.” I didn’t expect her to be in the office, especially since she’d spent her weekend in the Hamptons, but if I figured I’d get the ball rolling and leave a message.

She picked up on the fourth ring. “Hello?”

“Jessica? It’s Karina. I—I didn’t expect you to be in yet.”

“I’m not. My work phone is forwarded to my cell.”

“I didn’t wake you, did I?”

“No, I’m up. I’ve got a seven thirty flight out of Islip. What’s going on? You’re not in jail, are you?”

“Ha-ha,” I said wryly, “no. I wanted to tell you about an interesting conversation Jillian and I had with one of Sadira’s coworkers last night.” I went on to describe our meeting with Misty and her allegations about Tazim. “And that’s it.” I waited for a response. “Jessica, are you still there?”

A windy sigh met my question.

I cringed. “Sorry to hit you with it so early. It—it could be nothing, but I thought you ought to know.”

“I do. I’ve got an investigator I can put on it.”

“Let him know that Misty will not want to talk to him in or around the store.”

“Noted.”

“Who are you sending to the arraignment?” I moved into the lane on the right and my speed went from snail to turtle.

“Bernard Theodore Evans the third . . . Esquire,” Jessica drawled in a snooty sort of accent.

“Wow, that sounds . . .”

“Pretentious? He is. But, he’s excellent with the details, well-spoken in court, and one of my best up-and-coming associates. He’ll probably make partner in the next few years.” Jessica’s voice held a definite edge of irritation.

“Sounds like Sadira is in good hands.”

“She is.”

I waited because it felt like Jessica had more to say.

“Karina, would I be wasting my breath if I told you, in the politest of ways, to butt out?”

“Uh—”

“I don’t know where this case is going to lead, but it seems any time you’re involved, things get—”

“A little hairy?”

“Precisely.”

“Got it. Honestly, my sister dragged me into this, and the more I learn about Sadira, the more I want her to get away from whatever this is,” I assured Jessica.

This is either—she did it, in which case, your meddling could put you in a bad position and your sister on the stand to testify for the prosecution. Or she didn’t, and your meddling could put you in the crosshairs of something more dangerous.”

“Oh, I don’t think we’re dealing with criminal masterminds here,” I scoffed.

“Karina, if your friend Misty is right, they broke Tazim’s arm.” Her tone possessed a warning note.

“Okay, okay. I get it. I’m out.” Even though she couldn’t see me, I held up a hand in surrender.

“And take your sister with you.”

I couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped. “Very well, I’ll take Jillian with me.”

“I’ve got to run. We’ll talk later.” She hung up, and I took a left onto a street with traffic moving at the speed of an old basset hound on his way to bed.

****

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I RETURNED TO MY WORKPLACE close to eleven. Rodrigo, my colleague, joined me as I strode down the hall toward my office. He must not have had any meetings on the Hill today, because he wasn’t wearing one of his snazzy suits. Instead he wore a pair of gray slacks, a lavender dress shirt with a black vest, and no tie. The shirt complemented his young, dark Puerto Rican skin tones. He greeted me with, “You missed the morning meeting.”

“I know. Professional development seminar. What did I miss?” We reached my triangular-shaped office space and I pulled the laptop out of my computer bag.

Rodrigo placed a handful of newspapers on my desk with The Washington Post on top. “Budget cuts. We have to share newspapers now. I offered to buddy up with you. Since you weren’t in, I took first crack at them. I’ve highlighted a number of articles you’ll probably want to read.”

“Seriously? We can’t afford newspapers for everyone who needs them in the office?” I shuffled through the stack.

“Apparently, too many people who don’t need them were getting subscriptions. We were dumping piles of papers every day. Hasina has decided this isn’t just a budget issue, but also an environmental one as well. The company will pay for more online subscriptions.”

“I already have all the online subscriptions that I need, and while I do understand the environmental issues . . . Actually—” I flipped open the New York Times. Rodrigo had folded down the top corner and outlined in pink highlighter an article about the closing of a large hospital conglomerate in the Midwest. “—this is great. If you’re going to do this, you can have first crack at them every morning.”

“Sure thing, boss lady.” He snapped a haughty salute.

“I’m not your boss,” I responded mildly and changed topic. “How is Alphonse doing?”

Alphonse was Rodrigo’s partner and a head chef at a five-star French restaurant in D.C. Last week he woke at four in the morning with lower stomach pain. Rodrigo rushed him to the hospital where tests revealed appendicitis, which led to an emergency appendectomy.

“He’s got a doctor’s appointment today, and I sincerely hope the doc clears him to return to work because he’s becoming a pain in my ass. I’ve practically had to chain him to the plumbing to keep him away from the restaurant,” Rodrigo complained.

“It’s his baby. You’d do the same thing.”

“No, I wouldn’t. I’d read and watch trashy reality cable shows.”

I arched a single disbelieving brow.

“What? I would.” He sniffed and crossed his arms.

“Give him my best, will you?” My desk phone rang, and Rodrigo retreated to his cubicle.

The call turned out to be a telemarketer, and, after hanging up, I sorted through the newspapers. I finished perusing the Wall Street Journal, then pulled The Washington Post to the top of the pile. The article popped out at me from the front page of the Metro section. The photo they used must have come from a social media account instead of the police mugshot. That and the fact it was below the fold were the only silver linings I could identify. The headline alone would doom Sadira—“Diamond Theft! Fairfax County Teacher Arrested.” The article went on to describe the facts of the case, including information that the county school superintendent had put her on leave pending further investigation. Jessica’s firm, speaking on their client’s behalf, provided a “no comment,” to the press.

I wondered if Jillian had seen the piece. Now, more than ever, it would be prudent to take Jessica’s directive and stay out of it. I made a note on my calendar to contact Jillian after school to bring her up to date on the current situation.