Chapter 1

Chapter 1

 

As soon as Stephanie Marshall opened the front door of her Key Largo condo, she ran straight to her computer. “Good thing I rarely turn my computer off,” she said to herself, as if she would not survive the minutes it would take her to turn it on.  She quickly retrieved Daniel Perry’s telephone number from her old contact list, and then dialed the number.

“Hello,” a male voice answered.

“Dan, is that you? This is Stephanie,” she said, still fuming about what had happened only a few hours earlier, and not bothering to say hello.

“Well, long time no talk.  It’s been years. So, what do you want?” Dan asked brusquely, surprised at the call.

“Don’t play games with me, Dan,” Stephanie interrupted him harshly, “Why did you send the video to my boss?”

“What are you talking about?” asked Dan, not understanding why Stephanie seemed upset.

“We’ve been divorced for over seven years, and the video that we made together was supposed to be destroyed long ago, after our divorce.  So why did you do it?” asked Stephanie.  She was angry, and for good reason.  She had just been fired from her job at a private elementary school after the principal had received the video and told her that this was not the image he expected of his Assistant Principal.

 “I admit that I didn’t destroy it.  But I didn’t send any video to your boss,” Dan protested.

“So tell me how did my boss get it? The only ones who knew about the video were you and me, and you were the only one who had a copy,” Stephanie said, not believing Dan.

“What’s wrong with you?” shot back Dan, now angry himself.  “First you emailed me and told me to mail it to you if I still had it, and now that I’ve done what you’ve asked, you’re complaining.”

“I never emailed you,” protested Stephanie.

“So then, you’re telling me that someone is using your name, email address and even your mailing address in California, just to get your video?”, asked Dan, still fuming from Stephanie’s accusations.

“All I can say is that I didn’t email you and I haven’t lived in California for almost four years,” replied Stephanie.

“Well, it’s not my problem is it?” Dan said, “As you said, we’ve been divorced for over seven years,” Dan added before he hung up on Stephanie.

Stephanie didn’t know it yet, but her problems were going to get worse.

 

##

 

As Stephanie was debating what had happened, and how she was going to deliver the news to Gregory Roberts, her fiancé, who was also Miami’s District Attorney, little did she know that someone else was listening in on the line during her telephone conversation with Dan.

After the conversation ended, the person then grabbed her cell phone and made a call.

“What’s next?” The private detective on the other end asked the caller.

“It’s time for the fiancé and his prominent in-laws to know about the video, don’t you think?” The caller said.  It wasn’t a question, it was an order, and the private detective knew it.  He liked the job that the caller had given him.  He had made more money in one month from the job than he would normally have made in a year or even two.  All the caller wanted was secrecy and someone who had the guts to bend the rules if it came down to it.  This job suited the private detective fine.  Everyone had a price, and the caller seemed to know his.

“Okay.  I’m on it.  I really thank you for giving me this gig,” the detective said to the caller.

“Don’t worry about it,” Stacy Marshall replied before hanging up.  “You have caused me so much grief Stephanie, and I’m going to destroy you,” Stacy said to herself before putting on a yellow bikini and diving into the swimming pool of her Fisher Island mansion in Miami Beach.

##

 

Even when polls showed that Gregory Roberts should cruise to victory in his reelection bid, Gregory was not taking anything for granted.  The election was two months away and he was still busy lining up new donors for his campaign. Not unlike many cosmopolitan cities in America, running a campaign in Miami could be quite expensive. Commercials would have to be run in English, Spanish and Haitian Creole, and campaign signs would also have to be in as many languages. Although he reveled in the spotlight that came with the job, this evening however, Gregory Roberts wanted to be alone.  He was having an awful day.

When he first ran for District Attorney, he promised the voters that his office would seek to crack down on violent drug-related crimes.  To some extent, his office had succeeded. As soon as he took office, his office vigorously prosecuted drug dealers and drug suppliers as he had promised, and put many behind bars. However, all his work could be for nothing due to the case of Miguel Chavez, a Panamanian-born American, considered the biggest drug distributor in Florida.

It was last year when the police, acting on a tip, got a search warrant to search Miguel Chavez’s home, where they discovered large pallets of cocaine with a street value in excess of seven million dollars.  Mr. Chavez, who was visiting Venezuela at the time of the search, was arrested as soon as his plane landed in Miami. Throughout the trial, Mr. Chavez claimed that he was innocent and that the drugs were planted by his enemies who wanted to frame him.

Gregory put his best prosecutors on the case to ensure that his office got the conviction that the City was seeking.  However, less than two hours ago, the jury had returned a verdict of not guilty.

As soon as the verdict was read, Gregory who was in the courtroom, stormed out and drove straight home, dejected.  He was still watching the evening news re-telling his office’s courtroom defeat, when the phone rang.

“Mother, can I call you later?  I’m having a bad day,” Gregory said, as soon as he picked up.

“I saw the news about the Miguel Chavez case and I’m sorry,” Mrs. Olivia Roberts said. ”However, I’ve something else to tell you.”

“Can it wait?  My day is not going well as you can tell.”

“Sorry son. It’s not going to get better. I have to talk to you about your fiancée.  She’s in a sex video.”