Buying Time (26 page)

Dre zipped up his jeans. “You need to let me deal with dude.”

“No!” Angela said. “I’ll handle it.” She stepped into her house shoes and tied her robe. “Please stay here. I don’t want him to know I’m seeing anybody.”

Dre started to protest, but Angela held up both hands. “Let me handle this my way, okay?”

Closing the bedroom door behind her, Angela marched into the living room. She had never told Dre that Cornell attacked her the night she broke off the engagement. Her sister had wanted to go back and confront him. Maybe if she had, Cornell would’ve gotten the message.

“What are you doing here, Cornell?” Angela said through the closed door.

“I need to talk to you,” he cried. “Please open the door, Angela. I just want to talk to you.”

“I’m not opening the door. Just leave!”

“Open the goddamn door!” Cornell kicked it hard, causing Angela to jump back in alarm.

“If you don’t leave, I’m calling the police!” she yelled.

“You have to talk to me. You have to give me another chance. Please, I love you.”

“I’ll talk to you,” Angela said. “But not here. Not now. Leave or I’m calling the police.”

She peered through the peephole and could see that Cornell was red-eyed and unshaven, wearing a rumpled suit that looked as if he’d slept in it. He had the same crazed look in his eyes that she’d seen the night of Jon’s accident. Even with Dre in the next room and a heavy wooden door between them, she did not feel safe.

Cornell kicked the door again and Angela thought she heard one of the hinges crack.

She took a step back and bumped into a bare-chested Dre. Before she could stop him, he reached over her shoulder and snatched open the door.

Shock, followed by rage, spread across Cornell’s sullen face.

“Dude, you need to back off,” Dre said. “She told you it’s over. You need to step.”

Cornell seemed paralyzed for several seconds, apparently shocked into speechlessness. He lost his balance and fell back against the hallway wall.

Dre waited a few seconds, then shut the door in his face.

Angela covered her mouth with both hands. “You shouldn’t have done that. You just made everything worse. No telling what he’s going to do now!”

“He ain’t doin’ shit ’cuz he’s a punk.”

“You don’t know Cornell. He doesn’t like to lose.”

“Well, he’s definitely lost you, so he just needs to get used to it.”

“I really wish you hadn’t done that,” Angela cried. “This just creates a whole new set of problems.”

Dre pulled her to him. “Babe, you don’t have a thing to worry about. Just trust me. I got this.”

B
ecker took a few seconds to rehearse everything in his head before picking up the telephone. He hoped his call to Waverly Sloan turned out better than his attempt to talk some sense into Ashley. Becker couldn’t believe it when the little brat hung up in his face.

When Sloan came on the line, Becker thought the man’s voice might have been slurred. He did not want to converse with a drunk. He wanted Sloan fully cognizant of everything he was about to say.

“I’m calling on behalf of United States Attorney General Lawrence Erickson,” he began. Becker did not plan to give his name, even if asked.  He might have to later deny that the call ever took place.

“What? You got a complaint, too?” Waverly’s speech was badly garbled.

Becker paused. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Join the crowd. It’s Jump on Waverly Sloan Day.”

Becker was disappointed. The guy was bombed. The conversation would not go according to plan.

“I’m calling because Mr. Erickson is concerned that your activities could create some unwelcome fallout for him. When he hired you to broker his wife’s insurance policy, he had no idea about your criminal activities. I understand that you’re under investigation for fraud and, possibly, murder. The things we’ve been reading about you are quite troubling.”

“Whatever.”

“Mr. Sloan, you need to listen to me and listen to me very carefully. If you had anything to do with the death of Mr. Erickson’s wife, you’re going to pay.”

Becker’s words seemed to rally Waverly out of his drunken stupor.

“What did you say?” Waverly’s voice sounded a little clearer now.

“I’m sure you heard me correctly.”

A long patch of silence followed.

“Is everybody crazy? You think I killed Mrs. Erickson, too?”

Too? “
And who else thinks you murdered her?”

“Two prosecutors from the U.S. Attorney’s Office came to my office without even making an appointment. They implied that since I brokered Mrs. Erickson’s policy, I had something to do with her death.”

Damn!
So Hargrove and Evans
had
made the link to Erickson. The fact that they’d withheld that information was quite problematic.

“And exactly how do they think you killed her?”

“Beats me.”

“Sounds like you’re in quite a bit of trouble,” Becker said. “I suggest you go out and hire a good lawyer.”

“What’s wrong with everybody? That woman was dying. All of my clients were dying. I had no motive for killing her or anybody else.”

“That
L.A. Times
article certainly implied otherwise. And I’ve heard other disturbing information about you.”

“Like what?”

“I didn’t call to answer your questions, Mr. Sloan. I called to deliver a message. You will not get away with this.”

Becker hung up the telephone. His sole intent in making the call was to put the fear of God into the man. But Becker wasn’t sure he’d accomplished his goal. His initial research on Waverly Sloan made him an unlikely murderer. He was a small-time ambulance chaser who’d never made much of a splash in the legal profession. Early in his career, he had achieved a few victories at trial, but in recent years, Sloan had settled half of his cases and the rest were dismissed.

Though Becker was presenting a calm front for Erickson’s sake, Ashley’s accusations were slowly gaining traction. The fact that they could not be proven did not matter. If the media picked up the story—true or false—Erickson would be ruined. So far, only luck had kept the story out of the media.

Becker was trying to do everything in his power to keep a lid on the situation, but frankly, he no longer believed that he could.

A
ngela was now paying for lounging in bed with Dre for two mornings in a row. It was after ten by the time she made it to work that morning. Now, eight hours later, she had little to show for her time.

Rocking back in her chair, she closed her eyes as a big smile lit up her face. Lately, she was spending way too much time daydreaming about Dre. It was nice being with someone who liked to laugh and didn’t take life so seriously. He called her during the day just because and they made love morning and night.

Cornell had not called since his confrontation with Dre earlier in the week. Angela felt guilty for calling off the wedding and blamed herself for not ending it sooner. She really wished that Cornell hadn’t found out that she was already seeing someone else. But there was nothing she could do about that now.

Angela turned off her computer and started packing up to go home. She leaned down and retrieved her purse from the bottom drawer of her desk. When she sat back up, the blood drained from her face.

Cornell was standing just inside the doorway, one hand behind his back.

Oh, my God!
Her first thought was that Cornell was holding a gun behind his back. Then she remembered the metal detectors at the entrance of the building. He wouldn’t have been able to sneak a gun inside the courthouse. But he could still have some other kind of weapon.

He stepped inside and closed the door behind him.

“I don’t want to talk to you.” Angela was scared out of her mind, but tried not to show it. “You need to leave. Now.”

Cornell’s eyes were red and he looked tired, but he didn’t appear to be drunk. “What are you trying to do to me?”

Angela had a question of her own that required an answer. “Why are you holding your hand behind your back?”

He took several wide steps toward her.

“Remember this?” He held a colorful wooden carving high in the air. “I bought it for you on our trip to Kenya. You left a lot of stuff behind. Like that ring that I’m still making payments on. I figured you’d at least want this.” He slammed down the carving on the corner of her desk.

The fact that Cornell did not have a weapon did nothing to reduce Angela’s anxiety level. “Thanks, but I don’t think you should be here. I was just about to leave.”

“Good. I’ll walk you to your car.”

“No!” She caught herself. She had to play it cool. “You don’t need to do that. Just leave, Cornell. Please.”

“After more than three years together, we can’t even have a civil conversation?”

“We can talk later.” She had to get him out of her office. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Oh, so now you’ll call me? I’ve been calling you since you walked out on me, but you refused to pick up. Guess you’ve been too busy screwing that thug with all the tattoos.”

Angela took a step closer to the phone. “If you don’t leave, I’m calling security.”

Cornell picked up the carving and crashed it down again. “What kind of head games are you trying to play with me, Angela? You embarrass me like this and expect me to just sit back and take it?”

Angela now saw that crazed look in Cornell’s eyes again. If she could just make it to the hallway, she could alert someone.

“I’m not trying to embarrass you. Nobody knows why we cancelled the wedding. Just tell people whatever you want and I’ll go along with it.”

Cornell stepped around the desk, blocking her path. “You will not embarrass me.”

Angela boldly stood her ground. “This is the last time I’m saying this. If you don’t leave, I’m calling security.”

Cornell chuckled. “You probably couldn’t even find a security guard around this place. If I wanted to, I could strangle you before they got their lazy asses up here. Why are you so anxious to leave anyway? You have to run home and fuck that thug? Why are you lowering yourself with a guy like that?”

“I’m leaving.”

When she attempted to walk around him, he made a fist and punched her in the jaw.

Angela stumbled and screamed out in pain.  She made a dash for the telephone receiver, but Cornell snatched it from her and grabbed her by the neck with both hands.

“You bitch!” he yelled, as his fingers clamped around her neck. “You will not disrespect me!”

Angela tugged at his wrists and tried to scream, but no words came out. The harder she tried to pry his hands loose, the tighter he squeezed. She spotted the wood carving on the corner of the desk and scooped it up. She swung wildly, aiming for Cornell’s head, but the sculpture slipped from her hand.

Fearing that she was about to die, she reached down, grabbed a handful of Cornell’s crotch and squeezed as hard as she could.

Cornell yelped in pain and immediately released her neck, but Angela wasn’t ready to let go. He doubled over and tried to speak, but the hold she had on his groin had effectively severed his vocal chords.

Angela finally released him and dashed for the door.

“You bitch!” he finally sputtered.

Angela reached the door just as it opened.

“What’s going on in here?” It was one of the maintenance men, who had come to empty the trash. “Ma’am, are you okay?”

Angela touched her numb face, her body still trembling.

“Ma’am, did he hurt you? Is everything okay?”

Cornell quickly composed himself and smiled at the man, an older African-American. “Everything is just fine,” Cornell said. “We just had a little lovers’ quarrel. I’m Judge Cornell Waters. This is my fiancé.” He pointed across the room. “There’s a picture of us right there on her desk.”

The man glanced at the photograph, then turned to Angela for confirmation. He gently gripped Angela’s shoulder. “Are you okay, ma’am? Did he hurt you?”

Angela could not stop shaking. She stared into Cornell’s cruel eyes. “No,” she said. “I’m . . . I’m fine.”

“I guess I’ll be leaving, then,” Cornell said, smiling at her. “I’ll call you later tonight.”

He walked out and the maintenance man started to leave as well.

“No, please wait!” Angela called after him. “Can you walk me downstairs?”

T
he report that Becker had received about Angela Evans and Zack Hargrove pissed him off. Contrary to his directive, Operation Buying Time was still up and running—just off the clock. That news had necessitated an immediate return trip to the U.S. Attorney’s Office in L.A.

That the two AUSAs were continuing to investigate Waverly Sloan was no real surprise. They were convinced that the death of their friend and case agent was no accident and they wanted someone to pay. Normally, Becker respected people who had principles and stood by them. These days, he didn’t come across many people who were willing to risk their careers for something they believed in. If this had been a different case, their actions would have been admirable.

They had yet to uncover any information of significance.  But the fact that they were still prying around and asking about Erickson was reason for concern. His contact at the D.A.’s Office reported that Angela Evans had been calling around trying to find out if an autopsy would be performed on Claire Erickson. Zack Hargrove had even tried to interview Claire’s sister, Sophia. Thankfully, she had refused to speak to him. Not surprisingly, Ashley had met with both of them.

He glanced at his watch. Zack Hargrove was set to join him in the conference room at the Spring Street courthouse in another ten minutes. Becker was about to put a well-orchestrated plan into action. Divide and conquer was one of the most important rules of war. If you kept your enemies busy fighting each other, they wouldn’t have the time or energy to focus on fighting you.

When Zack walked in, he displayed the outward appearance of a cool, collected young man. But Becker detected a jittery edge underneath his designer suit.