by Al Lamanda
“I was just thinking of calling you for a little horizontal exercise,” Jane said, as she lit a cigarette.
I took the chair opposite her desk. “One of these days you’re going to set off the smoke alarm and have to explain to the fire department why it went off.”
“I disabled the alarm in my office,” Jane said. “What’s that folder you’re holding?”
I set it on the desk and slid it to Jane.
She picked it up, opened the folder, and asked, “Who is Ethan Jaden Smith besides some punk arrested for check fraud?”
“The C.I. who fingered Walt,” I said.
“This loser?”
“What do you have on him that’s not in the report I got from Venus?” I said.
Jane worked her computer. “Not much,” she said. “A career loser. Nothing I see that ties him to DeMarko, Walt, or the FBI.”
“Can you get his present address?” I said.
Jane looked at me. “Don’t go there, Jack,” she said. “Walt is my friend, too, but violating the law won’t help him.”
“Who said anything about violating the law?” I said.
“Go home. Work out a bit. Take a shower, and wait for me to show up and get naked,” Jane said.
“You’re no fun when you’re good,” I said.
“I’m a lot of fun when I’m bad, and I’ll be bad later,” Jane said.
* * *
“How did Walt do?” I asked, as the driver navigated us back to the beach.
“If it wasn’t for the unexplained money, he’d get a complete walk,” Kagan said.
I handed Carly the file I got from Venus. She scanned it quickly and passed it to Kagan.
“The reports from the FBI and I.A. seem to have omitted a few details about Mr. Smith,” she said.
“If you mean how a little twerp like Smith became an FBI informant, I agree,” I said.
Kagan looked at me. “That would be nice to know,” he said.
“It would, wouldn’t it?” I said.
After we dropped Kagan off, we called it a day, and the limo took me back to the beach.
I changed and did a little bag work to kill time. By the time the sun set, I was on my third cup of coffee.
I was thinking about how nice a cigarette would taste when Paul Lawrence called from Washington.
“This is not from me and I never called you,” Paul said.
I looked down the beach and the approaching headlights.
“I’m not even here on my phone listening,” I said.
“I dug as far down as it goes, Jack,” Paul said. “We—and by ‘we’ I mean the FBI—usually keep meticulous records on informants and snitches, but not on this guy. Not on Ethan Jaden Smith.”
I let that settle in for a few seconds.
“Jack?”
“I’m listening,” I said.
“If there are detailed records on this Smith, I can’t find them,” Paul said. “It’s not like a regional office to keep secrets, but on this one, they are.”
“Who is the A.I.C. in the regional office?” I said.
“Don’t do what I think you’re going to do,” Paul said.
“The names are listed online, Paul. How hard would it be for me to make a few clicks of my own?” I said.
The approaching headlights grew closer.
“Thomas Underwood,” Paul said.
“Thanks Paul, you saved my fingers from undue clicking,” I said.
“Jack, whenever you don’t do what you’re going to do, give me a heads up,” Paul said.
“Goodnight, Paul,” I said.
Jane’s cruiser parked next to my clunker and her blonde head popped out. She looked at me and smiled.
“I need a shower,” she said as she walked to me. “And that can go two ways. In the tiny, mold-infested shower inside that dump of yours, or are you up for another round of skinny dipping?”
“Skinny dipping still isn’t legal on the beach,” I said.
As she unbuttoned her shirt, Jane said, “I’ll write myself a ticket.”
Chapter Fifteen
After Jane left for work, I took my chair with a mug of coffee and called Carly on my cell phone.
“Are you on your way in?” I said.
“As soon as I have breakfast,” Carly said.
“Skip it and we’ll have breakfast at the diner,” I said. “We have a lot to talk about. And call Judge Brooks and request a pow wow with him for today.”
“You’ve been busy, haven’t you?” Carly said.
“See you in a bit,” I said.
“Should I pick up Kagan?”
“Good idea,” I said. “He’ll want to hear this.”
* * *
“So, the FBI and I.A. detectives have skimped on the information concerning this Smith character,” Kagan said. “And you have that from a reliable source?”
“Yes,” I said.
“We need to know more about Smith as part of Captain Grimes’s defense,” Kagan said.
“What did Brooks say when you called him?” I said.
“Fifteen minutes at eleven,” Carly said.
* * *
Brooks received us in his office at the courthouse.
“What is it this time, councilor?” the judge said, as we stood before his desk.
“Your honor, the lack of information on the C.I. is making it very difficult for us to form a line of questioning,” Carly said.
“I thought we covered this already,” Brooks said.
“Yes, your honor, but the information presented by the FBI and I.A.D. is remedial, at best,” Carly said.
She opened her briefcase and gave Brooks the files.
“No background information on Smith from either the FBI or I.A.,” Carly said. “No reports on how contact was made between Smith and the FBI, how often they met, the C.I.’s sources, what he was paid for his information. Nothing, your honor. How can we prepare a line of questioning without the full disclosure?”
Brooks scanned the documents and then looked at Carly. “My conference room at two o’clock this afternoon,” he said.
* * *
We had lunch at my house so Kagan could rehearse Walt some more.
“Jack, I really need some clothes and personal items from my house,” Walt said. “Elizabeth, too.”
“Make a list,” I said. “Liz and I will take a ride over when we get back from the courthouse.”
“The FBI and police usually pay for information,” Kagan said. “They keep meticulous records of their meetings and payouts. My feeling is they have something damaging to their case they are hiding.”
“Damaging how?” Carly said.
“What if they moved too quickly on the warrant? Or this Smith character isn’t as reliable as they’ve made him out to be?” Kagan said. “Their case could be dismissed before it even reaches a grand jury.”
Carly looked at Kagan.
“It won’t cost anything to argue the fact,” Kagan said.
“No. No, it wouldn’t,” Carly said.
* * *
Besides Napier, Lieutenant Stanly Phelps of the I.A.D. and Thomas Underwood of the FBI were present in Judge Brooks’s conference room for the two o’clock meeting.
“Your honor, I formally protest this meeting,” Underwood said.
“Noted. Now shut up,” Brooks said. “I have read the discovery from the People to the defense, and I have to agree with the defense that it sorely lacks pertinent information necessary to form a line of questioning.”
“Your honor…” Napier said.
“Be quiet, Mr. Napier, or I’ll have you removed,” Brooks said. “Now, I wasn’t appointed by the president because I’m deaf, dumb and blind. Mr. Underwood, does the FBI generally deal with informants without keepi
ng records of meetings and transactions?”
“No, your honor,” Underwood said.
“Then, where are they?” Brooks said. “Lieutenant Phelps, I can say the same for you. You provided reports but no documentation to back up these reports. Do you have something to hide from the defense?”
“No, your honor,” Phelps said.
“Lieutenant Phelps, Mr. Underwood, I want all documentation on my desk by nine tomorrow,” Brooks said. “Disappoint me at your own peril, gentlemen.”
* * *
In front of the courthouse, Carly and Napier squared off.
“It doesn’t matter if you discredit my C.I. in court or not,” Napier said. “You still have no way of explaining the six hundred large, and that will hang your captain by his thumbs.”
“Are you sure about that?” Carly said. “Are you positive?”
Underwood and Phelps waited at the bottom of the courthouse steps and I wandered down to them.
Phelps looked at me. He was of average height, a bit thick around the middle, and wore a suit several years out of style. “I’m thinking I know you,” he said.
Walking down the stairs, Napier said, “That’s John Bekker, Stan. He used to be Captain Grimes’s partner back in the day.”
“I was wondering where you fit in,” Phelps said.
“Back in the day, if I did first-class-shit police work like you’re doing, I wouldn’t have made dog catcher,” I said.
“Sing your bullshit all you want, Bekker, Grimes is going away for life,” Phelps said. “And maybe we’ll take a look at you, just for fun.”
“I wouldn’t push Bekker too far, you little runt,” Carly said. “He squashes bugs like you before breakfast.”
I turned and walked toward the limo.
“Yeah, well, he’ll be Grimes’s cellmate before this is over,” Phelps said. “I remember you now and that messed up kid of yours.”
I spun around, quick-stepped back to Phelps and was about to grab him by the jacket when Carly jumped between us.
“Phelps, you idiot,” she said. “If Jack gets mad enough, even I can’t stop him. Now give it a rest and back off.”
I glared at Phelps. “Mention my daughter again and you will never mention anything again. Ever.”
“Is that a threat?” Phelps said.
“No. A promise.”
I turned and walked to the limo.
* * *
Kagan had his pants rolled up and his bare feet in the water. Harry stood behind him and talked to his office on his cell phone.
I had switched into swim trunks and stood next to Kagan.
“What do you think they’re hiding?” Kagan said.
“Whatever it is has to be damning to their case against Walt,” I said.
I waded into the water. The waves were low, the sun was high, and the water was warm. I dunked under and then stood in waist- deep water.
Behind Kagan, Carly appeared wearing one of Regan’s bathing suits. It was a smudge too tight, but wearable.
For a forty-year-old woman who had a baby less than a year ago, she was in terrific shape.
“Campbell should be here with Settina in a few minutes,” she said. “How is the water?”
“Warm,” I said.
Carly gave me her Doubting Thomas face and dipped in a toe.
Harry put his cell phone away and dipped his bare feet into the water beside Kagan. “Judge Brooks wants to see us at eleven tomorrow morning,” he said.
“Good,” Kagan said. “We’ll straighten a few things out.”
Carly waded in a bit and then dove under. She came up opposite me and floated on her back.
“We need to shoot our load on a mistrial,” she said. “They will re-file of course, but that buys us three months to work with.”
In the background, the limo arrived and Campbell exited with Settina in her arms. She walked to the water and looked at us.
“How cozy,” she said.
“Jealous?” Carly said.
“Of a man? Hardly,” Campbell said.
“Water’s warm,” I said. “Put on a suit and take a dip.”
Campbell stretched out her arms to me. “Hold this,” she said.
I took Settina, and Campbell turned and marched back to the limo.
Carly grinned at me. “How long has it been since you’ve done that?” she said.
“Even if we get a mistrial and buy a few months, unless we can explain the six hundred thousand, the final outcome will not be good,” Kagan said.
Carly stood up. “That’s our ultimate goal, to find out where that money came from,” she said.
“And how do we do that?” Kagan said.
Carly looked at me. “Bekker?”
“Someone has gone to a great deal of trouble to set Walt up,” I said. “That same someone has suckered the FBI and Internal Affairs into believing it was Walt.”
“Sure, but who is that someone and why?” Kagan said.
Settina peed through her diaper onto my chest and stomach.
“Give her to me,” Carly said.
I passed off the baby, and dunked under and then stood up. “Do you need me tomorrow morning when you see Brooks?” I said.
“We can always fill you in,” Carly said. “Why?”
“I have something to do,” I said. “But right now, I promised Walt that I’d get him some clothes.”
“We still have a lot to talk about,” Kagan said.
“Fill me in tomorrow,” I said and headed back to the trailer.
Chapter Sixteen
While Elizabeth packed two suitcases for her and Walt, Regan and I sat in chairs in the backyard.
“This is so wrong what’s happening to Uncle Walt,” Regan said. “Last night I heard a noise in the backyard. I went to go see and it was Aunt Elizabeth crying to herself.”
“This is rough on all of us, honey,” I said. “And everybody is doing all that we can to help Walt.”
“I know,” Regan said. “It’s just so unfair.”
“A lot of things are unfair, honey,” I said.
Regan looked at me and nodded.
“Let’s see if Elizabeth is ready,” I said.
* * *
Walt took a sip of coffee, set the cup on the patio table and said, “I’m going stir crazy, Jack, sitting around all day doing nothing like this.”
“I’ll see what I can do tomorrow,” I said.
“This creep Smith was busted by Jane’s department, so what’s his beef with me?” Walt said.
“We don’t know that he has one,” I said.
“Well, he didn’t pick me out of a hat like some damn rabbit,” Walt said.
“Once we get a mistrial, we’ll have more time to figure this out,” I said. “Right now, there is someplace I have to be.”
“Do me a favor and pick up some new video games,” Walt said. “Your kid whips my ass every time. Maybe a new game will give me a shot.”
“I’ll see what I can do about that, too,” I said.
* * *
Venus lived in a nice townhouse on a quiet, tree-lined street in the suburbs. She answered the door when I rang the bell, and her face registered her surprise.
“Bekker?” she said.
“Got a minute for me?” I said.
“Come in,” Venus said.
She led me to the kitchen, passing the living room on the way. Two of her four sons still lived at home. One was thirteen, the other eleven. They were doing homework at the coffee table.
“Boys, I have to speak with Detective Bekker for a few minutes,” she said. “If I even hear a video game, I’ll put the both of you in the microwave on high. Am I clear?”
In the kitchen, Venus filled two large mugs with coffee and gave me one.
“Let’s go outside,” she said.
Each townhouse had a walled-in backyard and a balcony on the second floor bedroom. We sat at the patio table where Venus kept her cigarettes and an ashtray. She lit one and said, “So, why the visit?”
“I need your help,” I said.
“Little Miss Blondie should be scratching that itch,” Venus said.
“It’s about Walt,” I said.
Venus blew a smoke ring. “No kidding,” she said and passed me the cigarette.
I took a hit and passed it back.
“What I’m asking for is a matter of public record, but would take me a month to find on my own,” I said.
“And what are you looking for?” Venus said.
“Cases that Walt was personally involved in where the suspect did time in Coleman in Florida,” I said. “Say the last ten years.”
Venus sighed.
“I know,” I said. “It’s a long shot, but this Smith character may have overlapped with someone in Coleman. It’s worth a shot.”
“Stop by around noon,” Venus said. “Take me to lunch. Someplace expensive.”
* * *
Regan tossed a log into the trashcan and red embers rose up and blew away on the ocean breeze.
She took a chair between me and Oz.
Oz sipped coffee.
So did I.
Regan drank soda from a can.
“The buyer for the trailer called today,” Oz said. “His offer is up to thirty-five-thousand for the pair. What should I tell him?”
“Tell him forty and settle for thirty-seven,” I said.
“Oz told me about the condos,” Regan said. “Do you think it’s possible we might get one?”
“Between what we get for the trailers and the buyout from the developer, it’s very possible,” I said.
“How’s that grill going?” Oz said.
I got up to check. It was ready. I tossed on some burgers and steak tips and warmed up some baked potatoes.
“Make sure Oz’s is well done,” Regan said.
“Girl, you no fun at all,” Oz said.
“If we get the condo, we won’t have the beach to ourselves, but at least we’ll still be able to do this as a family,” Regan said.
I glanced at Oz. He had become so much a part of us that it was hard to imagine life without him.
