Page 16 of A Lifetime in 30 Days
She didn’t want to answer that, didn’t want to risk incriminating herself in a way she was absolutely clueless about, so she folded her hands together and asked, “Can you explain these charges to me?” She had a right to know what she was being accused of; whether she decided to answer any of their questions, she knew she had that right.
“Like I stated at the cemetery,” Detective Parish began, “you are charged with conspiracy to embezzle money from the Lennox Casino.”
“What evidence do you have?” she asked.
Parish tilted his head, one corner of his mouth lifting. “Oh, that’s right, you work at a law firm. So I’m guessing you figure you know how to handle this.”
She raised a brow at his comment.
“I know how to handle myself, period,” she replied. “That has nothing to do with where I work.” One thing she couldn’t stand was someone underestimating her, whether it be because she was a woman or because she was aBlackwoman. She was mature, educated, and unintimidated by a title or a badge.
Beaumont nodded and rubbed a finger over his chin. “I see why he married you.”
“What?” Vanna asked, her ire rising.
Parish chuckled. “You’re here because we found the bank account you and your husband shared. The account that currently has a balance of approximately $173,000 in it. But I guess you already know the balance.”
She was two seconds away from screamingWhat. The. Hell?But she sat there blinking at the detective instead.
One hundred and seventy-three thousand dollars. In a bank account with her and Caleb’s name on it. A joint account.
Her temples throbbed, and her breathing came just a little quicker, anxiety slamming into her with an iron fist.
“Cat got your tongue?” Beaumont asked with a wide grin.
“Why don’t you go ahead and tell us what the plan was, Mrs. Carlson. We can make this process short and sweet.” He pulled a pen out of the inside pocket of his suit jacket, then opened the folder in front of him. “Or we can make it long and painful. Emotionally, I mean, because we certainly wouldn’t do anything to harm someone as ... ah, I mean, someone like you.”
This bastard. She’d thought his gaze was lingering just a little longer than necessary on the cleavage displayed by the low cut of her jumpsuit. Which actually would’ve been a lot lower if she hadn’t pinned it this morning because showing up at her estranged husband’s funeral with miles of boob on display hadn’t seemed like a good idea. Still, with the little bit that was showing, it didn’t mean the detective’s lecherous gaze was welcome.
“Or ...,” she said, and took a deep breath. While her knee still shook beneath the table, not enough to have her heels clicking on the floor but still enough to remind herself she wasn’t as calm as she would like to portray, she released that breath as slowly as she could manage. “You can get me a phone so I can call my lawyer.”
August 9
Thirteen hours and a trip to see the commissioner later, Vanna was released on citation. As she didn’t have any belongings to retrieve from the evidence room, she clenched the paperwork she’d been given in one hand and walked with her head held high through the double doors at the back of the facility.
It was almost 2:00 a.m. now, but when she’d called Jamaica—three hours after she’d told the detectives she wanted to make the call—to see if they’d found her an attorney, she was told that they were already on their way and would be waiting for her when she was released.
The temperature had dropped a bit so that the balmy atmosphere that had hung over them during the burial service was now a damp, chilly air. The puddle she splashed with her first step outside told her it had rained. With a murmured curse, she continued across the dark parking lot, where she saw Granny’s black car and Jamaica’s white Lexus NX right beside it.
They looked like a trio hanging out in a high school parking lot, with Granny sitting on the trunk of her car, large-framed prescription glasses she needed for night driving on her nose, cigarette between her lips, and Frito in her lap. Ronni leaned her backside against Granny’s car, while Jamaica was across from her, relaxing against her truck.
“You cannot be serious,” Ronni said to Jamaica as Vanna grew closer. “You’re really going to start making wedding plans with him?”
“Wait a minute, now,” Jamaica said with a shake of her head. “I know you’re not about to tell me I shouldn’t get married. You’ve been married since I met you, and about five years before that.”
Ronni, who was five feet three inches tall and never wore heels because then she would be taller than her five-foot-five-inch husband, Croy, propped both hands on her hips. “I’ve been married for seventeen years.”
“And considering you’re only forty years old, you’ve been married the majority of your adult life. So, tell me again why me deciding to marry the guy I’ve been dating and living with for the past three years is a problem?” Jamaica was the same height as Vanna, with a mahogany complexion and a penchant for fake eyelashes that were way too long and often left her looking cartoonish.
“I didn’t say getting married was a problem,” Ronni argued. “I said marryinghimwas a problem. He doesn’t love anyone more than he loves himself, J.”
“Well, I love myself too, and so do you—or at least you should,” was Jamaica’s retort.
“Both of y’all hush, ’cause neither of your men is worth a damn,” Granny said, and blew out the smoke from the puff she’d taken. “Well,I’ll give Croy points for taking care of his house and kids. But he still works you like an employee, Ronni. And you, Jamaica—that man doesn’t do a damn thing but beg, cry, and play the victim with you. But look, if y’all like it, I love it, and my grandbaby’s coming, so hush it up.”
She tucked Frito under an arm and hopped down off that car with way more speed and ease than Vanna would’ve imagined a seventy-eight-year-old woman could. Granny had changed from the long, dark-gray linen dress she’d worn to the funeral into a pink-and-black tie-dyed caftan. Rows of chunky bracelets—Granny’s favorite jewelry—jingled at her wrist as she plucked the cigarette away and extended an arm toward her.
Vanna walked into her grandmother’s embrace. Granny always gave the best hugs, and tonight, when she needed it most, wasn’t any different.
