After their calls were made, the paparazzi alerted and on their way to the Owens Valley, Nicole, Josh, and Carlos waited for the story to actually appear. It popped up on the Times website at 3:17 a.m. The three of them gathered in front of Josh’s computer so they could all read it at the same time. When they were done, they laughed and cheered.
Only then—at 3:40—was it time for bed. Josh gave Carlos a pillow and blankets so he could sleep on the living room couch. Josh and Nicole headed upstairs.
They were awakened by a commotion on the street in front of the house. Nicole looked at the bedside clock. It was 8:00 a.m. Josh got up and peered out the window. “Holy shit!” he said. “There’s a crowd of photographers in front and TV trucks are parked all down the block.”
Nicole groaned. She hadn’t thought of this. Josh had been identified in the story as an architect who lived in Studio City. Of course the paparazzi would figure out where he lived and track them down.
“Your neighbors are going to hate this,” she said. “I’ll tell the reporters that I’ll answer their questions and pose for pictures if they promise to leave when we’re done.”
“Do you really think they’ll go?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “But now that the chief is on his way out, we can call the police. These people are disturbing the peace in a residential neighborhood. I don’t think they get to do that.”
She got up and put on her robe. Opening the bedroom window, she called her offer down to them.
There were shouts of agreement. “Give me fifteen minutes,” she shouted. “And could you please keep down the noise? You’re disturbing the neighbors.”
The clamor outside continued while she got ready. Meanwhile, Josh pulled on jeans and a T-shirt. “I think I’ll let you handle this one,” he said. “I’ll go down and make coffee.” Nicole wondered if his last conversation with his parents had anything to do with his decision to avoid the paparazzi. She suspected it had. With the cameras waiting, she took some time with her hair and makeup. This was her big appearance, and she wanted to look her best.
When she was ready, she went downstairs. Josh was starting to put together breakfast. He greeted her with a kiss and handed her a cup of coffee. She took a couple of gulps and gave the cup back to him. Carlos, who’d been drinking coffee in the kitchen, put down his cup and followed her.
When they were out on the porch, Carlos took a position four or five feet away from her and started scanning the crowd. “OK. Here I am,” Nicole said to the gathered reporters and photographers. There were perhaps fifty of them. They started shouting questions, and she said, “Raise your hands. I’ll call on you one at a time. I promise I’ll get to everyone.”
So, one-by-one, they asked their questions. The first was, “Who’s the big guy standing next to you?”
Nicole introduced Carlos and said that he was her bodyguard. Predictably, the next question was why she thought she needed one. She explained that a man had made several attempts on her life, and that was why she’d been in hiding. Now, with the story made public, the people who’d been exposed would have to pray that nothing happened to her. But she wasn’t entirely convinced she was out of danger, so she’d enlisted Carlos’ help.
For the most part, the reporters and paparazzi asked for information that had already appeared on the Times’ website and, presumably, in the morning edition of the paper. They wanted her to retell it in her own words on video. As she understood it, some of this was being broadcast live on a couple of the TV channels, maybe even on tabloid websites. It was a good hour and a half before Nicole had answered every question. Then another hand went up. She gave the man a nod, and he said, “Can you ask your boyfriend to come out, so we can get shots of the two of you together?”
“I’m sorry,” she said, “but he’s not making an appearance today.”
“Why not?” someone else shouted. “He let the Times run his picture.”
“And that was quite enough,” she said. “Thank you for your time this morning.” She turned and headed back into the house, dismissing them.
True to their word, the reporters, paparazzi, and TV crews immediately packed up and got into their vehicles. In fact, they cleared out in such a hurry that she figured they must have a tip on a hotter story.
Josh had cooked them a huge breakfast. Waffles, eggs, and sausages were in the oven keeping warm. On the table, he’d placed a pitcher of fresh-squeezed orange juice and a bowl of mixed berries.
The three of them had just sat down when the doorbell rang. Carlos went to get it. He was back almost at once.
“Who was it?” Nicole said.
“Paparazzi,” he said. “Three of them. They told me to smile for the cameras, so I did.” They all laughed. “Looks like everybody else is gone,” he added.
“Thank god!” Nicole exclaimed. She’d just begun to serve herself breakfast when her phone rang. She’d turned it back on, and it was in its charger on the kitchen counter. She picked it up. Detective Miller was on the line. “I called to both thank you and apologize,” he said. “So don’t tell me to call your lawyer. Just listen, okay?”
“Go ahead,” Nicole said.
“First of all, I’m sorry I didn’t believe you when you first told me you weren’t involved with Blair. But more importantly, I want to thank you for exposing the chief. A lot of us on the force knew about him, but nobody was willing to step forward. There’s a code of silence—I’m sure you’ve heard of it—but the truth of the matter is that no one had the balls to take on the chief.”
Detective Miller paused then continued, “I also want you to know that our squad arrested him and his inner circle at their homes early this morning. They’re being charged with murder and conspiracy in the case of Robert Blair. They’re also facing a number of other charges, including accepting bribes. We met with the D.A. as soon as the Times story appeared, and he was completely onboard. At this very moment, our men are bringing them into police headquarters. So you don’t have to worry about your safety anymore.”
“That sounds great,” Nicole said, “but how can I be sure you got the man who was trying to kill me?”
“Turn on Channel Nine right now,” he said. “You’ll see the men being brought in. Hurry or you’ll miss them.”
She went into the living room, followed by Josh and Carlos, and turned on the TV, switching to Channel Nine. Sure enough, a “breaking news” sign appeared on the screen, and a perp walk was taking place as men were marched into police headquarters. She didn’t see the man who’d been following her. But photos of the arrested men and their names were running along the bottom of the screen. There were nine of them, including the police chief. The man who’d been after her was third from the left. He was shown in his police uniform, which made him look even more menacing. “That’s him!” she told Miller. “The guy in the third photo.”
“Hank Kozlowski. We’ll need you to come in and identify him,” Miller said. “Then we can add the charge of attempted murder.”
“Can we give it a couple of days?” she said. “I have a lot to catch up with.”
“Call me tomorrow, and we’ll make an appointment,” he said. “By the way, if you happen to stop by your old law firm at 3:00 p.m. today, you might run into something of interest. Please keep this to yourself. And, again, thanks. A lot of the guys down here are really grateful to you. I mean it.”
Back in the kitchen, Josh was reheating the food in the microwave. By now every phone in the house was ringing—all of their cell phones, as well as Josh’s home phone.
They tried to ignore the ringing, but it was too insistent, stopping only to start up again a few seconds later. They got up and turned off the phones, and Josh disconnected the jack of his home phone. Then they sat down at the table and started to eat, happy to have the story out and Nicole’s safety assured. For the first time since she’d found Robert’s body, she felt safe. She pretty much cleaned her plate. Carlos couldn’t get over Josh’s cooking, and he went back for a heaping plate of seconds.
After they were done, Carlos said, “Looks like you guys don’t need a bodyguard anymore.”
Josh and Nicole walked him to the door. “Thanks for being here for us Carlos,” Josh said. “Send me a bill and I’ll settle up.”
“No way,” said Carlos. “This one’s on me. You guys did a huge public service. I’m not going to charge you for it.”
As Carlos left, Nicole found herself thinking, Now what? What was she going to do about a job? What was she going to do about her inheritance? And, even more pressing, what about Josh? She could move back to her own place now. She’d been waiting for this day, but now she had mixed feelings about it. This time with Josh had been lovely.
“Listen,” Josh said. “We need to talk.”
She followed him into the living room where they both settled on the couch. Nicole was quiet.
“First, you have to make peace with this inheritance you keep saying you don’t want,” Josh said. “I really do think you should accept it, Nicole. Blair’s behavior—stalking you and then leaving his money to you, which made you a suspect—his whole obsession with you blew your life apart. You’ve said you’re not going back to the law firm, so you’re also out of a job. You’ve gone through all kinds of traumatic experiences because of Blair. You’ve earned this money.”
When Nicole was still silent, Josh continued, “As for that diamond ring you showed me, I’ll bet Tiffany’s will take it back. If not, you can donate it to a charity. They can raffle it off or use it in a silent auction. And think what you can do with Blair’s money. You tell me your sister is living in a rundown apartment, driving a beat-up, old car. Once you sell Robert’s house, you can buy sis a house or a condo and a new car. It will change her life. And this money will buy you time to figure out what you want to do next. You can give some of it away to causes you care about. You can even put some away for our kids’ college funds. What do you think the government would do with it if you refuse to take it? They’ll use it to build a couple of inches of a new freeway on-ramp or half a prison cell.”
Nicole’s mind was still stuck on the college funds. “Our kids?” she laughed. “Surely you’re not proposing to me! We’ve only known each other a few weeks.”
“Oh, I am going to marry you,” Josh was saying. “But that conversation’s for another time. Here’s what’s going to happen: You’re going to your place today to pack up some of your things and start the process of moving in with me.”
“That’s completely crazy,” she said. “What person in her right mind would give up Westwood for Studio City?” She looked into his eyes for a long moment and grew more serious. “I think we may have a future together, but we need time to find out. Right now we’re in the first flush of romance. We don’t know each other very well, or whether we’ll get along once the courtship phase wears off. And what about your family? I gather they weren’t too thrilled when you told them who you’re seeing.”
“They’ll be fine once they know you,” he said. “Right now, all they have to go on is what they’ve read in the paper.
“Well,” Nicole said, “before we do anything rash, I want to meet your family and, hopefully, get them to like me. And what about your friends? We don’t even know each other’s friends. Let’s be sensible. I mean, I’ve loved staying here with you, but actually moving in is a big step. And—well—I need some time to process what’s happened and sort myself out.”
Josh looked dashed. He was silent until Nicole said, “It’s not like we’re going to stop seeing each other. Let’s revisit this conversation in six months. Okay?”
He smiled, and they sealed the bargain with a kiss. Josh was up for more, but Nicole said, “Later. I need to spend the day out and about, tending to things I’ve had to let slide. I’ll take the rental car. I left mine in the garage at work. By now, they’ve probably had it towed. I’ll have to find out where it is.”
“Take my car,” he said. “I’ll return the rental. The agency is just a short walk from my office, and I usually walk to work anyway.” Then he added, “Hey—let’s go out to dinner tonight.”
“Café Marie? I’d love that!”
Nicole made some phone calls to set up appointments, then called her sister so they could discuss the good news. They didn’t talk long; Nicole had too much to do. First, she stopped by Daniel Freeman’s office to sign the papers accepting her inheritance. Freeman said it would be in her bank account the next day. He gave her the phone number of an accountant who could figure out the taxes owed on Robert’s unreported blackmail earnings and arrange for her to pay it. As for Robert’s house, he said he’d have the deed transferred over, but that would take several weeks. Of course she couldn’t put it up for sale before it was cleaned up and “staged” to help it sell. She could use the time to start the process.
Next, Nicole called on her lawyer. Sue was wearing a pale pink dress, which made a dazzling contrast with her red curly hair. Nicole had forgotten how beautiful she was.
Sue was clearly hurt that Nicole had dropped out of sight without telling her. Nicole apologized. “I’m really sorry, but I just didn’t know who I could trust, and the firm was paying you.”
“I understand, Nicole,” Sue said, “but I thought you knew I’m on your side, and I’ve been so terribly worried about you. But let’s put it behind us. I’m glad you came by. Now, tell me: What are your plans now that this mess is behind you?”
Nicole explained that she didn’t know, but she had accepted Robert’s bequest, and she and Josh were thinking about the future.
Sue beamed at her. “So something good has come of all of this.”
“It has,” Nicole said. “It certainly has.”
Next, she stopped at her condo. Her mailbox was full, but since it was only big enough to hold a few days’ deliveries, she went up to see if her neighbor, Maryann, had taken some in. Maryann always looked after the mail when Nicole was off visiting Reinhardt. Sure enough, Maryann had a small carton filled with Nicole’s bills, notices, and junk mail.
“I was just reading about you in the paper,” Maryann said. “My god! What a nightmare. Why don’t you come in and tell me about it? I just made a pot of coffee.”
“I’d love to, Maryann,” Nicole said, “but I’ve got too much to do.” She thanked Maryann, then went next door.
The place was still a mess from the break-in, and it smelled of the fruit, now rotting, which she’d left in a bowl on the dining room table. She took it out to the trash and threw it away, bowl and all. Once back inside, she avoided the refrigerator. She’d deal with that later.
In its disheveled state, the place felt spooky, haunted by events of the last few weeks and even before. For the first time, she thought about putting this property up for sale. She’d be able to afford a bigger place now. If things with Josh worked out, maybe he could eventually move in with her. In any case, she didn’t want to live here anymore. Too many bad memories—her failed marriage, Robert’s stalking, not to mention the two break-ins.
She glanced at her watch. It was 2:40. She hurried down to the car and headed for the law offices of Bascomb, Rice, Smith & Di Angelo.
The media was back in front of the building, the full complement of paparazzi and TV trucks. She pulled into valet parking. As soon as she got out of her car, the cameras moved toward her.
“Hey, Nicole,” one of the paparazzi shouted. “You know what’s going on?”
She smiled, recognizing him from that morning when she’d seen him in front of Josh’s house. “No idea,” she said. “I’m just dropping by for a minute. Don’t you know what you’re supposed to be covering?”
He shrugged and said, “Someone called the tabloids and said something big was going down at this address at 3:00.” He gestured toward the street where three LAPD squad cars occupied the no-parking zone. Somehow she hadn’t noticed them.
Nicole hurried into the building; she was pretty sure she knew what was coming next, and it made her tingle with excitement. The desk in the lobby was tended by a new security guard, and she had to stop and show identification before he’d let her in.
As soon as she stepped off the elevator, she could see the staff was aware that something big was happening. They weren’t sure of the details but understood it was going to affect them, and not in a good way. No one was working or even sitting at a desk. The whole support staff was standing around in clusters, talking. Some appeared to be arguing among themselves. All of them looked anxious and unhappy. Several were standing near the corridor that led to the attorneys’ more lavish suites. One at a time, they would step into the doorway for a look down the hall.
Nicole walked forward, greeting those who looked her way. A few people nodded at her abstractedly, but their attention was elsewhere. She went into her glass cubicle and began looking for her things in the closet and desk drawers. Her coat had been replaced by what she recognized as Breanna’s. In the desk were new drawer organizers and supplies.
When she looked up, Breanna was standing next to her. “This is my office now, Nicole,” she said. Her voice was neutral, neither friendly nor unfriendly. Perhaps she was expecting a fight.
“You’re welcome to it, Breanna,” Nicole said. “I just stopped by to formally hand in my notice and pick up my stuff.”
“Oh,” Breanna replied, in a friendlier tone. “I guess you didn’t hear. I mean—of course, you wouldn’t have heard. What am I thinking? They told me they didn’t expect you to come back, so they gave me your job.” She flushed. “Sorry, Nicole. I always enjoyed working for you.”
Nicole put her hand on Breanna’s shoulder. “I know,” she said. “Same here.”
“Your things are in the storage room,” Breanna said. “I’ll get them for you.”
“So, what’s going on?” Nicole gestured toward the lawyer’s part of the office.
“All I know is that some cops arrived about ten minutes ago and asked for Rice,” Breanna said. “It’s possible they’re just here to arrest a client who’s come in to surrender. But I think it’s something more. I’m really scared, Nicole. What if Rice or another of the partners is arrested? Anything like that would put the firm out of business, and we’d all lose our jobs. Do you know anything?”
“Me?” Nicole said. “I’ve been completely out of circulation. But it doesn’t sound good. What about Rick? Is he in?”
“No,” Breanna said. “He left the firm last week. Someone said he got a job with a small firm in West Covina, handling DUI cases. I find that pretty hard to believe.”
Suddenly, Nicole was aware of voices coming from the lawyers’ suite. She stepped out of Breanna’s office and pushed through the people standing at the entrance to the connecting corridor. Once there, she stood against the wall and folded her arms across her chest. She was so excited she could hardly breathe.
There was movement as a group of men assembled at the lawyers’ end of the corridor. A voice she recognized as Rice’s said, “Why can’t we take the executive elevator? Then we won’t have to go out front and face all those cameras.”
“You don’t get to sneak out the back to avoid the press,” a man answered. “You’re going out the front door.” Nicole recognized this voice, too. It was Detective Miller.
Another man blustered, “My good man, do you know who I am? You can’t treat me like a common criminal!” Nicole was pretty sure it was Pizer.
“I don’t care if you’re King Solomon,” Miller said. “You’re going to walk outside and face the public, just like everybody else who gets arrested.”
Then Rice again, “Can’t you at least take these handcuffs off until we’re in the car? We arranged to surrender, and we kept our part of the bargain. We’re not going to try to escape. Why in the hell would you make us do a perp walk?”
“Because that’s the way it works, counselor,” said Miller. “You, of all people, should know that. Now let’s stop arguing and get this over with.”
The group began walking toward Nicole. She flattened herself against the wall to let them pass.
Miller, who was in the lead, gave her a wink. It was a bit of a shock to see Rice and Pizer with their hands cuffed behind them. When Rice saw her, he stopped abruptly, causing Pizer to bump into him. Miller turned around. “No funny stuff,” he said sternly. As they passed Nicole, Rice gave her a look of pure hatred. Pizer, on the other hand, seemed dazed, as if unable to process what was going on. At the rear of the group were three uniformed cops.
They all walked through the support staff’s wing and filed into an elevator. Members of the staff stood and watched, each looking stunned. As soon as the elevator doors closed, Nicole went back to Breanna’s office and stood at the window to watch what was happening below. The three black-and-whites were now in the valet lane, which had been cleared of other vehicles. Beyond them was the army of cameramen and reporters, which seemed to have doubled since she’d entered the building.
Breanna joined Nicole at the window. Neither of them spoke. After a couple of minutes, the police and their prisoners emerged below. Rice was loaded into the back of one patrol car and Pizer into another. A uniformed policeman held each prisoner’s head, so he wouldn’t bump it on the way into the caged backseat.
Nicole smiled, thinking that she couldn’t remember ever seeing a spectacle quite so satisfying.