Bill Harvey Collection

by Peter O'Mahoney

  “You’ve worked here for a long time?”

  “Years and years. This is all I know. I wouldn’t know how to spend my time outside of work. And I don’t like spending time in my own head. Too many crazy thoughts up there. I’m always being told to take holidays, but I’m not going to leave this place. It defines who I am.”

  “If you spend a lot of time here, then you would know Carlos López.”

  “But like I said, mister, you haven’t answered my question.”

  Harvey drew a long sip of his lukewarm coffee, avoiding the temptation to spit it back out. He drummed his fingers gently on the counter, looked around to check that nobody was listening to their conversation, and then looked Louise straight in the eyes. “I’m his attorney, and he’s in some trouble.”

  “Why didn’t you say so?” She smiled. “If you’re a friend of Carlos, then you’re a friend of ours. Yeah, we all know Carlos. Known him for years. He comes in here a few times every week. Usually orders the beef taco. He’s a good man. A very good man. He’s done a lot—helped people with drug problems. He works down at the rehab center, and he helped my cousin kick the drugs. Carlos is a very good man. Almost a saint.”

  “Is he ever involved in trouble?”

  “Carlos?” She pondered. “No, Carlos isn’t trouble. Never.”

  “But?”

  “But the people he spends time with are trouble.”

  “Like who?”

  Louise leaned forward on the counter, squeezing her breasts together. It caught Harvey’s eye, and she felt happy about that.

  “You didn’t hear this from me.” Her voice was low. “Juan Lewis. Roberto Miles. Now both those men are trouble. Lewis especially. He looks mighty fine, dresses really well, but he’s trouble. Always has been. He has a collection of the best suits, but the only way he can afford them is to break the law. He’s the brains behind a lot of the crime that happens around here—money laundering, drugs, illegal gambling… but you didn’t hear any of this information from me.”

  “Of course not, Louise.”

  He looked into the eyes of the woman and saw a lost soul. Her shoulders were tight, her eyes had a tinge of yellow from too much vodka every night, and her hands shook a little as she held the coffee server. She was searching for something, but she was looking for it externally, blaming others for her pain, when the source of all her hurt was inside her.

  “Do you have a husband, Louise?” Harvey asked, attempting to charm her.

  “No, sir.”

  “I find that surprising.” He smiled. “You have very beautiful eyes.”

  “Mister, flattery will get you everywhere.”

  “Then tell me how often you see Lewis and Carlos in here together.”

  “Every week. They’re always here talking about something. Talking, talking, talking. I don’t listen to their conversations, but they come every week. They know all of the people around these parts.”

  “How about on September 12? Were they here that day?”

  “How would I know? That was a month ago, and I’m not a superwoman. I don’t have a super memory. Mister, I struggle to remember what color bra I put on in the mornings.”

  “You certainly present yourself as a superwoman, Louise. I’m sure a lot of people here actually believe that you are.” Harvey smiled.

  “Looks can be deceiving.”

  “Yes, they can. But if you can’t remember that day, then maybe there’s surveillance footage of that time?”

  “You’re smooth, Mister Attorney.” She grinned. “Let me check with the boss.”

  The voluptuous waitress disappeared out the back of the diner, and Harvey overheard a loud argument between Louise and her boss. She returned with a calm smile on her face.

  “My boss is more than happy for you to have a look at the footage… if, of course, you leave a large tip for the service.”

  Smoothly, Harvey placed a hundred-dollar bill next to his cold coffee.

  “That should cover it.” She smiled again. “Follow me this way.”

  The office at the back of the diner was exactly what he expected—small, confined, piles of old paperwork about to topple over. Kate Spencer would have a heart attack if she had to work in this office. The smell of cigarette smoke filled the air, drowning out the smell of Mexican spices cooking only a few feet away.

  The mustached older man sitting behind a cramped desk didn’t greet Harvey as he entered. He didn’t even stop staring at the computer in front of him.

  “September 12?” the man questioned.

  “Yes.”

  “Here it is.” The man turned the computer screen to face Harvey without a hint of emotion.

  Harvey studied the footage, scrolling through it at a reasonable pace, but not fast enough to miss anything important. The tape started at ten in the morning and finished at ten at night. With the advantage of technology, he was able to scroll through the twelve hours of footage in under a few minutes.

  “This is the whole day?” Harvey asked when the video finished.

  “Yes.”

  “I need a copy of this.” Harvey placed another hundred on the table in front of the stern man.

  The boss nodded and then shouted loudly, “Give me a USB, Louise.”

  Louise reappeared—having gotten used to her boss’ bellows from the back room. She found a USB drive in the drawers, and the man placed the drive in the computer, punched his keyboard aggressively, and then removed it to hand to Harvey.

  “Has anyone else asked about the footage from that day?”

  “No.” The old man shook his head.

  “If anyone else requests this file, then I need to know. You need to call me; do you understand?”

  The man gestured to the hundred-dollar bill Harvey put on the table.

  “Of course.” Harvey removed another hundred from his wallet. Sometimes, information cost a lot.

  Placing the USB in his jacket pocket, Harvey offered Louise a nod, then walked tall out of the diner, leaving his nauseating coffee behind. It was not often he spent three hundred dollars in a small diner, but he hoped this information would be more fulfilling than a large burrito.

  As soon as he stepped onto the sidewalk, he called his secretary. “Kate, I need Carlos in my office. Now.”

  Chapter 7

  Carlos fidgeted, rubbing his thumbs together while waiting for his lawyer. He sat in the chair opposite Harvey’s large desk, his head down, staring at the floor like a schoolboy waiting for the principal.

  “I want the truth.” Harvey stormed into the office. “No more lies.”

  “I’m not sure what you’re talking about?” His answer was honest, but only because he had too many lies to protect.

  “Tell me where you were when they raided your apartment on September 12.”

  With an aggressive overtone, Harvey’s briefcase slapped down onto the office table, and he huffed into a chair, leaning forward, resting his thick arms on the desk.

  “I was at the El Mejor diner. I was having lunch with Juan Lewis when they raided my apartment. We had the beef taco and a few coffees. That’s what I told the police when they arrested me, and that’s what I’m telling you.”

  “How about you tell me the truth instead.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “If this is going to work then you and I are going to have to be honest with one another. I have seen the security footage of the diner for that day and neither you, nor Lewis, were in the diner at the time, or at any time during that day. Where were you?”

  “The diner has security footage?” Carlos was surprised. “That place has nothing worth protecting. Why would they have security footage?”

  “Lucky for us, nobody else, including the prosecution, has checked if the diner has security footage. They seem to think that it’s not important where you were at the time of the raid. They haven’t checked your alibi. They’re only concerned with the fact that they found the drugs in your apartment.”

  “If they d
on’t think it’s important, then why do you think it’s important?”

  “The truth is important to me, Carlos.”

  “Look, I can’t remember where I was at the time.”

  “Is it best that I speak to Lewis about this?”

  Carlos paused and looked to make sure the door was shut behind him. “We’re still covered by the attorney-client agreement, aren’t we?”

  Harvey nodded slowly, not taking his eyes off Carlos.

  “Ok. Sure. Look, Lewis came to me and said that he needed an alibi for the day. I agreed that I would help him. He came to the apartment, and we both slipped out the side exit.”

  “Then where were you all day?”

  “I was driving around.”

  “Why?”

  “I couldn’t be seen anywhere. I had to make sure that I wasn’t seen on any surveillance footage. So, I drove to the State Forest in a friend’s car, and just drove the roads for most of the day. I left my car near the apartment.”

  “And Lewis?”

  “I don’t know where he was. I dropped him off, and I picked him up four hours later. He went off to conduct a ‘business transaction’ and called me after lunch—told me that the time had passed and we could go back to my apartment. Problem was, when we came back, the police were crawling all over my apartment. Suddenly, he was as much my alibi as I was his.”

  “Why did he need an alibi?”

  “I didn’t ask. I never do.”

  “This is a common occurrence?” Despite spending the last ten years within smelling distance of criminal activity, the world of drug runs and organized crime still surprised Harvey.

  “I’ve done it before, but it’s not common. He usually walks into my apartment, we have a coffee, and then we sneak out via the laundry room window. Usually, we say that we were at my apartment all day. It’s never been tested before. But this time, we couldn’t say that we were at the apartment because it was filled with cops.”

  “Why didn’t you stay at the apartment? Why did you have to leave?”

  “I was the driver. We always use a friend’s car that has dark tinted windows. I had to drop Lewis off and pick him up.”

  “Where did you drop him off?”

  “I dropped him off at a Taco Bell in Downtown, and picked him up there four hours later.”

  “Four hours is a long time to spend at Taco Bell. So tell me where he really went.”

  “I never know why he needs an alibi, and I never ask. I don’t want to know. All I’m doing is helping out my cousin, which is my family duty. We look after each other. He helps me out with cash, and I help him out as long as I’m not doing anything criminal.”

  “With cash?”

  Carlos shrugged, uncomfortable with the notion. “I don’t have a paying job. All my time is spent at the rehab center. Lewis… he supports me when I need it. I have savings that I invested, but for day-to-day things, he helps me out.”

  “What about your lawyer? Is he paying for that too?”

  “No.” Carlos coughed loudly. “My savings are paying your wages.”

  Harvey paused, letting the tension in the room dissipate. He opened his briefcase, removed his notes, and reviewed them before he continued. “What do you think Lewis was doing during the time you dropped him off?”

  “I don’t think about it. All I was doing was helping a family member.”

  “So when did you make the decision to say that you were at the diner?”

  “When we drove back to my apartment. We could see all the cop cars out front. We couldn’t say that we were in the apartment; we had to use another destination. That’s why we chose the diner. We’re always there, and nobody would remember which day was which. We didn’t think they would have security footage.”

  Harvey scribbled more notes, trying to piece together the picture of September 12. He had no doubt that Carlos was telling the truth, but he was no closer to winning the case that threatened the freedom of a reformed drug addict.

  “It must be painful for you, Carlos. You spend your time working in drug rehabilitation, helping people recover, and your cousin is the person putting people in there. He’s the one that’s dealing drugs, and you have to clean up his mess. That must hurt you on some level.”

  “Personal choice causes addiction. Loneliness. Emptiness. Being hollow causes addiction. Not Lewis. Just because the drugs are there doesn’t mean that someone has to take them. You don’t blame the shopkeepers for alcoholism, just like you don’t blame the drug dealers for the addiction. It’s a personal decision.”

  “And yet, you have enormous guilt around your involvement in the drug trade.”

  Carlos fumbled his hand through his pocket, reaching for more cigarettes. “I guess I try to justify what Lewis does. I know the truth, but if the police can’t stop him, how am I supposed to? I love the man, but he deals in death.”

  Harvey flicked open a paper file, his eyes searching through the notes.

  “Lewis’ rap sheet is clean. He has never been charged with any criminal offense and has never even been taken in by the police. He’s either very good, very smart, or very lucky.”

  “He’s all three. His father was a dealer and taught him everything he knew. He has always been well-connected, even before he met Hardgrave.”

  “Where does he get the drugs?”

  Carlos paused, thinking about how much information he could divulge. “I…”

  “I want the whole truth, Carlos.”

  He nodded. “The drugs are produced in a small lab in Mexico, smuggled over the border, and then run through the streets. Lewis and Roberto Miles run the operations, and they’re worth millions. Many millions. They don’t get their hands dirty though. They’re at the top of the tree, and they avoid dealing with anyone they don’t know.”

  “And you? What’s your involvement in it? Where do you fit into the Lewis business puzzle?”

  “I used to run the labs in Mexico. I would fly down once every two weeks to make sure everything was working fine. It was just a job to me, although I was well paid by Lewis. I saved enough money to get out of the game. Now, Lewis and I are just family, rather than business associates. I keep telling him to get out of the game while he’s ahead, but he likes the money. He has dreams of becoming big. Real big. I keep telling him that the bigger he gets, the bigger the target he grows on his back, but he doesn’t want to hear it. He thinks he’s invincible.”

  “It appears he still is,” Harvey said as he started to write notes on his pad. “How deep was your involvement in the drug dealing?”

  “I managed the labs that produced the gear.” Carlos nodded. “I never stood on a street corner and dealt drugs. No. I had nothing to do with that side of things. I was only responsible for making sure the gear was good, and that the people in Mexico were playing nicely.”

  “But you knew that the labs were producing drugs?”

  “Of course.”

  “Tell me how Lewis has made all his high-profile connections.”

  “He was always just one of those people that knew people. Local people though. But it all started to get big when he began dating Judge Hardgrave’s daughter, Michelle. He hassled the judge a lot. He got a lot of information from the judge, just through extortion. I think he was using Michelle, in the end, to keep close to the judge. And because of Judge Hardgrave, he met with numerous high-ranking police officers and politicians.”

  “Did he love her, or was he just using her?”

  “He loved her. Deeply. She’s a troubled woman, with a long addiction to drugs, and she was estranged from her father for many years. Lewis reconnected them after they hadn’t talked for a long time. And Michelle, being a drug addict, would do anything for Lewis. So, he started setting up regular meetings between the two of them. A father’s love for his daughter can make a man do very strange things. I think the judge was just happy to have a chance with his daughter again and he would do anything to keep that connection. Of course, Judge Hardgrave was a wealthy ma
n, and that meant that Michelle was going to inherit a lot of money.”

  “So Lewis would have profited from Hardgrave’s death?”

  “Through Michelle, yes.”

  The pen hovered over the pad, stuck as the thoughts raced through Harvey’s head. “Carlos, the further we get into this case; the more Lewis seems to be involved. The more Lewis gets involved, the more this case is going to escalate. You’ve given the police a sworn statement of your whereabouts at the time of the raid, so we can’t change that, but it’s going to be a sticking point for the prosecution. I’m going to consider our options, but in the meantime, I need you to stay away from Lewis. Understood?”

  “Sure.”

  “Good.” Harvey closed the file in front of him. “We’re done for now, but I don’t want any more falsehoods.”

  “Yes, sir.” Carlos bowed his head, then stood to leave the room. “When will I hear from you again?”

  “Within the week. Kate will call you and set up a time to meet. But remember, stay away from Lewis.”

  After Carlos had closed the door behind him, Harvey paced the floor in his office, reflecting on the two cases before him. Hardgrave had mentioned his daughter and her addiction. He blamed himself for it, and it seemed, rightly so.

  On a rare night when Judge Hardgrave had consumed too much fine whiskey, he opened up about his troubled past.

  He had been beaten weekly by his drunken father as a child, and he carried that pain into his first marriage. Despite the joy of having a loving wife, a beautiful daughter and a great career, he would come home drunk most nights of the week and beat his wife, often in full view of a young Michelle.

  After years of torment, Hardgrave’s first wife died a lonely death following a short battle with cancer.

  At the time of her mother’s death, Michelle was a troubled sixteen-year-old, and she left the family home, wrongly blaming her father for her mother’s death. She found comfort in the highs that drugs provided. That’s when her path crossed with Juan Lewis. She knew if she were close to him, she wouldn’t have to buy drugs. She could provide him the comfort that he needed, and he would give her the highs that she desperately craved.