Revenge: A Leyla James Mystery, #2

By A. Eveline

Leyla James, a Washington D.C. regulatory lawyer, is pulled into a money laundering plot that spirals into murder and kidnapping. Furious at being manipulated once again by an amorphous investor group that is using her firm for its own illegal purposes, she investigates the disappearance of a witness with the reluctant help of her lover and a wary private investigator.

• Language: English
• Publisher: A. Eveline
• Release date: Nov 8, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201714048

A. Eveline

A. Eveline is the pen name of Audrey Rasmussen. Audrey is a retired lawyer living in the Washington, D.C. area. She vacations in Rehoboth, Delaware and Mexico. She is enjoying her retirement by writing about Leyla James and her encounters with danger. 

Book preview

Chapter 1: Wintry Mix.

It was supposed to be a lazy Sunday morning. The sleet was hitting the window, but our bedroom was warm and cozy. We were happily in bed, way past our workaday roll-out. Cam, my partner, and I planned a relaxed snow day: a small vacation from our high stress jobs.

Or so we thought.

Want some coffee? he yawned, as he disentangled himself from me and the comforter to pick up his robe off the floor He padded into the kitchen. I rolled over and looked out the window. The shade was drawn up from the bottom and I could see icicles hang off from the skeleton trees. Yuck. I hate winter.

I smelled the coffee, then heard Cam open the door to retrieve the paper.

What the... he yelled, walking into the bedroom. I was facing outdoors and putting on one of his wool shirts, my version of a robe.

What’s the matter? I turned around and saw him looking at an envelope. He handed it to me. The envelope was addressed to Lyerla. Could be pronounced Liarla. My name is Leyla and it might be that my correspondent didn’t think I told the truth.

It came with the newspaper?

No, it was shoved under the door. What’s going on that I don’t know, Cam asked, his crestfallen face focused on me.

I promise you. I haven’t been sleuthing if that’s what you think, I sighed. ‘I’m done with that."

Well, the last time... he said.

Well, the last time, we did finally get back together. That was the highlight! Remember that? So that part was good.

True, but the rest sucked.

I know. I turned over the envelope and opened the flap that wasn’t sealed. I slid the note out. Printed in bold was "I’m watching you." I exhaled and handed it to Cam. He took it with a tissue. Oh, fingerprints. But then I’m a lawyer, not a detective. But neither is Cam.

Do you think that this might be at all connected to the Waters killing? I mused.

No. That was a robbery. Cam said flatly.

That’s what the police said.

But you don’t believe it.

I’m just saying that he had a lot of enemies. I should know. I was one of them. The Executor Richard Waters was, to be honest, a pain in the butt who’d refused to do anything to facilitate a smooth resolution of the Phillips Estate. He felt that if there was ransom money to be made by Phillips’ claims, which I and almost everyone else viewed as frivolous, then he was going to hang in there and wring it out of our clients.

Just because he behaved like a bully doesn’t necessarily mean that someone would actually knock him off. It’s reasonable to assume that it was a robbery. His briefcase, wallet and keys were taken. So was his car and his office was ransacked, according to yesterday’s paper.

That’s what gives it away, to my mind. What robber steals a briefcase, money, a car and then ransacks someone’s office? That person had to know who his victim was and where his office was. Maybe that robber was looking for something important in Waters’ possession.

And you’re assuming that it’s related to D.L.’s murder. Cam sounded glum.

That murder had Washington talking last year, when a high-profile woman who practiced a form of layperson’s law at the Radio Frequency Administration, the RFA, was killed in a conference room in that federal building. I had played a minor role in the murder investigation. It wasn’t exactly a minor role, but that’s another story.

He was her executor. And he was making waves in all her remaining RFA proceedings.

But why would you be watched? Cam said.

I don’t know. I’m not doing anything more than anyone else.

Except looking into her last financial ‘arrangement.’

"I thought that it would be helpful to know how that transaction occurred and who funded the enterprise."

It looks like someone doesn’t like you prying. And they know where you live.

I’m not prying, just doing my job as a lawyer for my client.

Let’s have breakfast.

I’ll make a souffle. I responded brightly.

Cam stared at me, feigning shock. Really?

Well, you should probably accept the offer. Who knows when I’ll actually volunteer again?

Sure. He laughed. His handsome face looked happier now. He followed me into the kitchen.

I took the recipe out of a drawer where I stuff things that I rip out of the newspaper. I circled the kitchen, gathering the ingredients while Cam sipped his coffee.

I like to see other people in this house participate in the cooking. He observed, with a smirk.

Uh, huh. What’s in the paper this morning? Anything more about the killing?

Robbery? I’ll check. What are you going to do about the note?

Talk to Dave?

Dave had helped me with my dust-up last year. I thought that I would never have to use his PI services again. Life is full of surprises.

I guess that’s better than the police right now. Who knows if this is a prank?

You’re dreaming. I sighed.

I’m just wishing for the best.

Yeah, I know. My response sounded gloomier than I wanted. It’s just that the last time was one life altering experience. There were even a few minutes when my continuing to live was tenuous. I really did not want that to happen again. Suddenly, I was angry. What the hell? Am I being persecuted again?

Cam had the paper on the kitchen island, paging through the Metro section. Just a small piece correcting where the murder took place. It was outside a lawyer’s office where Waters just had an appointment.

Did they say who the lawyer was?

No. It just says that the murder likely took place at about 8:30 on Friday night. He wasn’t found until midnight in the parking lot.

The question was whether it was a robbery turned murder or murder disguised as a robbery. I stood on the murder side. A couple of my cohorts had weighed in by email yesterday. Jean McInerny, my longtime friend who escaped the high-pressure law firm life to an only slightly less insane world of federal law practice, thought that Waters had turned out just as obstreperous as his client and thus succumbed to an enemy. Adam Ross, a fellow sufferer of D.L., thought that it was just a robbery gone bad. His thinking was that her murderer had died and there was no-one left to pursue anything. I have some reason to believe, based on his behavior last year, that he might know.

Why are you putting cottage cheese in the souffle?

The recipe called for it. Relax, it also includes cheddar.

Real cheese.

Says you.

Cam came around the counter and put his arms around me.

I exhaled and leaned against him. Oh, God, here we go again. I said it with an edge, though. I wasn’t going to be a victim this time.

You can control this. Repeat after me: we have learned our lesson and we won’t go places that put us in danger anymore, right? Cam was on the right wavelength, except for the last part.

I’ll try. I promised, knowing that someone else had other plans for me. I put the souffle in the oven and said, I’ll call Dave.

I scrambled around for Dave’s phone number, then found it in my phone’s contacts. I punched his number. His voicemail picked up.

Hi, Dave. A voice from the past. This is Leyla James. Sorry to bother you on a Sunday. I hope all is well with you. I’m calling about a note that I received this morning under the door. Just like old times. Remember? It said, ‘I’m watching you.’ I’m wondering if it’s real or a prank and what I should do? I’d like to not get involved with the police. You know what happened the last time. Let me know what you think. Thanks!

Hopefully, we will hear from him with good news.

The timer went off. The souffle was ready. It was good!

It was afternoon, the sleet was slowly turning into snow. We sprawled on the couch watching Small Axe, a series about Caribbean immigrants in England from the 60s through the 80s. I was somehow surprised that their situation was so like the Blacks in the US. I looked at Cam. It’s the same brutality. I thought that the UK had solved their problems peaceably while we continue to make a big deal out of getting along together.

Cam shook his head. That was part of Brexit. No more people of other cultures.

Then it was glossed over.

Sort of. He responded. OK, I wasn’t paying attention, but obviously, he was.

I’ll leave all that to you, I said, Cam was an undersecretary at the State Department. I often get small doses of foreign policy for dummies. And to be fair, he gets mini lectures on regulatory law for bystanders, who probably don’t care. It evens out.

My phone rang. It was Dave. Hey, Dave. How are things? We updated each other on our lives. I told him that Cam was there with me. Cam waved his hand. I put the phone on speaker so that he could hear Dave.

Cam says hi.

Tell him to keep you under control, if that’s possible.

I hissed at him. Cam laughed, Impossible.

Dave told me that his business was going great. He hesitated, then said that he was dating someone he had met when they were on the DC police force. The man was now an executive at a Maryland security firm. Dave was coming out to me! I congratulated him. I looked at Cam. He gave me a no-biggie shrug and then, a thumbs up.

There was a pause, then Dave asked. Now. What about this envelope?

‘Yeah. Same thing as the last time, under the door. Is that a coincidence or an MO? And, you know me, I then started wondering if it could be somehow related to the Waters murder that happened on Friday night."

That was a robbery. Dave said, sounding a lot like Cam. And I don’t see the connection.

It could have been a robbery but with an intentional murder. I suggested.

I haven’t investigated it, but it appears to be a regular robbery.

But I should tell you that Waters was the Phillips’ estate executor and was directing her remaining proceedings at the RFA. Waters had an attorney with him in conferences but there was no doubt about who was in control. He was as disruptive as D.L. was. He held all her files. Also, there have been rumors that her fatal meeting at the RFA was an effort to reveal criminal actions for her financial benefit. There may be documents relating to that.

Wait, you are getting ahead of yourself – and me. All of this guessing resulted from a note being placed at your door? He didn’t even honor my thoughts with a more dignified term, speculation.

Cam pretended to watch the movie while listening to the conversation. I would have too. He was alternating frowns and approval. The approval was for Dave.

I am speculating, I know. I sighed. But I was after Waters to give us documentation on that last auction transaction. He was avoiding any discussion at all, just stopped me cold. I think that he was hiding something.

Do you have time to see me tomorrow? Dave asked.

Yes, if I can come after 6 PM. I’ll bring the note. Okay?

Sure. See you then.

Thanks, Dave.

So, what do you think? I asked, putting my phone back on the coffee table.

I’m hoping that we get this little thing solved asap and move on.

Me too. I’d just like to know who is watching me and why.

I got up and looked out the glass door at the weather. It’s really coming down. I’m wondering if we’ll work from home tomorrow.

I can’t. Cam said. I have a meeting with the Secretary and the staff to talk about our trip to Rome on Friday. We are trying to get our briefing books up to date and there are too many people on the project. Everyone wants input and no one has control. Someone needs to take control.

Sounds like a job for you. Now that we had a souffle for brunch, what shall we have for dinner?

I sat down next to him, put my arms around him and kissed him on the mouth. He was stability in my wacko life.

What’s up, he asked, looking at me with a teasing smile.

I’m just thinking about something more fun than planning dinner. Interested?

It was dark when Cam called for Thai delivery. No need for a menu. He ordered by rote. He opened a bottle of wine, took out some grapes and cheese and we sat down to wait for the delivery.

I clinked Cam’s glass. Nice way to spend a wintry afternoon. So glad to have him around.

I’m sleeping and feel a presence in the room. Someone is standing next to my side of the bed, looking at me intensely. I hear him breathing. It is a man in a tan zippered jacket. He reaches down and tries to touch me. I scream.

Holy... Cam sat up in shock. What happened?

I had a terrible dream. I gasped. I dreamed that a man was standing beside me, looking at me and he started to reach down to touch me. Go back to sleep. I’m okay. I’m sorry I woke you. I leaned over and kissed him. I’m glad you’re here. It was hell alone.

I got up and decided to read. It seemed like old times where bad people lurked in my life and in my dreams. I got out my latest World War II book and headed to the living room. Maybe the evolutionary tale of British war planes will put me back to sleep.

I woke up the next morning on the couch with the book on my chest. Cam was looking down at me and shaking his head. I knew what he was thinking, and it was probably like mine. Welcome back to Child’s Play, and Chuckie is out there somewhere in the weeds. This time, I vowed, it will be different.

Chapter 2: Just Another Manic Monday.

The snow did not continue . Instead, it turned into a sleety rain that keeps walkers and runners inside their houses trying to work out in front of video screens. That kind of work-out didn’t seem right to me. But it was part of a Washington winter.

The traffic was light on my way to the office. There was a liberal leave policy in effect and much of Washington was taking advantage of it. I had decided I didn’t want to be in the apartment alone that day. Plus, I did need to work on a long-postponed project and I had the meeting with Dave that night.

My phone was ringing when I walked into the office. It was a number that I didn’t recognize, and it rolled over just as I picked up the phone. A minute later, there was a voicemail. It was a woman that I had befriended. Then she betrayed me. Louise.

She left a long message. I sat down to listen and the relief from the trauma that I had lived through only a short time ago started ebbing away. It was becoming clear that story was not over. There was someone out there that wasn’t done with us yet.

She said, Hi Leyla. It’s Louise. I know that I shouldn’t even be calling you. I wouldn’t have if there was anyone else that would understand the situation. I am so sorry about the last time we were together. I know that I don’t have any right to call you, let alone to ask you for help. But again, I am being threatened. She left her phone number.

I knew that she had been bullied last year and that is why I hadn’t raised any issues against her. My adversary Leon, in full psychosis, had tried to kill me and two of his assistants, Louise Richards and her boyfriend, a legal gofer. With his plans thwarted, Leon took his own life as police approached his hideout. Louise’s boyfriend was convicted as a co-conspirator to murder and is in jail. Louise was not prosecuted because there was no evidence that she helped with the murder or with an earlier bugging of the Administration. I had been with her at the end, and I was the only one who could have testified against her. I was not vengeful then. I understood. Her boyfriend was another issue.

I returned the call. I didn’t exactly warmly embrace her, but I at least was speaking to her.

Hi, Louise.

Hi, Leyla. Sorry to bother you. She sounded humbled, penitent.

What’s happening?

I thought that I had left everything bad in D.C.

What’s going on?

I got a letter from Richard Waters, the Executor. He accused me of theft of some documents. He threatened to sue me.

That’s interesting. Richard Waters was killed on Friday night, after meeting with his lawyer. He was apparently accosted near his car in the parking lot. He was robbed and shot during the process. Whoever did it took his car, then looted his office.

Oh my God. I thought that Leon was running the show. When he died, I thought it was over.

Yes. It seems that it wasn’t just mental illness. He seemed to be working for someone, who now has picked up the pieces after the FBI report was released. That person is now preparing to complete the job.

The FBI reported that Leon Gallagher had run a scheme to get rid of D.L. Phillips because she demanded an agreement revision with his law firm’s client, Anna Blake. D.L. and Anna were owners of an auction applicant that had won invaluable frequency licenses at the Administration. I was always perplexed about D.L.’s relationship with her. When D.L. died, the ownership went to Anna. I never could figure out the connection.

Do you know what documents Waters wanted specifically?

Documents that were part of D.L.’s last auction.

Those were the documents that I was requesting from him. He didn’t seem the least bit disturbed about them with me. I believe that he passed off the documents as inconsequential. But he was threatening to sue Louise to get them. Maybe they were much more than just inconsequential and he had been lying. I wonder why he needed them now.

Why did he think that you had them?

The lawyer that my ex-friend Miriam works for told a lot of people that I had taken D.L.’s files.

I had heard that, too.

Did you?

She became guarded. Waters gave me short notice to leave. He wanted me out of the office immediately. I took what I needed to ensure the inheritance payments will continue for Ginny and we left for Montana.

Yup, I thought. That’s Louise’s life mantra: I took what I needed.

Just keep them safe. Don’t tell anyone else about it.

Yeah. It would cause a lot of problems.

I’m surprised that there wasn’t a search for it.

There was and the conclusion was that D.L. destroyed them. But Waters didn’t believe it. He thought I took them.

Anyway, I guess that you don’t have to worry about a lawsuit now, Louise.

It depends on who takes over Waters’ job. It still could come up, I think.

Possibly. The parties to one of her proceedings are meeting this week. Maybe we will find out who the new executor is, then.

Leyla, I hate to ask. Would you let me know? I was really horrible to you and you did not even tell the prosecutor about me.

Louise, it was Ginny. I knew she shouldn’t be alone.

Louise let out a stifled laugh sob, I was so concerned about her, I joined Leon. You were so concerned about her, you let me off the hook. She’s a lucky little girl.

Not so little anymore, I guess.

8th grader and thinks she needs everything a 16-year-old has.

I’m sure you’ll keep her reined in, Louise. I laughed, knowing that Louise indulged her daughter’s every whim. Keep me up to date. By the way, are you still friends with your neighbor in Fairfax County?

Oh, Nancy Greene. Yes, we still email occasionally. It’s good to get the news from the neighborhood. I wanted a contact if I couldn’t reach Louise. In the past she had fallen off the map. I had no idea what she – and I – were up against. I would likely need access to her.

But you’re happy in Montana? Outside the beltway? Is there really a big sky out there? I have never been in Montana.

It’s great. Louise said. But I could do without the winters.

Wow, I feel that way about D.C., I cannot imagine yours.

But Ginny and I do love it here. She is learning to ride horses and her school has put her in advanced placement. Fairfax County was good for her in that way. We’ve visited my parents a couple of times. They’ve taken a liking to their only grandchild. Ginny doesn’t understand my distance from them, but they do leave us alone about religion, now. I guess that they’d rather have family, then religious conversions. Louise gave a small laugh.

It sounds good, Louise. I wish you the best.

Oh, the same to you, Leyla. I appreciate that you’re talking with me.

It’s fine. Keep in touch.

Little did I know.

So the rain continued pelting on my window. My phone kept ringing and the group brief slowly progressed. I can understand Cam’s complaint. Working with multiple lawyers on a brief is the worst of the worst. We ended the day with let’s play who is the smartest person on the call. Yawn. One team member enlisted his associate to proof it and we would have one last chance to preen ourselves one more time. Ho hum.

Dot stopped at my door and waved goodnight. I looked at the clock. I’d better wrap things up. I had to see Dave at 6 PM.